


World Spins Madly On

by chchchchcherrybomb, vinegarandglitter



Series: In the In-Between [6]
Category: Dear Evan Hansen - Pasek & Paul/Levenson
Genre: Alternate Realities, Alternate Universe, Anal Sex, Angst, Angst and Hurt/Comfort, Angst with a Happy Ending, Appendicitis, Bookstore Owner Connor, CHOO CHOO ANGST TRAIN, Comas - Freeform, Explicit Sexual Content, F/F, F/M, Family Drama, Hurt/Comfort, Implied/Referenced Sexual Assault, Implied/Referenced Suicide, Lawyer Evan, Light Dom/sub, M/M, Medical Experimentation, Medical Procedures, Oral Sex, Other, Self-Harm, Soup, Suicide Attempt, Taking in a busker who may or may not be a timeless being, Temporary Character Death, Terrible Coping Mechanisms, The Worst AU, Time Travel, just so much angst, life support
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2019-11-23
Updated: 2020-09-28
Packaged: 2021-02-26 16:20:48
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 176
Words: 489,240
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/21531157
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/chchchchcherrybomb/pseuds/chchchchcherrybomb, https://archiveofourown.org/users/vinegarandglitter/pseuds/vinegarandglitter
Summary: A routine operation goes mysteriously wrong. In another reality, Evan’s dead, and Connor’s stuck. In this reality, Connor’s in a coma, and Evan might not survive it.ITIB-Verse, post “It’s Always Been You”. An alternate take on “One Dream Away From The Ones Above.”
Relationships: Connor Murphy & Larry Murphy (Dear Evan Hansen), Connor Murphy & Zoe Murphy, Cynthia Murphy/Larry Murphy, Evan Hansen & Connor Murphy, Evan Hansen & Connor Murphy & Zoe Murphy, Evan Hansen & Heidi Hansen, Evan Hansen & Larry Murphy (Dear Evan Hansen), Evan Hansen & Sabrina Patel, Evan Hansen & Zoe Murphy, Evan Hansen/Connor Murphy, Heidi Hansen & Connor Murphy, Heidi Hansen & Cynthia Murphy, Zoe Murphy/Original Female Character(s)
Series: In the In-Between [6]
Series URL: https://archiveofourown.org/series/1327037
Comments: 615
Kudos: 215





	1. PROLOGUE

**Author's Note:**

  * Inspired by [One Dream Away From The Ones Above](https://archiveofourown.org/works/19341601) by [chchchchcherrybomb](https://archiveofourown.org/users/chchchchcherrybomb/pseuds/chchchchcherrybomb), [vinegarandglitter](https://archiveofourown.org/users/vinegarandglitter/pseuds/vinegarandglitter). 



> This is The Worst AU. Seriously, that's what we're calling it.

Connor is on the roof of Evan’s apartment building.

Oh god.

Oh no oh no no no no no -

“You shouldn’t be here,” says Evan, looking tired and worn and hopeless. “You can’t be here. You’re not… you’re not really here.”

Connor reaches out to grab Evan’s arm, acting entirely on instinct. He has to stop this. He has to stop this now.

His hand goes right through Evan’s arm.

Evan watches, his expression never changing. He laughs a little, and it echoes out in the night. “See? I was right. You’re just a figment of my imagination.”

Connor feels cold, cold all the way through him. “No,” Connor says urgently. “No, I’m not, I… I’m real, I’m here, I’m not going to let you jump.” He reaches out to grab Evan’s arm again, but once again his hand goes through.

He tries again.

And again.

And again.

He can’t… he can’t touch him. He can’t touch Evan.

He can’t reach him.

He can’t stop him.

Oh god oh god oh god no no no no no -

“Please,” Connor begs, positioning himself between Evan and the edge of the roof. “Please don’t do this, Evan, I can’t… I can’t let you do this.” He blinks away the tears the best he can. “I  _ love _ you.”

Evan just looks at him with those same dull, hopeless eyes. “You don’t love me.”

Fuck. Fuck, that hurts, that stings, that cuts right through him. Connor shakes his head. “But I do. I do, _ fuck, _ Evan, I love you more than anything, please don’t do this-”

Evan is still staring, an expression on his face that would be curiosity if it wasn’t so fucking… dull. Blank.  _ Dead. _ “I don’t even know you.”

Connor reaches out again, and he wants to scream in frustration as his hand goes through. Evan watches his hand go through again, then looks back at Connor’s face, the expression never changing.

He just looks… done. Like he’s not even here. Like there’s a pane of glass separating him from the rest of the world.

From Connor.

The coldness spreads through him, making him shiver, and Connor realizes that he can’t stop him. He can’t physically stop Evan from jumping. All he has are his words, and they might not be enough this time.

“You  _ do _ know me,” Connor insists, desperate to make him understand. “You… we went to high school together. You wrote a letter and it… it meant something to me, it made me feel like I wasn’t alone, like I wasn’t the only one who felt like this, and I never forgot, not really… I just… tried not to think about it for years and years and years and then we met again. We met again and it changed everything. It changed my life, Evan -  _ you _ changed my life and I am so  _ fucking in love with you  _ and I can’t let you jump.”

“You keep saying that,” Evan says, his voice weary. “But you can’t stop me. You… you’re in my mind, you’re in my imagination, you can’t… you’re not real, it’s so obvious that you’re not real, and if you’re not real that means that I’ve finally lost it, like I always knew I would. I’ve lost touch with reality, I’ve… I’ve always known it would end like this. It was always going to end like this, it was always going to be like this. I am  _ always _ going to be like this.”

“You’re not,” Connor pleads, taking a step closer to Evan. “You’re not always going to be like this, it is going to get better. I  _ swear _ that it is going to get better, you just have to trust me, you have to trust me that it’s going to get better, it’s going to get better and I won’t… you’re not alone, Evan, you’re not alone and  _ I won’t let you be alone, _ I won’t, I won’t, I can’t let you-”

The wind rages on around them.

Evan straightens his shoulders.

He walks right through Connor and off the edge of the building.

Connor doesn’t hesitate.

He follows Evan, stepping off the building after him.

As he falls, Connor stretches out his hand, desperate to reach Evan, despite failing so many times before. If he could just touch him, if he could just fucking  _ touch _ him, maybe it would all end differently.

The lights of the city are a blur and the wind feels like a thousand tiny knives as they both keep falling, falling, falling…


	2. ONE

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> “It’s not real, none of this is fucking real, I’m not supposed to fucking be here.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Okay folks, buckle up. This is an alternate version of "One Dream Away From The Ones Above" where things go Horribly Wrong. Prepare yourselves.

Connor wakes up to the sound of snoring and someone’s arms around his waist. The sun’s shining right in his face, and he turns to see Margot spooning him.

Eddie’s not wearing any pants.

The frame of Connor’s diploma is broken and covered with remnants of white powder.

Margot is snoring, mouth wide open. 

It’s bright. Glaringly so. 

Everything is wrong. 

He…

Evan jumped off the roof. 

Evan jumped off the roof and Connor was _there_ and didn’t stop him. 

Couldn’t stop him. 

Even though he tried so hard. He tried so hard he followed Evan down, reaching out to catch him even though it was impossible, everything was impossible and…

Connor looks around and feels a growing sense of dread in his chest. 

Because this…

This feels real. 

It feels real and it’s… 

He was just…

He was in the hospital. Connor remembers that now. He remembers pain and fever and the ambulance and Evan’s terrified face and Zoe in her work blazer sitting at his bedside with Evan as they told him they were waiting for surgery. 

He was getting his appendix out. 

Wasn’t he?

_“I want to stay, Evan, I want to stay with you, I can’t… I don’t… please stay, please let me stay.”_

Evan looked so scared. So fucking scared. 

This isn’t… 

Connor reaches for his phone and, with shaking hands, looks for Evan’s number. 

It’s not there. 

Fuck. 

Fuck. 

Fuck.

He has to know, he has to check, maybe it’s different this time, maybe he’s not… maybe it’s not…

_Just heard the news about_ **_Evan Hansen,_** _so sad. RIP._

 _I didn’t really know_ **_Evan Hansen,_** _but we went to high school together and I remember he was nice. RIP._

 _RIP,_ **_Evan Hansen._ **

_So sorry to hear about_ **_Evan Hansen._** _So sad._

No. No no no no no no no no-

“Connor, what the fuck?” 

He’s barely aware of Margot sitting up next to him, looking completely freaked out, because he can’t fucking breathe, he can’t fucking cope with this, this isn’t real this isn’t real this can’t be real this can’t be fucking real he’s not supposed to be here he’s not supposed to-

“You need to breathe, dude, fuck.”

Connor wants to laugh at that, but his lungs aren’t working, his chest doesn’t feel right, this is wrong this is wrong this is wrong, he can’t breathe if Evan’s not breathing anymore because they die together that’s how it’s supposed to go that’s how it works if Evan dies Connor dies too and this is wrong this is wrong this is wrong fuck fuck fuck

“Shit, fuck, what the fuck do we do?”

“Go get Andi, now.”

This isn’t real. It can’t be real because if it’s real then it was all a dream, two and a half fucking years of a dream, a dream where he bought a bookstore and got a cat and loved Evan Hansen fiercely, even before he knew that love was what it was, and now he’s… 

“Am I 27? Am I fucking 27?” he blurts out, and Margot looks at him, face pale and scared. 

“Yeah, dude. It was your birthday yesterday.”

“Fuck!”

Andi comes into the room, Zoe close behind her. Both of them look confused and Zoe looks… pissed. 

“What the fuck are you on Connor?” Zoe asks irritably, sitting on the edge of the bed. 

“This isn’t real,” he tells her, and watches as her eyes widen. He shoves his phone at her with Evan’s Facebook profile. “Tell me this isn’t fucking real, Zo.”

Zoe looks at the screen, and it takes a moment for her to take in what she’s seeing. She goes even paler and looks at Connor with an expression of utter confusion. “Who’s Evan Hansen?”

“We went to high school together,” he tries to explain, because if it’s two years ago, if he’s fucking 27 again then that’s all Zoe would know. “He used to date Sabrina Patel. We were… we were…”

He can’t say it.

He…

He can’t fucking say it.

They were friends? Best friends? Boyfriends? 

They were together. 

Evan is everything, he’s the love of his fucking life, his soulmate if those even exist and Connor is stuck in a universe where Evan is dead.

Where Evan killed himself.

Where Connor didn’t save him.

Fuck.

Fuck.

Fuck.

“Sabrina just got engaged,” says Zoe, her voice coming from very far away. “She’ll… fuck, this is awful, oh my god.”

“It’s not real,” Connor says insistently. “It’s not real, none of this is fucking real, I’m not supposed to fucking be here.”

Zoe looks at him, her expression alarmed. “Connor-”

Fuck this. 

Fuck all of this. 

He’s getting out.

He doesn’t know how but he’s getting out of this fucking universe.

Maybe if he jumps, it’ll all reset. 

He’ll be back where he’s supposed to be. 

With that he mind, he walks toward the window. Opens it wide. Starts to climb out.

And is promptly pulled away sharply, thrown to the floor, and there are arms holding him down and he’s thrashing against them and he’s screaming at the top of his lungs because this isn’t real this isn’t fucking real he needs to get back to where he belongs he needs to get the fuck back back to Evan back to his life his real life because this can’t be real and even if he is he doesn’t fucking want it, not without Evan.

Not without Evan.

Connor thrashes and screams and struggles and tries to get free but Margot and Eddie are practically sitting on him and Zoe’s on the phone and they’re gonna throw him in the fucking psych ward he knows he knows he knows but this isn’t real this isn’t real this isn’t real and he needs to go he needs to go home he needs to go home-

“Connor,” says Andi, her voice soft and concerned. “You are home. This is real, I swear it is. It’s going to be okay..”

“It’s not, it’s fucking not okay, it’s not, you don’t-”

“This is real,” says Zoe, much less soft than Andi. “Connor, this is real. I’m sorry about your friend, I really am, but-”

“Fuck off,” he snaps, still struggling to get away. “I need to get back to him, I need to get back to my own fucking reality because this one isn’t _fucking_ real.” 

It feels like forever and no time at all passes before the room is full of faces he doesn’t recognize, there are strange voices speaking calmly and firmly, and Connor’s heart is still racing and he’s still screaming on the inside and maybe on the outside too, he doesn’t know, and then there’s the sensation of something sharp and everything is heavy. 

As the world slowly fades out of focus, Connor hopes like hell that when he opens his eyes next, he’ll be back where he belongs.

He has to be.

He just has to. 

* * *

“I love you,” Connor slurred, his voice urgent, like he was trying to communicate something important. “I’m not… I want to stay, Evan, I want to stay with you, I can’t… I don’t… please stay, please let me stay.”

What the fuck what the fuck?

What was Connor saying, why was he saying this?

Evan felt like his heart was in his throat, like he was choking on it, but he kept it together as best as he could, holding Connor’s hand tighter, trying to give him a reassuring smile, trying to convince himself it was just the fever, it was just the morphine… and failing. He squeezed Connor’s hand tighter.

“No one is going anywhere. We’re okay,” Evan said gently. “It’s going to be okay, you’re just…” He had to take a second to collect himself, to breathe. “You’re sick but you’re going to feel a lot better soon.”

Connor whimpered softly and Zoe and Evan exchanged a worried look, but then Connor was out again, his brow smoothing out, his eyes closed again.

“What the fuck was that about?” Zoe said, her voice hard.

“I don’t know,” Evan said, and he was scared he was fucking scared. “I don’t know what’s going on.” He cleared his throat. “I -”

Suddenly the heart monitor Connor was hooked up to started to beep frantically. Suddenly there was a flurry of noise, of sound and light and Evan felt like his heart had leapt into his throat. Evan felt sick, he felt terrified, but he couldn’t let go of Connor’s hand. He had to be there. “I love you,” He said to Connor as the monitors beeping got more and more frantic. “I love you don’t leave, don’t -”

Zoe had rushed from his side, shouting down the hall that they needed help.

Evan refused to let go of Connor’s hand. He didn’t know what to do, he didn’t know, he just held Connor’s hand kept saying, “I love you, I love you, I love you I love you -”

“Sir, we need you to move,” A doctor said, physically moving Evan away, pulling them apart. Evan felt his breathing catch, he felt his heart hammering too hard, he felt sick he felt sick he felt sick. 

“His pressure is dropping.” 

Evan clung to the wall, watching in horror as the doctors watched the monitors and injected things into Connor and took an ultrasound wand to his stomach they kept talking and talking, talking over each other, talking fast, indecipherable, strange, and someone in baby blue scrubs looked at Zoe and Evan and said that Connor’s appendix had burst and they were taking him to surgery immediately. And then in a flash, they rushed Connor out of the room, and Evan could feel Zoe shaking beside him. 

“Appendixes burst all the time,” She said, her voice unsteady. 

Evan nodded. He took a few gulping breaths. He didn’t know which one of them she was trying to reassure. “It’s a common procedure,” Evan said. 

“It is.”

“Baby doctors do this. Alex told me that. Her old roommate did an appendectomy on his first day as a surgical resident… baby doctors do this.”

“They do.”

Evan wrapped his arm around Zoe and she hugged him tightly. They would be okay. They would be okay. Connor would be okay and Evan just. He had to take care of Zoe. Connor would want him to take care of Zoe. He needed to be the strong one right now. 

Alex appeared in Connor’s room. “They take him up?” She asked, smiling. “I was thinking I might need to throw some favors around to get it moving…” She trailed off. “Everything okay?”

“Yeah uh,” Evan said, barely able to find his voice. “His appendix burst. They just rushed him to surgery?” 

“Shit,” Alex said, frowning. “It happens though. Sucked, but it happens. He’ll be alright. Probably just means an open procedure and some hardcore antibiotics. It’s gonna be okay.”

“Yeah,” Zoe said distantly. She looked pale and Evan could feel her shaking in his arms. “I… I don’t like being here. I...I don’t like hospitals.” She looked extremely pale. 

“Let’s go for a walk?” Evan said, letting her out of the hug but keeping an arm protectively around her shoulders. “How long is the surgery, normally, Alex?”

“Hour? Hour and a half maybe? Not long.”

“Okay,” Zoe said, nodding to herself. 

“Zoe,” Evan said, trying to keep his voice calm. “Let’s go for a walk yeah?”

She nodded to herself, her face still pale. She looked like she might pass out and Evan suddenly felt this intense feeling of protectiveness for her. He wrapped his arm around Zoe more tightly and led her out of the hospital room. Alex said she’d keep them updated if anything changed. “It’s not a big deal, I swear,” Alex said. “The appendix is just a little punk. He’ll be home in no time.”

“Okay,” Zoe said, inhaling audibly. 

“Okay,” Evan said, smiling gratefully at Alex. “We’ll go get some air. Thanks.” 

He and Zoe exited the building and Zoe sunk down onto a bench in the small courtyard outside immediately, her head in her hands. He knew she was crying. Evan sat beside her, resting a hand on her shoulder, giving it a gentle squeeze. She let out a quiet sob, and Evan just rubbed her back. 

“He’s gonna be fine,” Evan said, trying to keep his voice firm and reassuring. “I know this is fucking scary but… He’s going to be fine.”

“Sorry,” She said, wiping her eyes. “Sorry. I know. I’m being… I’m just…” She swallowed audibly. Wiped her eyes. “You know what happened in high school?”

Evan nodded. Not details, but the basics. “Connor cut his wrists -”

Zoe nodded and Evan stopped talking. Let her speak. “They lost him? In the ambulance, for a minute. They had to do… CPR and… Once we got to the hospital, he needed a transfusion and… He almost completed. He almost actually died.” Zoe sucked in a shuddering breath. “I just had to sit there, by myself, waiting. Waiting for updates, for our parents… I had to call them.” She shook her head, her eyes glittering with tears. “I had to call them and tell them he’s tried to…” She wiped her face. “I was just. Covered in blood and waiting all alone to hear what happened.” She cleared her throat. “Fuck, sorry.”

“That sounds so scary,” Evan said, his voice almost a whisper. 

“I wasn’t even… I was sixteen.”

“I know.”

“I hated it. I… I hated it so much.”

“I’m so sorry,” Evan said. “I’m so sorry that happened.”

“He told me... He said ‘it wasn’t supposed to be you,’ right before he passed out?” Zoe said. “I don’t think he wanted me to be the one to find him.”

Evan nodded. 

Zoe sucked in a breath. “Being alone with all of that… was hard. Really hard. So. Just. I’m glad you’re here?”

Evan nodded. “Of course I’m here.”

“It’s… it’s just nice to know someone else loves him too.”

Evan tried to smile. He pulled Zoe into a hug. “It’ll be fine. It’ll be fine, right?”

“Yeah. It’ll be fine.”

It had to be fine. 

It had to be. 

Connor had to be fine.

Connor wasn’t making sense and he was speaking Hebrew and scaring the fuck out of Evan, but it had to be fine. It had to be fine. He had to be fine. He had to be or else Evan… he wouldn’t. He couldn’t. 

It would be fine. 

They broke apart. Zoe called her mom, and Evan broke down and smoked a cigarette. He was trying to quit. He was trying to quit smoking but today wasn’t… Today wasn’t the day to beat himself up about it. His mom had texted to say she was heading over to Cynthia’s to keep her company. He smiled at that. His mom was just… so good. She was so calm, so steady, so prepared to handle this. 

Evan wanted to be more like her. 

Evan bought himself and Zoe each coffee from a cart in the waiting room as the hour drew to a close. They waited inside together, half watching a weather report on television in the waiting area, drinking their coffee. 

One hour turned into two. 

Then two and a half. 

Something was wrong. 

Something was definitely wrong. 

“Didn’t Alex say an hour?” Zoe said tensely, gripping her coffee cup tighter in her hands. 

“Yeah,” Evan said. “She said an hour.” He got up. Started to pace. Picked at his cuticles. “I… this isn’t right. Something isn’t right.”

Zoe strode to the nurse’s station, asking them to please get someone to give her an update. Then she walked back and sat beside Evan, almost violently grabbing his hand. “Someone is coming to update us.”

“Okay,” Evan said. The dread started to properly set in, a strange swooping in his stomach. He let Zoe squeeze his hand, hard, tight, painful. Connor had to be alright. He had to be or… 

He had to be alright or Evan wouldn’t be. 

Before long, Alex appeared in the waiting room. “Hi,” She said softly. 

“Hi.”

“Dr. Altera is on his way.”

“Okay,” Zoe said. 

“So I’m just going to sit with you.”

Zoe’s hand was too tight and painful in Evan’s, her nails biting into his skin, but Evan had to keep it together for her. Zoe needed him to keep it together. 

Evan needed to keep it together. 

Dr. Altera finally arrived in the waiting room, and Evan and Zoe got to their feet. The doctor looked… weary. Tired. Evan’s free hand migrated to his mouth and he chewed at his cuticled, waiting for the man to speak. 

“There were complications,” Dr. Altera began. “So we only just closed. I’m sorry no one updated you sooner… I couldn’t spare anyone… Connor’s appendix burst and the infection spread pretty rapidly…”

And then his voice faded to a high pitched whine in Evan’s ears. Zoe’s grip got so much tighter, more painful. He heard words that didn’t make sense to him. 

“But,” Zoe said, her voice almost tearful. “He’ll recover.”

“Yes,” Dr. Altera said. “We cleared the infection. He should make a full recovery.”

Evan could finally breathe. 

“Thank you,” he said, relieved.


	3. TWO

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> “You kept talking about being in the wrong universe."

Connor desperately hoped that when he next opened his eyes, he’d see Evan. 

Evan, looking tired and stressed, but relieved because Connor’s out of surgery and everything’s fine and this whole parallel nightmare terrible dream situation is over. 

The Evan who knows him. 

The Evan who loves him. 

Evan, alive. 

Instead, he wakes up in a hospital room to see Zoe, sitting in a chair in the corner of the room, looking pale and drawn and pissed off. 

“What’s going on?” he asks Zoe, annoyed that his voice is coming out slurry and slow, like he’s been drugged. 

“You tell me,” Zoe replies, frowning and pursing her lips in a way that makes her look so much like their mom that it makes his heart hurt. 

Connor tries to move and finds that he’s strapped to the bed. 

Fuck. 

Fuck. 

Fuck. 

He struggles against the restraints for a moment, then gives up. 

“You tried to jump out of a fucking window,” says Zoe, her voice cracking on the last word. “They had to sedate you to get you to the hospital without hurting yourself or anyone else.” 

It’s then that he notices there’s a bruise on Zoe’s cheekbone, and his heart leaps to his throat and his eyes fill with tears when he realizes what must have happened. 

Fuck. 

Fuck. 

Fuck. 

Fuck. 

“I’m sorry,” he says, voice still thick and slow and slurred. “I didn’t mean to hurt you, I-”

“You kept talking about being in the wrong universe,” Zoe interrupts, her voice hard. “What the fuck are you talking about? What’s going  _ on, _ Connor?”

“I…”

He wants to tell her. 

He wants to tell her so, so badly. 

But his sister is sitting there with a bruise on her cheekbone because he hit her, he  _ hit _ her, and she’s scared and terrified and sitting waiting for him at the hospital, and this isn’t the Zoe who’s one of his best friends. 

This is a Zoe who’s a virtual stranger. 

She’d think he was crazy. 

She already thinks he’s crazy. 

“I don’t know,” he says, after a long pause. “I don’t know what’s going on, I’m… I’m really fucking confused.” 

Zoe’s frowning, her eyes dark and full of fear, but there’s something in her expression that’s shifted, just a little. 

Connor closes his eyes. “Tell me what’s real.”

There is a long, long silence. 

He keeps his eyes closed, hoping that when he opens them, he’ll be looking at a sister who knows him, really knows him, and a boyfriend who’s alive and well and not dead, not fucking  _ dead _ because Connor couldn’t stop him. 

“It’s February 27th,” Zoe says finally. “The day after your birthday.” There’s another pause, then she continues. “I… I talked to a friend of mine and found out what happened to… to Evan Hansen.”

“He jumped off a building,” Connor whispers, still refusing to open his eyes. 

Another pause. 

“That… that wasn’t on Facebook. All I know is that he… he killed himself, I don’t know how.”

“He jumped.”

Yet another silence. 

“I don’t know for sure-”

“He jumped,” Connor says, his voice finally coming out firmer. He opens his eyes to see Zoe looking at him, expression full of fear. “Off the roof of his apartment building. I know he did, I was…”

_ I was there, _ he thinks. 

_ I was there, and I saved him.  _

_ I was there, and I couldn’t save him.  _

“You knew him,” Zoe says after a moment. She looks… conflicted. “He was important to you.” She bites her lip. “Were you together?”

Yes. 

“It’s complicated,” he says. “And it doesn’t matter anyway if he’s…”

The word he doesn’t say hang in the air, hovering like a grenade moments before collision. 

Dead. 

Dead. 

Evan’s dead. 

He’s dead, and Connor let it happen, and now he’s…

Now he’s stuck. 

He’s twenty-seven, not twenty-nine. 

It’s February, not July. 

And he’s alone. 

He’s alone. 

Zoe doesn’t know him. Not really. They’re still stuck on either side of this great divide, still separated by years of trauma and arguments and disappointments and blame. 

She’s here because she feels like she should be. 

Because she’s a good person, and he’s her brother, and…

He’s crazy. 

She thinks he’s crazy. 

Maybe he is. Maybe he’s imagining all of this, or maybe what came before was imaginary. He doesn’t know how to tell, he doesn’t know what to do. 

All he knows is that right now, he’s… somewhere else. 

And it’s not disappearing, not jumping around like it did before. As far as he can tell, he’s…

Stuck. 

A doctor sticks her head around the corner of the room. She looks young, too young, but it could just be one of those faces. She’s twitchy and nervous and probably hasn’t had to deal with a patient who is literally tied to the bed for their own safety before, and he kind of wants to ask what hospital he’s at, see if he’s at Alex’s hospital, see if he can get Alex on the case. 

Dr. Dawson. He can ask for Dr. Dawson. 

He opens his mouth, then closes it again, because if he’s 27, then he hasn’t met Alex yet. Alex won’t know him, Alex won’t recognize him, Alex will be…

Alex will be dealing with the fact her roommate just jumped off the roof. 

Fuck. 

Alex and Mattie work weird hours, Connor knows. Weird enough that they could have been the ones to find Evan. 

What’s left of Evan. 

He blinks a few times, trying to get rid of the tears, because it’s not helpful, it’s not going to help. If he lets himself cry now, he’s going to fall apart completely, he’s going to fall apart because Evan’s dead, he’s dead he’s dead he’s dead-

“Sir, I need you to breathe.”

“Connor. Connor, hey. Come on.”

He’s gasping for air, he can’t get enough air into his lungs, he feels like his chest is collapsing in on itself. Maybe he’s dying is he dying he could be dying if Evan is dead then so is Connor that’s how it goes that’s how it works that’s how it goes Evan’s dead Evan’s dead Evan’s dead and Connor’s…

Everything fades out of focus once more. 


	4. THREE

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> “What do you mean he’s not awake?”

Connor still wasn’t awake. 

Dr. Altera said sometimes that happened. That he was stable and physically in good shape. He just needed to rest and recover. Sometimes bodies just knew better than medicine. “We won’t worry until we have to,” He’d said cheerfully before heading home for the night. 

Easy for Dr. Altera to say, Evan thought bitterly. 

But Connor still wasn’t awake. 

And Evan was due in court in two hours. 

“You should go,” Zoe said for the hundredth time. “Go at least shower. And change.”

“Are you saying I smell?” Evan joked weakly. He kept trying to keep their spirits up. Trying to remain positive. Connor was fine. It was a hard and complicated surgery but he was going to be fine.

“No, I’m saying you look like you slept in those clothes,” Zoe said, smiling a little. “And you grew a beard overnight.”

“Fine,” Evan said, rolling his eyes. “When is your mom getting here?”

“Her flight lands at nine,” Zoe said. “And really. I’m fine here. Go kick ass at work.”

“Alright,” Evan said, reluctantly. He leaned over and kissed Connor’s cheek. “I love you. Be safe. I love you.” He looked at Zoe. “Text me when he wakes up.”

“Okay,” Zoe said. “I will.”

“And tell him I love him.”

“I will,” Zoe said. “Go to work. Make money so you can spoil my brother when he wakes up from scaring the shit out of us.”

“Okay, fine,” Evan said, smiling a little. He kissed Connor’s cheek again and then headed out of the hospital. 

The day was a slog. He changed and showered fast at Connor’s apartment, shaving so fast he nicked himself twice, and stopping to fuss over Edgar who still seemed extremely distressed. Evan went to court and wearily dealt with his fishing waste case with Jonathan. Jonathan, who had some comments about Evan showing up only twenty nine minutes early rather than his usual forty. Jonathan who grinned wolfishly when Evan explained that he had been at the hospital all night with Connor who was sick and had emergency surgery. 

“This is why I hired you, Hansen. You’re all about the work.”

Evan nearly punched him. He didn’t want to be here but what could he do?

He called Zoe on the recess to check in. “How is he?” Evan asked. She hadn’t texted. Maybe Connor was still talking nonsense, scaring people. Maybe he was just really tired, but Evan wanted to hear his voice. “Is he still high? Can I talk to him?”

“He’s…” Zoe sounded like she might cry. “Evan he’s not awake.”

“What?” Evan said, his heart thumping in his chest too loudly. “What do you mean he’s not awake?”  
“He just… he hasn’t woken up,” Zoe said. “The doctors. They can’t explain it. They say he should be awake by now. They’ve been running all sorts of tests. He should be awake by now. He should be…” She cleared her throat. “Mom is here. She’s been barking at the doctors all day, she’s basically turned into our dad? He even said he might come… I don’t. I’m sorry I didn’t want to tell you while you were at work.”

“I don’t… I don’t understand why he’s not awake,” Evan said numbly. “Have you seen Alex?”

Zoe sighed. “She’s been by a couple of times. She’s… she doesn’t know either, Evan. They think it might just be a… weird reaction to the anesthesia? Nobody’s really sure. Or… they’ve seen his file, they’re saying it could be a mental health thing given his history but that doesn’t make any damn sense because I have a PhD in fucking psychology and that is just… not a thing. ”

“I’m on my way,” Evan said, heading toward the street to hail a cab. 

“Don’t,” Zoe said. “Look, medically, he’s fine. Just. Like. Sleeping. Stay at work. Okay? I’ll text you when I know more.”

“But I -”

“Don’t throw your job away because Connor’s being a sleepy shithead, yeah?” Zoe said, and she was trying to joke. “It’s probably just some dumb thing. It’s gonna be fine. Nobody but mom is even freaked out.”

Evan wanted to argue but… she had a point. He had to stay focused. He had to work, and when Connor woke up, he’d be annoyed if Evan had, like, lost his job because he was being such an anxious wreck. “Fine. I’ll come by as soon as I’m done here.”

“Okay.”

Evan hung up. He went back into the courthouse and totally nailed the Hernandez testimony. Jonathan looked extremely impressed and tried to get Evan to head back to the office to go over their closing for the next day. 

“With all due respect,” Evan said, “I’m going to look after my partner. I’ll see you in the morning.” Evan made his way back to the hospital. He still hadn’t heard from Zoe, and he kept praying that meant that it was good news, that meant everyone was just busy once Connor woke up and stopped scaring them… 

But when he got to the hospital and checked himself in as a visitor, he knew that wasn’t the case. 

Zoe looked like hell. She was still wearing her clothes from the night before. Beside her, Cynthia was holding Connor’s hand, her face pale. She looked like she had aged ten years since he’d last seen her. 

“Nothing yet?” Evan asked. 

Zoe shook her head. “They don’t… they’re running tests?” She laughed. “They’re checking to see if he’s diabetic? Like. Look at him. He definitely doesn’t have type II diabetes.”

“What the fuck.” Evan flinched. “Sorry Cynthia.”

“What the fuck is absolutely right,” Cynthia said, shaking her head. “I don’t… I just cannot believe they don’t know why this is happening.”

“They’re cross checking all of the meds he’s on,” Zoe added. “I guess sometimes that can mess things up?”

“Yeah,” Evan said hollowly. He walked to Connor’s side, pressed a kiss to the side of his head. Connor didn’t respond. He was out cold. Just… completely out. 

It wasn’t right. 

This wasn’t right. 

“Do they have any ideas?” Evan asked. 

Zoe shook her head. “I mean, they have a million ideas, but all of them are on par with Type II Diabetes.” 

Evan took Connor’s other hand. He had chipped black polish on his fingernails. Evan sank into a chair beside Connor, his heart pounding so hard in his chest. “Please,” He whispered. “Please I need you to wake up. I love you.”

Not too long after, Alex poked her head into the room. She wasn’t smiling. She wasn’t her usual sarcastic self. “Hey team.”

“Hi,” Zoe said. “Any news?”

Alex shook her head. “I’m so sorry. I wish I could give you something else… But I thought that I might just sit here with you all for a little bit.”

“Okay,” Cynthia said. “Thank you.”

So they sat. 

They just sat. Watching Connor’s chest rise and fall. Waiting and waiting for his eyes to open. 

They didn’t. 

* * *

The next time Connor wakes up, for a moment he’s sure he sees Evan in the seat next to his bed. He’s sure of it. 

But he blinks, and Evan’s gone. 

He shouldn’t have blinked. He shouldn’t have  _ fucking _ blinked. 

No one else is in the room. Zoe’s gone. 

Probably gone home, or to work, or… something, Connor doesn’t fucking know, but she’s done what she’s supposed to do, she’s gotten him to a hospital and made sure he’s not a danger to himself, that’s…

That’s all he could expect from her. 

From this version of her. 

It’s not her fault she’s not here. He’s never given her any indication she’s wanted. 

Fuck. 

Fuck. 

Fuck, he was such an asshole back then. 

Such a fucking asshole. 

He sits up the best he can, considering that he’s still strapped to the bed, which makes sense because they think he’s crazy. It takes a moment for him to notice, but there’s a call button or something in his hand. He presses it, and there’s a buzzing sound from somewhere, and soon a nurse arrives.

“You’re up,” says the nurse, looking bored. He looks at what Connor assumes is his chart, then nods. “Okay, so you’re scheduled for a psych evaluation. I’ll let them know you’re up.”

“Was there…” Connor clears his throat. “My sister was here?”

The nurse shrugs. “Haven’t seen anyone since my shift started, sorry man.”

“How long was I out?”

“They had to sedate you twice,” the nurse points out. “It’s nearly two am, I started at midnight. I guess they probably told your sister she needed to go home.”

“Right,” says Connor. He squares his shoulders. Tries to look like a sane human being. “Can I… can you untie me? I swear I won’t try to jump out the window or stab you or whatever.”

The nurse shakes his head. He actually looks kind of sorry. “No can do, not until the doctor’s seen you. But I’ll get someone in as soon as I can, okay?”

“Sure,” Connor says, leaning back against the pillows, watching as the nurse leaves the room. He lets out a shaky breath. 

He feels utterly defeated. 

Completely and totally wrecked. 

Alone. 

He dozes for a while, on and off, every now and then finding his eyes opening suddenly to look around because he’s sure he’s heard someone, he’s sure he’s heard someone saying his name. Sometimes it sounds like Zoe, sometimes his mom, sometimes it sounds like Evan. 

Most of the time it sounds like Evan. 

If he’s not completely crazy, if he’s in some kind of alternate reality, then what’s happening in his reality? In the reality he’s supposed to be in?

Is he dead?

Unconscious?

What’s going on?

What the  _ fuck _ is going on?

Finally, fucking finally the doctor shows up. It’s the same baby-faced, tired-looking doctor from earlier, who seems to have pasted on a polite smile and asks Connor a long list of questions that he tries his best to answer in a way that doesn’t make him seem like he’s completely fucking insane. 

No, he doesn’t have any intention of killing himself, he tells the doctor, even if he’s not sure if that’s entirely true. 

A part of him still thinks that it’s the only way he can get back to Evan. His Evan, the Evan who’s alive and loves him. 

But what if he kills himself here and dies in his reality, too? 

He won’t do that to Evan. 

He won’t leave Evan alone. 

He has to stay alive, he has to figure out how to get back. 

Connor remembers the last death anniversary, how scared Evan had been that they might end up in another reality, that they might end up apart. 

He remembers how he’d promised that he wouldn’t stop trying to get back to Evan. 

To his Evan. 

It’s not a promise he’s about to break. 

So if that means pretending he’s a normal functioning human being for a while so he can get out of hospital and figure out how to cross into another reality, then that’s what he’s going to do. 

After a long, long conversation, they take the restraints off the bed, and let Connor get up and go to the bathroom, which is just as well because he really, really fucking needs to pee. 

And then he’s being escorted to another part of the hospital, put in a wheelchair even though he’s perfectly capable of walking, and being assigned a bed in the psych ward and given some medication and…

He goes along with it. 

He plays along. 

This isn’t real, he’s absolutely sure of it. Deep in his bones, he knows he’s not supposed to be here, but right now…

Right now it’s what he’s got. 

The nurse watches him and makes sure he gets into bed and he’s exhausted, he’s so fucking tired, this whole thing is fucking exhausting and he needs to think, he needs to fucking think and fix this, he needs to fix this, he needs to get back. 

He needs to get  _ home. _

Maybe this time, when he wakes up, he’ll be home. 

* * *

Around ten o’clock a doctor arrived to tell them to go home. 

Zoe looked murderous. Cynthia looked utterly defeated. 

“He’s stable, just unconscious,” The doctor said. “You need to go home. Get some rest. Come back tomorrow. We’ll know more tomorrow.”

Nobody was willing to do that, it seemed. Evan told the doctor to fuck off unless he wanted a lawsuit on his hands. “I’m a lawyer,” he said stupidly, bull headed and stubborn. “How could you have fucked up something as simple as an appendectomy?”

Alex put her hand on Evan’s shoulder. “Thank you,” Alex said. “They’ll go home.” She looked at him hard. “You should all go home.”

And just like that, they all quit arguing.

Cynthia and Zoe got a cab back to Zoe’s apartment, because they wanted to be together, and Evan decided not to go home with Alex. “Sorry,” he said softly. “I just… someone should check on the cat?”

“Of course,” Alex said. “Do you… I can come stay with you? Mattie’s working overnight.”

He shook his head. “Thanks. I just… “

“I know this is scary, but it happens sometimes. It’ll be fine.”

Evan nodded, wearily. She was right. “Thanks. For today.”

Alex hugged Evan, suddenly and fiercely, before he got into a Lyft back to the bookstore. The Lyft driver was chatty and cheerful, asking Evan about his summer plans. Evan wanted to throw himself out of the car. 

But he didn’t. He went back to The Little Book Nook and let himself inside with his key. Disarmed and rearmed the alarm. Headed up the steps to the apartment. Someone had pinned a note to the door - Evan thought it was Leslie’s handwriting. 

_ “Tell Connor not to worry about the store, we’ve got it covered.”  _

Evan smiled slightly at that. 

Inside, he toed off his shoes and Edgar practically climbed up his body to settling on his shoulders. He usually only did that with Connor, but Evan figured that he was a decent substitute. He headed into Connor’s room, and Edgar jumped down onto the bed. Evan undressed, changed into some of Connor’s pajamas even though he had his own here. He just needed to feel close to his boyfriend that night. 

He just needed to feel like Connor would be alright. 

Evan had a drink with his meds before bed. Was it the healthiest thing? No. But he needed to calm the fuck down. 

Evan slept badly. He kept waking up, his heart pounding too hard in his chest, having these horrible dreams about Connor, awake and alone in a hospital. He hated it so much. 

Edgar climbed onto Evan’s chest and Evan pet him a few times. “He’s going to be okay,” he said gently to the cat. “He has to be okay.”

He couldn’t get back to sleep. 

He was scared to shut his eyes. 

So Evan had another drink. And when it didn’t make him sleepy, he went over some documents and emailed Jonathan a few times. Jonathan was also awake, which annoyed Evan a lot. 

He pet Edgar. Gave him a few too many cat treats because the poor thing just looked so lost and helpless. He couldn’t understand where Connor was. 

Evan didn’t think  _ he  _ understood where Connor was. 

Finally, at three o’clock, Evan couldn’t take it anymore. He was sick of himself pacing around this apartment. He went back to the hospital, lied to the woman at the front desk and said he and Connor were married so she’d let him inside. 

Connor was the same. Eyes closed, like he was asleep. Not moving or talking or looking up when Evan talked to him. Just. Totally quiet. 

Evan didn’t know what to do with himself. He climbed into the bed with Connor, careful of his tubes and wires, careful of his incision, and just lay there beside him. “I love you,” he said quietly. “So you have to wake up okay? I need you to wake up. Please.” 

Connor’s heart kept beating steadily. 

He didn’t open his eyes. 

Evan stayed there, holding him, until his arms and legs started to go numb. Until the sun outside rose. 

Until a nurse realized he was not, in fact, Connor Murphy’s next of kin. Just his overly anxious boyfriend. 

“Really, sir, you need to go home and sleep.”

“But… it’s been twenty four hours and he hasn’t woken up,” Evan said desperately. “I need to be here when he wakes up. I have to be here.”

“Sir, really, you need to go home. You can’t be here.”

Evan left. 

He went to Connor’s apartment. Showered and changed into a suit. He’d go to court today. If he went today and they won, Jonathan would have no choice but to give him time off. Time off to help Connor recover. 

Because Connor was going to recover. 

He had to. 


	5. FOUR

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> “I’m sorry. I wish we had more to tell you.”

Connor doesn’t remember much about being in the psych ward in high school, but he doesn’t remember it being as fucking frustrating as this. 

First things first, he’s medicated. Like, seriously medicated. They’ve put him on… something, he’s not sure what, but it’s supposed to be an antipsychotic, he thinks? At any rate, it’s making him feel fuzzy, dull and lifeless, which is not helpful when he needs his wits about him, needs to somehow figure out how he’s going to get back. 

Because he is going to get back to his reality. 

No matter how long it takes. 

Secondly, there’s a lot more group therapy than he remembers. Considerably more. Connor’s become more used to people over the last few years, ever since he took over the bookstore (and that’s a whole other thing, fuck, he’s supposed to be at work, will he even have a job to go back to after this, fuck), but he’s still not exactly comfortable being vulnerable around strangers, which seems to be the whole fucking point of group therapy. 

Which he has to be at pretty much every day. 

His second day in the psych ward, his mom shows up. She looks tired and scared and there’s this look on her face that’s almost like disappointment. 

Like she’s sitting there thinking “Jesus Christ, here we go again, I thought we were done with this shit.”

Which is, in all honesty, fair enough. 

The psych ward of a hospital is the last place Connor ever wanted to end up again. 

“How are you feeling, sweetheart?” his mom asks. She’s holding her purse tight, frowning, looking like she wants to reach out and hold his hand but holding herself back. 

And that’s his fault. 

She’s holding herself back because this is two years ago, when he and his mother barely spoke, barely interacted at all. 

She doesn’t…

She doesn’t think he  _ wants _ his hand held, and that feels like a punch in the face. 

Like how he punched Zoe in the face when he tried to jump out the window. 

Fuck. 

Fuck. 

Fuck. 

Fuck. 

“Tired,” he says, as close to honestly as he can. “I… mostly tired.”

She looks straight at him, her eyes dark and sad. “What did the doctors say?”

“They’re adjusting my meds,” he says, parroting back what they’d told him. “Gave me some recommendations for therapists in the area.”

Connor still isn’t sure if he should try to get hold of Praveed. He should be around, because Connor started seeing him a month after he turned 27, but at the same time…

If Praveed doesn’t exist, then that might mean that everything else was just his imagination, and he doesn’t think he can handle that. 

Because he is going to get back to his reality. 

He has to. 

He absolutely has to. 

His mom smiles, a smile that doesn’t reach her eyes, and opens her purse. She pulls out a packet of Oreos opens it and offers it to Connor. 

He takes a cookie and hands the packet back to her. 

Then tentatively takes her hand in his and holds it gently. 

Cynthia looks surprised, but something in her face shifts, and she squeezes Connor’s hand softly. “You’re going to be okay, sweetheart.”

Connor leans his head on his mom’s shoulder and tries to believe her. 

Zoe drops by a couple of times, armed with books and M&Ms, but she never stays long. She looks tired and scared and jumpy, watching Connor carefully like he’s going to implode at any minute, that he’s going to jump out a window or slit his wrists and it’s then that Connor realizes that his sister has now seen him try to kill himself twice. 

It makes him feel sick. 

Sick, and completely disgusted with himself, because she doesn’t need to see that. 

She should never have to see that again. 

Connor’s surprised she even wants to see  _ him.  _ After everything. 

It’s strange how normal it feels to be back in this space, back in this reality where he and Zoe are a million worlds apart. They have worked so hard at being okay, so hard at having a good relationship, and here they are, back at square one, and Connor’s left with the knowledge that it doesn’t have to be this way. 

That there’s another way this story can go. 

But she’s scared and she’s wary and he doesn’t belong here, doesn’t belong in this reality, and he doesn’t know what will happen if he gets to go back to where he belongs. Would the Connor in this reality snap right back? Would he remember anything that had happened? Or would he just… disappear?

He hates the idea of hurting Zoe, hurting his mom, but these people visiting him in the hospital in this reality…

They’re not his version of his mom and his sister. 

Fuck, what’s happening back in the real reality?

Maybe the Connor from this reality is there, and he doesn’t know Evan and he doesn’t know he owns a bookstore and he’s not close to his mom or his sister and everything’s a heartbreaking mess and his family are confused and worried that Connor’s lost two years worth of memories. 

Or maybe he’s just…

Is he dead?

How does he know if he’s dead?

He has no idea. 

No fucking clue. 

He doesn’t know where he would even start to try to figure this out. 

* * *

The fishing waste case was over and Jonathan was so elated that he hugged Evan, actually  _ hugged  _ him, and told him he could take the rest of the week to work from home. “Can’t have Larry Murphy showing up and wringing my neck can I?”

Evan didn’t feel anything like celebrating. He hurried back to the hospital, feeling like a cheap imitation of a person. Like he’d been warmed up in the microwave or something. He wanted to sleep for a week, but he had to keep pushing through, he had to keep going. Connor needed him. 

Evan couldn’t stop because Connor needed him. 

He headed into the hospital room, the visitor pass stuck to his chest lopsidedly. Zoe and Cynthia were sitting in chairs on either side of Connor’s bed. 

Evan could tell that Zoe had been crying. 

He suddenly remembered, vividly, from high school, happening upon her being visible upset in the library after Thanksgiving his senior year. Trying to talk to her, but crashing and burning the conversation…

That was probably when Connor tried to kill himself, Evan realized in retrospect.

“What’s going on?” He asked, taking the vacant seat beside Zoe. 

“Nothing,” Zoe said bitterly. “That’s the… the problem. They’ve been pumping him full of stimulants all day, but he’s not waking up.”

Cynthia looked at Evan. “They’re saying it’s… it’s a coma? They’re going to take him for a CT. Make sure there’s nothing that they could have missed. Check for brain activity.”

Evan swallowed hard. 

“Larry’s on his way,” Cynthia said, as if it was an afterthought. 

“He should have been here from the beginning,” Zoe said bitterly. 

Cynthia opened and closed her mouth a few times. 

Evan felt sort of felt like crying. All he could think of was that the last time he’d seen Connor’s eyes open, he’d been making no sense. Saying stuff about Facebook and speaking Hebrew and…

“Wait,” He said out loud. Evan’s heart was pounding hard. “Hebrew!”

“What?” Cynthia said. “Sweetheart, what was that?”

“In the ambulance, Connor started speaking Hebrew,” Evan said. “He doesn’t speak Hebrew. I thought it was… he had a fever, I thought it was that, but. Maybe it’s. It could be important? A symptom or-or-or something?”

Zoe had light in her eyes for the first time since yesterday. She slammed her finger on the call button beside Connor’s bed, and a nurse arrived in a few minutes. 

“Can we speak to the doctor?” Evan said. “There’s something that happened on our way here… it might be important.”

The doctors listened patiently as Evan explained how Connor hadn’t been making sense in the ambulance, how he’d spoken Hebrew. 

“And you’re sure he speaks no Hebrew?” The doctor said, looking skeptical. 

“He… we’re Catholic,” Cynthia volunteered. 

“He came with me to passover seder this year,” Evan said. “But… I  _ know  _ he wouldn’t know that. He wouldn’t know what he said, I swear.”

The doctor nodded. “It could be something neurological.” A few more tests and scans were scheduled, and they wheeled Connor’s entire hospital bed out of the room so they could take him to CT. Evan felt something uncoiling a little inside of him, like he’d managed to do one thing right at least. 

“Dad’s on the warpath,” Zoe said to Evan when Cynthia got up to use the bathroom. Her voice was low, tense. “He’s talking about suing the doctors.”

Evan privately thought that might not be the worst idea. 

“He hasn’t even been here,” Zoe said, sounding disgusted. Her jaw was clenched tightly. Evan grabbed her hand and gave it a squeeze. 

“Have you taken a break?” Evan asked her. “I mean. I know you went home last night, but your mom was there. I’ve been working at least… You can take a break.”

“I can’t leave him,” Zoe said. “I. We. We spent years not talking, I can’t… that’s my fault.”

“Zoe, no -”

“We were actually okay, at the end of high school? Not great but, like, okay? But our parents broke up and I… I blamed him and we stopped talking.  _ I _ did that. And I just got him back. I can’t leave him now.”

“He knows you’re here,” Evan said, inventing a little wildly. “Go take a walk. Call a friend or… or get a drink or something. You don’t have to do this alone.”

Zoe smiled wearily. “Maybe I’ll. Take a walk. Get some more coffee.”

Evan took in the bags under her eyes, the pallor of her skin. “Have you slept?” Evan asked her. “Things always feel worse when you haven’t slept.”

“Which one of us is the therapist?” She said, rolling her eyes. 

“Come on, we need to take care of ourselves,” Evan said gently. “If we fall apart, who’s going to take care of him when he wakes up?”

Zoe nodded. “You’re right. Maybe once he’s back from CT…”

“I’ll be here. I’m off work the next few days. I’ll be here, okay? Go home. Sleep. We’ll… take shifts or something.”

Zoe hugged Evan tightly. “If anything changes…”

“I will call you,” Evan promised. “I swear.”

“Thank you,” Zoe said. She headed home not long after, and then Cynthia said she was going to check herself into a hotel for the night once Connor was back. 

“Nothing more we can do. You should go home too,” She said to Evan. “You look exhausted.”

“In a little while,” Evan said. “I’ll go home and sleep in a little while. I just… I just want to be here for a little while longer.”

Connor was returned, still unconscious, to his hospital room. Evan and Cynthia waited anxiously for the doctors to arrive. Before long, Dr. Altera and another, older doctor, appeared to go over the scans. 

“Everything appears normal,” Dr. Altera explained. “The infection is cleared from his body. He’s recovering well from surgery. Nothing neurological on the scans.”

“So what is going on?” Cynthia demanded. “Why won’t he wake up?”  
“Our theory,” The other, older doctor said, “Was that he had issues metabolizing the anesthetic we used.” He introduced himself as Connor’s anesthesiologist. “So we’re going to need a more complete medical history to rule out anything that might have caused this reaction.”

Cynthia answered most of the questions, filling the doctors in on Connor’s history of anemia, his mental health concerns, but Evan answered others. Changes in diet? Connor drank more almond milk and ate less pork now. Changes in sleep or behavior? Nothing Evan had noticed. 

“The anemia shouldn’t have caused this,” Dr. Altera said. “But it might… we’ll need to conduct more tests. I’m sorry, we should have more answers for you in the morning.”

Evan started to protest. 

“I’m sorry. I wish we had more to tell you.”

* * *

There’s too much time to think in the psych ward. 

Which… doesn’t help, because there’s just too much to think about. 

Connor spends most of his time trying to remember his life from two years ago, trying to make some sense of all of it, and there’s just… so much that’s different. 

So much that’s missing. 

He’d barely known Leslie. Hadn’t known Jax and Maureen. 

He hadn’t really appreciated Andi as much as he should have. 

And…

Evan. 

Fuck, he just…

Every time he tries to think about it, it’s like his brain revolts, like something inside him recoils, because he just…

He can’t be in a universe that doesn’t have an Evan. 

It doesn’t make sense, it doesn’t make any fucking sense, it just…

It can’t be real. 

He remembers talking to Evan in the lead up to his 29th birthday, the second anniversary of dying and dying and dying. How he’d made a joke about convincing alternate universe Evan to fall in love with him and how Evan had been so upset. 

_ “If you end up in another timeline, you’ll be fine. You and the other me can go fall in love and do it right this time, but what about me? If you’re gone, I’m going to end up alone!” _

It’s horribly, horribly bitter to think about now, because they’re both alone. 

He’s left Evan alone and he hates it. 

And Connor is alone in a universe where Evan’s dead. 

He’s dead. 

Connor remembers what he’d said to Evan during that conversation. 

_ “I refuse to go anywhere without you, okay? I’m fueled by caffeine and spite and I won’t let the universe take me okay? I love you.” _

He’d promised. 

He’d fucking promised and the universe took him anyway. 

Connor talks to a therapist every day. Says as little as he can get away with but enough to make it seem like he’s stable and normal and not a danger to himself or society.

The therapist wants to talk about Evan. 

Connor absolutely, one hundred percent does not want to talk about Evan with a total stranger. 

“So you and Evan were involved romantically?”

“Yeah,” Connor says, his throat drying up, because he hates talking about Evan in the past tense, he hates it more than anything, especially when he knows in his gut, he knows deep inside him that Evan, his Evan, is out there somewhere and it’s up to Connor to find his way back. “Yeah, we were.”

“And he took his own life. On your birthday.”

Connor doesn’t reply verbally. He just nods. 

The hospital-appointed therapist, whose name Connor can’t remember, looks sympathetic. “Did he know it was your birthday?”

Connor shakes his head. “No,” he says. Because Evan didn’t know it then, even if he knows now. He clears his throat. Tries to create a story that makes sense. “We were… it was new.”

“When did you and Evan meet?” the therapist asks, her voice even. 

“I can’t remember,” Connor confesses immediately. “We… we went to the same elementary school, same middle school, same high school. We grew up together, but we didn’t… we didn’t know each other, not really, until recently.” He clears his throat again. Tries to figure out what he’s going to say to make it all fit. “Just after Thanksgiving,” he says finally. “We, uh…. We go to the same liquor store. We ran into each other and got talking and… started hanging out and…”

_ We died and died and died and died and died.  _

_ We saved each other.  _

_ He was there for me when my mental health got bad, when I was so fucked up I was barely even a person, and he loved me.  _

_ He loved me so much.  _

_ And I still love him.  _

_ I will never,  _ ever _ stop loving him.  _

“We were… sleeping together,” he says, after a moment. “I could tell that Evan wasn’t doing great, I just… I didn’t know it was that bad. I didn’t…” He clears his throat. It’s so, so dry. “I didn’t know he was gone until I saw it on Facebook.”

It’s quiet for a moment. 

The therapist breaks the silence after a while. 

“When you were admitted, your sister said that you’d been talking about another reality. That this wasn’t real, that you had to get back to Evan, back to your reality.” She tilts her head a little, seeming genuinely intrigued. “Can you tell me more about that?”

“I was upset,” Connor replies flatly. “I’d just found out on Facebook that my… that a guy I was sleeping with, who I really cared about, had died, and I… it didn’t seem like it was real, like it could be real.”

“You tried to jump out the window.”

Connor rubs his face with his hands. “Look, I was… it was my birthday the night before and I was super high on… something, I don’t even know what, my roommate’s approach to pharmaceuticals is kind of experimental? I don’t really… I don’t really know anything about another reality, or what I was saying. I was probably just… still high.”

The therapist looks at her notes. “Your blood tests did come back with some illicit substances, but not high enough doses to-”

“I don’t know anything about another reality,” Connor says, trying to sound convincing. “I… all I know is that the guy I was fucking is dead and that I loved him, okay? I  _ loved _ him, and I couldn’t… I didn’t know how to save him.”

It takes him a moment to realize he’s crying. 

And it’s like knowing he’s crying means that the floodgates open, because he just.

Breaks. 

Sobs and sobs and sobs for what feels like hours, because he’s scared and he’s alone and Evan’s gone and he couldn’t save him and his mom doesn’t think he cares about her and his sister’s afraid of him and his closest friends don’t know him and his cat doesn’t exist. 

And somewhere, in another reality, there could be another version of him who doesn’t know the people he loves. 

Or a version of him who isn’t even there at all. 

The therapist hands him a box of tissues and he sobs and sobs and sobs, wishing that he wasn’t here, wishing that there was someone who knew him, who could hold him tight and tell him everything’s going to be okay, even if they had no fucking evidence to back that up. 

But he doesn’t have anyone. 

Not here. 

He hadn’t realized. 

He hadn’t realized how alone he really was. 


	6. FIVE

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> "I want to help but… you gotta give me something. Are you in there?”

Evan woke up when a nurse shook his shoulder. He didn’t even realize he’d fallen asleep. Last thing he remembered was watching an infomercial at 4:00am on some kind of food processor. He recalled thinking that he’d seen the same infomercial back when he couldn’t sleep in law school, in undergrad, probably in high school too. Was this thing seriously still in need of an infomercial? Had they not sold enough food processors in ten years of late night advertising?

He must have fallen asleep while he watched them grinding coffee. 

Evan had paid off the nurse to get her to let him stay that night, staying in a chair beside Connor’s bed. He gave her a hundred bucks, and then wondered how awful the pay for nurses was that that convinced her to break the law for such little money. “Anything?” He asked her. 

She shook her head. “Sorry hon, he’s still out cold.” She looked sad.

Evan felt his heart sink. “Thanks.” He looked at Connor’s face, still relaxed, eyes still closed, and Evan felt sort of sick. Headachy and tired and vaguely nauseated. 

Connor hadn’t opened his eyes in days. 

This was bad. 

He’d been begging to stay, stay with Evan, stay… and Evan had no idea what that meant. He had no clue. But he felt… 

Something wasn’t right. Something… something not medical, something fucked up and strange like how he had thrown himself off of his roof one night only to open his eyes in his bathroom on the same night…

What if Connor was back there? What if he was trapped in the loops again? Alone?

Fuck, what if he was alone?

Connor had to know he wasn’t alone, he had to know Evan was here, that he was staying he was here. 

Evan grasped Connor’s hand in his, pressed a kiss to Connor’s knuckles. “Please. Please. I love you. Please come back. Please come back and stay. Please.”

Somehow this felt like it was his fault. 

If he hadn’t caused the loops, Connor would have had a normal appendectomy and he would be fine. Looped on painkillers, complaining about being taken care of, but fine. 

But this? 

This wasn’t right. It was wrong, something was seriously, seriously wrong. 

Evan felt so helpless. He wasn’t a doctor, so he couldn’t help, and the doctors didn’t know what to do either. He held Connor’s hand tightly. Talking to him softly. “I love you. You’re the love of my life. I want to help but… you gotta give me something. Are you in there? Are you still here?” 

Nothing. 

Connor’s eyes stayed closed. He breathed, quiet and even. His heart monitor beeped along normally. 

Evan didn’t realize someone was watching for a long time. 

He just kept telling Connor how much he loved him. 

But then it was clear that there were eyes on the pair of them, so Evan looked up. Larry Murphy looked like shit. He had large bags under his eyes. His gray hair, usually cut with military precision, looked less orderly than the last time Evan had seen him. He was in a golf shirt and khakis, and there was something unnatural about seeing him without a tie. Like his head might fall off, like that story about the woman with the ribbon around her neck…His neck looked oddly brittle without the tie as armor. 

Evan and Larry locked eyes. The last they’d seen each other, Evan had been rude to Larry, rubbing his win against him in Larry’s face because Larry had said horrible things to Connor, had made Connor withdraw into himself, doubt himself… Evan had started to picture Larry as a bit monstrous. Evil. The sort of person who intentionally hurt their children, threw them into depressive spirals because he wasn’t getting his way. 

This man? He didn’t look like the monster Evan pictured. He just looked old. Old and tired and worried. 

“Hi,” Evan said. He stood up. Larry extended a hand and Evan shook it. “Did you just get in?” 

“Had my bags sent to the hotel,” Larry said shortly. “I came straight here. Is he…?”

“Still nothing,” Evan said quietly. “The doctors are going to try some other drugs today, they said… I. They did a CT and it was normal.” 

Larry frowned. He sunk into the chair on the other side of Connor’s bed, his hand briefly hovering over Connor’s, like he might take it but thought better of it, and then it returned to his lap. 

Evan resumed his seat, took hold of Connor’s hand, almost defiantly. 

Larry just looked at Connor. 

Evan almost felt sorry for him. Almost. 

“I’ve looked into having him transferred to another hospital,” Larry said, perhaps an hour later. 

Evan looked up, waiting for him to continue. 

“This one. Clearly they don’t know what they’re doing.”

Evan sort of wanted to protest, because this was one of the best hospitals in the country, let alone the city, but… Larry had a point. Something was wrong, and this hospital wasn’t fixing it. “Where?”

“Back home, of course. Somewhere private.”

“No,” Evan was on his feet now, still holding Connor’s hand tightly. “No you can’t take him out of the city that’s… He lives here. His people are here.”

“And he’s in a coma here,” Larry said coolly. “And these doctors don’t even know what’s causing it.”

Evan thought he might punch him, but that instinct was overruled when Connor’s eyes flickered open for just a second. 

“Connor?” Evan said desperately, his hand flying to the side of Connor’s face. “Hey hey look at me? I love you. Look at me, please?”

But his eyes had shut again. Connor’s eyes were closed. As if they had never even opened. As if Evan had imagined it. 

“Connor please,” Evan said, shaking his shoulder. “Please come on, just open your eyes again, look at me… Please.  _ Please _ .” Evan felt his eyes fill with tears and he did not give a shit if Larry Murphy was looking at him. Larry’s voice echoed distantly, calling for someone to come look, come check. 

Nurses and doctors rushed in, all assessing and checking, shining lights in Connor’s eyes and taking his vitals. Evan wrapped his arms around himself, waiting, desperate. He had to be waking up. He had to be. 

The doctors all determined that Connor was still unconscious; his eyes opening might have been a fluke. 

“That’s not… that’s not an answer,” Evan protested weakly. “You can’t just. He opened his eyes! That has to be something!” He looked at Larry desperately. “You saw, didn’t you? You saw his eyes open?”

Larry frowned. “I honestly didn’t.”

“I’m not… I didn’t imagine that!” Evan insisted. “I swear, his eyes opened, I swear -” 

“Sir,” One of the nurses said gently. “Why don’t you go and get some air?”

He knew it wasn’t a request, and Evan felt like he was seconds away from having a panic attack anyway, and he refused outright to have one in front of Larry Murphy. He stepped into the hall, pausing to dry swallow a Valium, and then headed outside to smoke.

* * *

Connor’s been in the psych ward in an alternate reality for five days and is getting used to the routine when there’s a new girl at group therapy with a face that looks vaguely familiar but he can’t quite place. It scratches at the back of his mind, soft but insistent, like a pimple in a weird place or the feeling you’ve left the stove on. 

The guy who leads the group therapy sessions is the kind of guy that looks like he should be frolicking in a field, spinning in a circle, talking about how wonderful life is, accompanied by a list of possible medication side effects. 

He is way, way too enthusiastic about being in a room full of nutjobs. 

They introduce themselves, like normal. They’re supposed to say their name and a Fun Fact about. themselves. 

If Connor weren’t so concerned about getting out of here so he could start trying to figure out how he’d gotten stuck in an alternate reality and how he’s going to get back to the right one, his facts would be a lot more fun. 

_ Hi, I’m Connor and an alternate universe version of my boyfriend killed himself on my birthday. _

_ Hi, I’m Connor and I’m trying to get back to my own reality because this one is definitely fake.  _

_ Hi, I’m Connor and everyone I care about is either dead, afraid of me, doesn’t know who am I or hasn’t been born yet.  _

“Hi, I’m Connor and I co-own an indie publishing company.”

Something shifts in the expression of the girl with the face he might recognize. Maybe he knows her from Leatherbird. He doesn’t usually meet the authors, but he’s seen a lot of author photos. That could very well be it. 

That’s one mystery potentially solved, at least. 

If only crossing over to another reality were that easy. 

They go through the rest of the group and when they finally get to the girl with the face he might recognize, she smiles this too-bright smile and Connor’s immediately on edge, too alert, something vibrating through him like he’s just taken a bite into aluminum foil. 

“Hi, I’m Jenny and I’ve died then immediately respawned in my bathroom looking my reflection in the mirror like some kind of fucked up video game twenty-seven times on a never-fucking-ending Sunday.” 

Medication-commercial-guy looks intensely uncomfortable. “Nice to meet you, Jenny, maybe we should-”

“I’ve also checked myself into this facility six times because it decreases my chances of immediately dying considerably,” she continues, looking straight at Connor. “But I’ve never made it any further than Tuesday morning. And this is the sixth time I’ve been in this group therapy session on this particular day but it’s the first time I’ve seen this guy with the long hair in attendance and I’m pretty fucking sure that’s significant, somehow.” She leans in, her long, jet black hair swaying like a curtain. “So what’s your real story, Connor?”

“Did you get a book published through Leatherbird?” he blurts out. 

She grins. “Unknowable Bee Monsters. So you  _ are _ that Connor.” She leans back into her chair. “Three months ago you told me I use too many adjectives.”

“I stand by that.” Something occurs to him. “I didn’t know you were Australian.”

“Really? When you were editing my book, you were taking out rogue letters all over the fucking place.”

“We need to keep going, perhaps the two of you can talk later,” says Commercial Man, and Jenny salutes him with a goofy smile. This big, wide, hopeful grin that’s weirdly contagious. 

This is really fucking weird, but it might be the best lead he’s got. 

As soon as the group session is over, Jenny heads straight to Connor, Commercial Man looking at them both suspiciously and talking to a doctor, which Connor takes a mental note of. Jenny takes his arm and almost drags him to a couch in the corner of the recreation space, then sits cross-legged on one side of it, facing him. 

He takes a seat and waits for her to say something. 

She doesn’t. 

She just stares at him, like she’s waiting for him to speak first. 

After a long moment, he finally does. 

“So, you like science-fiction.”

Jenny laughs. “I fucking used to, yeah. Dying over and over again tends to erase the whimsy.” Then her expression sobers. “You have a bad poker face, dude. When I started talking about death loops, I saw the look on your face. You know something, and you’re going to tell me.”

Connor considers his options. 

On the one hand, there is practically no chance that Jenny Parson, an Australian who writes queer pulpy science-fiction, knows anything about getting him back to his own reality. 

On the other hand, he’s never met anyone except Evan who’s admitted to dying and dying and dying like they did (although he has his suspicions about Alex and Mattie’s old roommate Charlie). 

On the other hand, he’s trying to get out of the psych ward, and being seen to go along with a story that sounds completely insane isn’t the best way of doing that. 

On the other hand, Jenny says she’s been here six times and he’s new. Which means that he’s not supposed to be here, which means that somehow, he’s changed reality. And that’s… something. 

On the other hand, he has well and truly run out of hands. 

“On my twenty-seventh birthday, I got stuck in a death loop with my boyfriend,” he says after a moment, as quietly as he can. “We got out of it by saving each other in our first loops, which was hard because… it got all fucked up and we didn’t know each other.” 

Jenny’s eyes widen. “Fucking hell.”

“But we did,” he tells her firmly. “We saved each other. We stopped the loop. That was two and a half years ago.” 

She looks at him intently. “Then why are you in the psych ward?”

“My twenty-seventh birthday was last Tuesday.”

“You said it was two and a half years ago.”

“It was, yeah.”

Jenny’s eyes widen even more. “You’ve time travelled.”

Connor shrugs. “I don’t know,” he admits. “All I know is that one minute I was twenty-nine and I had a stomachache and went to lie down, then I woke up and it was the day after my twenty-seventh birthday, and saw on Facebook that my boyfriend was dead.” 

“So it’s another reality,” Jenny concludes. “You’re from another reality and this reality is the one where you didn’t save your boyfriend.” 

“Yeah,” Connor says, and it feels so fucking weird to say this out loud, he feels like he’s breaking some kind of law just by having this conversation, but at the same time it’s like a weight is being lifted off him. “I kind of… I floated in and out for a while? Between realities. Sometimes people could see me, sometimes they couldn’t. I went to his funeral. Saw his mom and his best friend and his roommates mourning him.” He swallows, hard. “But sometimes I was… back in my reality, in an ambulance, and they were telling me I had… appendicitis? That I was going to have surgery and it was going to be okay, and Evan was there and I…”

He can’t bring himself to tell this stranger that he saw Evan jump. 

That he couldn’t stop him. 

That he…

“I’m so sorry,” says Jenny, her voice soft. 

“And then it was Wednesday morning again, the same as it was before, and I saw on Facebook that Evan was dead and I… freaked out and they sedated me and threw me in here.” Connor leans back on the couch. “And that’s my story, which is probably fuck all use to you.”

“You need to get back to your reality,” says Jenny, biting her lip.

“And you need to stop dying,” Connor replies. 

“And we’re both in the psych ward.”

“Pretty much sums it up.”

“Yeah.”

“Yeah.”

They sit there for a long moment. 

Connor lets out a sigh.

“Well, shit.”


	7. SIX

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> “Something’s wrong. This is wrong.”

Other than the time Connor had briefly opened his eyes, nothing had changed. And Evan was clinging to that moment with both hands, a vice-like grip. It was real. He had seen it happen. He had seen it. 

He swore he saw it. 

It took about three days for news of Connor’s unexpected coma to travel to their friends. First it was the bookstore kids, coming in shifts. Jax, then Maureen, then Leslie. They reassured Evan they were taking good care of Edgar Allan Paw, that they were keeping things running smoothly. They’d changed shifts to cover all of Connor’s without having to close. 

Maureen had wanted to bring flowers but they wouldn’t allow them in the ICU, so she sat in the waiting room with Evan and folded origami flowers beside him while Jax visited and talked to Cynthia. 

“Where’d you learn how to do that?” Evan asked her. 

Maureen smiled. “I liked to hang out in the art room while the other kids ran around outside. I can’t really draw, but I fold a clean line. What do you think?” She showed him a handful of colorfully folded roses. 

“They’re beautiful.”

Then Maureen took a turn as sentry so that Evan, Zoe, and Cynthia could all go and eat something. Larry had been in and out all morning, usually on the phone. Evan had overheard bits of conversation, and he knew Larry was already working out a malpractice case. No matter what happened here, someone was definitely getting sued. 

Evan had started to keep detailed notes of what treatments and drugs they tried, what theories they tested to wake Connor up. At first it was just for himself, for himself and Zoe and Cynthia, to try to keep it all straight… but now it was more about trying to keep track of what didn’t work, what failed. 

Evan didn’t want to ally himself with Larry, but he still caught him outside of Connor’s hospital room on his way back from lunch. Zoe and Cynthia hadn’t returned yet. He strode up to Larry and asked if had requested a copy of Connor’s medical records yet. 

“How would that help me?”

“I’ve been… I’ve been keeping notes,” Evan explained. “Of everything the staff here has told me they’ve done or tried. I’ll get you a copy. Just… In case there’s any discrepancy.” 

Larry nodded. 

“You’re his parent… I’m not legally able to see them. But you can ask. If they push back, I’d mention that you know Rex Sugarman?”

“I don’t know a Rex Sugarman,” Larry said, shaking his head slightly. 

Evan rolled his eyes. “You do. You just know him from before he transitioned. He went by Deborah until 2010.” Evan shook his head. 

“Deb was a partner at my firm,” Larry said, almost smiling. 

“ _ Rex _ is the malpractice attorney on retainer for the surgical staff,” Evan said pointedly. “You’ll want to mention that you’re old friends.”

Larry nodded again, clearly having understood. “Thank you,” he said, his voice rough. He strode away to speak to a nurse. 

Andi turned up sometime that afternoon. Evan wasn’t sure he had ever seen her look so down. Or that he’d ever seen her wearing so many clothes. Despite it being a warm summer day, she showed up in a dress and a sweater. Even her hair seemed less lively. She hugged him and Zoe both in her usual bone-crushing way, and Larry eyed her bright red afro with suspicion. 

Not long after, a nurse appeared to remind them that Connor could only have three visitors at a time in the ICU, and Evan and Andi stepped out to give the Murphys some time. 

Andi’s skin had taken on a pale, ashy look, and Evan helped her sit down because she looked unsteady on her feet. “Something’s wrong,” She said, her voice wobbly. “This is wrong.”

Evan nodded. “Yeah. Something is definitely wrong.”

“I feel like… like he’s not in there, you know?”

Evan shrugged. He didn’t know what to make of that.

“I… What should I do?” Andi asked him, and Evan didn’t immediately realize that she was genuinely asking. “What am I supposed to do?”

“I don’t… I don’t know,” Evan said helplessly. 

The parade of people didn’t stop with Andi. Around dinnertime, Gladys and Martha showed up with food for everyone. They shooed the Murphys out of the room, insisting they take a break to eat something other than hospital food, and sat with Evan at Connor’s bedside. 

“It’s not right,” Gladys said, her characteristic no-nonsense voice noticeably absent. She sounded worried. “He’s too young for this.” 

Martha nodded in agreement. She reached out and held Connor’s hand tightly, holding it in one hand and patting it with the other. Something about the act made Evan want to cry. 

“How are you holding up?” Gladys asked Evan. 

“Doing my best,” Evan said, feeling the sudden weight behind the words. He was exhausted. Utterly beat. But he couldn’t leave Connor. He just couldn’t. “It… I know it means a lot that you’d come.”

“Of course dear,” Martha said as if Evan was being ridiculous. 

“I told Leslie I’ll pick up a few hours this week,” Gladys said. “To help out with the store. Cover lunches, work the register for a few hours so everyone gets a break. Keep things running smoothly. She said you’ve been handling the bookkeeping and all of the bills from here.”

“Oh,” Evan said, surprised that Leslie even knew that. He hadn’t been able to sleep much, so he’d run the numbers for the month for Connor and put in a supply order. “Yeah I… I helped him set up all of that so. It’s not like…. It’s not a big deal.”

“Kind of you to do.” Gladys gave him a pale smile. “I”m happy to help with that. If you need it.”

“Thank you. I just… I don’t want to let him down,” Evan said quietly. 

“I know dear.”

Visiting hours ended at nine, and Cynthia insisted that she be the one who stayed with Connor that night. Evan went back to his own apartment for the first time in days because he was running out of clothes to keep at Connor’s place. He pulled on his pajamas with numb fingers and habitually went to take his meds… Only realize he’d left them at Connor’s apartment. Shit. He hadn’t even realized. 

He’d swing by and take them in the morning. 

On his way back to the hospital. 

Fuck. 

Evan crawled into bed, exhausted, certain he would fall asleep immediately because it had been such a taxing few days. He closed his eyes and…

Nothing happened. 

Just. 

Nothing. 

He rolled over, restless and tried again. 

And again. 

He just laid there, listening to the ticking of the clock in the living room as it seemed to grow louder and louder. Listening to the increasing volume of his heart beating in his chest, his blood pumping in his veins, and what if Connor stopped breathing, what if he stopped breathing, stopped existing, what if he died and Evan was here just trying and failing to sleep. 

He got out of bed. Called the hospital for an update. 

“No change. He’s stable for now. Still hasn’t woken up.”

Evan hung up, feeling a sudden swell of anger inside of him and hurled his phone to the floor. He went into his bedroom, pulled on a pair of jeans, grabbed his keys and cigarettes and stomped out of the apartment and up the stairs and up onto the roof. Once there, Evan screamed. He just screamed until his throat hurt, until it felt like he was being ripped apart from his vocal cords. 

He wiped his face. Smoked a cigarette, sitting on a bench in the middle of the roof, not daring to get any closer to the side. 

He felt just. 

Overwhelmingly, stupidly, angry. Angry at the situation, at himself… at Connor. 

At Connor who swore, who promised not to leave… Who wasn’t here and Evan fucking needed him. He needed him and Connor was gone and Evan didn’t know what the fuck he was supposed to do. 

Really, what the fuck was he supposed to do? 

This didn’t happen. People didn’t have appendectomies and then fall into comas. People didn’t babble in languages they didn’t speak and then not wake up. 

People didn’t die twenty times and keep coming back…

What the fuck was he supposed to even do?

Evan wearily headed back inside. Retrieved his phone from the floor. No news. It was just after three in the morning. 

Fuck it. 

Evan poured himself a drink. 

Then another. 

Connor didn’t like him drinking alone, and Evan really hadn’t done it since he’d given himself alcohol poisoning. Never more than one drink at least. 

But he needed to shut his brain up for a while. 

So he had a third drink. Then a fourth. 

And suddenly sleep wasn’t so hard to come by.

* * *

Connor spends the remainder of his week and a half in the psych ward more on edge than ever and it’s all Jenny Parson’s fault. 

Knowing what he knows about death loops and the utterly bizarre methods one can find themselves dying, he’s just hyper-aware of absolutely everything that could possibly happen to Jenny, and possibly him. 

The building could explode in some freak accident. They could choke on their medication. On their food. They could trip in the shower. Someone else could stab them by accident or something like that. 

And that’s just the method side of things. Connor doesn’t know if he’s going to have to watch Jenny die or if he’ll die at the same time as her, and even if he does die at the same time as her, he doesn’t know what that means. 

He doesn’t know if dying in a freak accident will send him back to where he’s supposed to be or just trap him in yet another loop, here in a completely different universe. 

And what if he gets stuck in a loop and so does Evan, except Evan’s dealing with it alone back in the real reality, he’s just dying over and over again alone, without Connor to help him?

Or maybe he’s dying and dying and dying over and over again with that first Connor, the Connor who doesn’t know him, the Connor who doesn’t have their history, the Connor who belongs in this world. 

Maybe they’re falling in love. 

Maybe Evan’s with the other Connor and because they’re bonded by disaster and confusion and dying over and over and over again, Evan doesn’t even care that it’s not him, it’s not the right Connor, all he cares about is that he’s got someone, because this Connor, this Connor left him. 

There’s just no way to know. 

No way to know at all. 

But the days go by, and neither he nor Jenny drop dead. 

It’s incredibly fucking stressful being so on edge, but at the same time, he’s bored out of his mind. 

Connor’s mom visits every day and offers to take him back home when he gets out of the psych ward, which is… really fucking tempting, honestly. 

He could do with just being looked after by his mom for a while. 

Except that he needs to figure out how to get back to his universe, and he sure as hell isn’t going to figure anything out back home. 

Andi visits near the end of his stay, and she’s quieter than usual, but she offers to pick him up when he’s released and take him back to their apartment. She also tells him she’s gotten in touch with Gladys at The Little Book Nook and told her that Connor isn’t well, that he’s in hospital, that he’ll be in touch when he’s ready to return to work. 

That’s something, at least. 

He still has a job. 

They make it past Tuesday, and Jenny comments that this is the longest she’s lived by far. She seems surprised, but not convinced it’s all over, which Connor thinks is wise. 

The universe is still mysterious and arbitrary and likes to fuck people over. 

Connor had though, perhaps naively, that the whole reason he and Evan had died and died and died is because they were supposed to be together. They’d missed their shot in high school, all of the moments where they could have connected, and the universe had decided that enough was enough, that it was going to force them together by whatever means necessary. 

And they had saved each other. 

They had stayed together. Become friends. Had a lot of sex. 

Fell in love. 

Now Evan is the most important person in Connor’s life, and Connor is trapped in a universe where Evan is dead, and the universe is keeping them apart and he wants to scream and yell and cry and rage and punch a black hole and fix this, he wants to fix this, he desperately wants to fix this. 

But he’s in the psych ward, and there’s not much he can do from here. 

So he needs to wait. 

He needs to get out. 

Finally, finally it’s Sunday, a week after Jenny arrived in the ward, and they’re letting Connor go home. 

Since Jenny checked herself in, they’re letting her check herself out, too. 

When Andi comes to pick up Connor, Jenny’s waiting with her, and both women’s eyes widen in recognition. 

“Jenny, oh my god.”

“Andi? Holy shit, no way!”

They exchange a kiss that’s slightly too long to be platonic if this were anyone but Andi. Connor really shouldn’t be surprised that, apparently, Jenny and Andi know each other. 

And, if he’s not mistaken, have had sex. 

Andi is on frighteningly good terms with almost everyone she’s ever slept with. 

“How do you guys know each other?” Jenny asks, looking between Andi and Connor. 

“We’re roommates,” Andi says, giving Connor a tentative smile. 

“And friends,” Connor feels compelled to add, and Andi’s smile turns into something real. 

It’s probably the first time Connor’s actually called Andi his friend in this universe. 

That’s so fucked up. 

So fucking fucked up. 

“Do you need a ride?” Andi asks Jenny, and soon the three of them are climbing into the back of Andi’s VW Beetle, a car Connor always forgets she owns because she very rarely uses it. 

Andi’s talking a mile a minute about something and Jenny’s joining in, and without Connor even realizing what’s going on, they’re leaving the city, driving for nearly an hour until they’re at this kind of sketchy looking diner on the outskirts of town. 

Okay, then. 

“We used to come here all the time,” Jenny reminisces. “Do they still make that gumbo?”

“Sure do,” says Andi cheerfully. They sit in a booth and look at the menu and Connor’s hit with the feeling that if he’s going to survive in this universe, he’s really going to have to get used to just rolling with whatever the fuck is happening. 

When the waitress comes over, Connor wants to order scrambled eggs but he can’t bring himself to do it. 

It’s not the same without Evan here to give him hell. 

Instead, he orders the gumbo the other two have been raving about and a cup of coffee. 

When the waitress leaves, Andi pulls a thick wad of paper out of her bra and hands it to Connor. 

“What’s this?” he asks. 

Andi looks at Jenny, a little nervously, then back at Connor. “We can talk about it at home. It’s… something you said before you… I did a little research.”

“You researched alternate universes?” asks Jenny, eyes wide. 

Andi looks genuinely surprised. “You talked about it with Jenny?”

Connor considers his options, but before he can say anything, Jenny jumps in. 

“You’re the most open-minded person I know, Andi, so I’m going to be real with you. I got stuck in a death loop, and Connor’s from the future in an alternate version of reality.” 

Andi just stares at both of them for a long moment. 

Long enough for everyone’s drinks to arrive. 

The three of them sit there in awkward silence for what feels like forever, drinking whatever it is they’d ordered and not talking to each other. 

“Okay,” says Andi finally. She looks at Connor. “What I found in that article… I wasn’t sure about it, but I didn’t want to rule it out completely, and now that you’ve…” She sighs. Stirs her tea. Looks at Connor and Jenny again. “Can you tell me the whole story? From the beginning? Maybe we can figure out what the fuck is going on.”


	8. SEVEN

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> "You can’t fucking disappear when your boyfriend is in a fucking inexplicable coma!"

Evan woke up to his phone buzzing and buzzing. His head throbbed distantly and he blinked at the harshness of the light in the room. 

Zoe was calling him. 

And it was one in the afternoon. 

Fuck. 

Fuck. 

He’d been asleep for like ten hours. 

Fuck.

Evan answered the call, his voice coming out ragged and rough when he said, “Hello?”

“Oh thank god,” Zoe’s voice sounded relieved. “I was starting to worry.”

“Sorry I had a hard time sleeping last night I must have slept through my alarm… Did something happen?”

Zoe sighed. “No. Not really. Uh. Connor spiked a fever overnight, but he’s fine now.”

“Is he…?” Evan didn’t dare to ask. He hoped she’d say Connor was asking for him. He hoped she would say he was making jokes about how worried they’d all been. 

“Still out,” Zoe said, her voice gentle. “I. Sorry, I think I’m just… full of worst-case scenarios right now? I guess I just worried that you… That you might not be okay.”

“I’m spectacular,” Evan muttered, irritable. “Look, let me grab a shower and I’ll be there soon -”

“Maybe you need a day off,” Zoe said. “Take care of things at home. I know this has been a lot for you.”

“I’m off work. I should… I need to be there.”

Zoe cleared her throat. “I’m going back to work on Monday,” She said, her voice no-nonsense and leaving little space for debate. “I… I need. My clients need… It’s just. I need something to be normal.”

“Yeah,” Evan said. He couldn’t hide the betrayal in his voice, but it wasn’t fair to even be upset. He had worked the first two days of all of this mess. He couldn’t begrudge Zoe trying to hold onto her job. 

“Look, I’m not. This isn’t me giving up.”

“I know.”

“I don’t want you to think -”

“I don’t,” Evan said sharply. “I get it. Working can… help.”

“Yeah,” Zoe said gently. “I’m sorry I woke you.”

“I needed to get up anyway,” Evan said. “I… Are your parents still there?”

Zoe huffed softly. “They’re off in some stairwell arguing, probably. They’ve been at each other’s throats all day today. Dad wants to take Connor to a hospital closer to home, but mom won’t hear it.”

Evan felt like he might be sick. “And where do you fall?”

“I don’t get a vote,” Zoe said, her voice bitter. “I might as well not even be here…” She laughed hollowly. “I don’t think they should move him. Obviously. The possible complications of transporting someone in a coma that far?”

“Yeah.” Evan picked idly at his cuticle. It started to bleed. 

Zoe started to say something about how they were basically trying to give Connor, like, meth when Evan heard someone pounding on his door. “Hang on someone’s at my door.”

“Shit,” Zoe said. “I… Fuck, I was supposed to call her if I heard from you… Don’t be mad.”

“What?”

“Sabrina and Graham came to the hospital to bring us food this morning,” Zoe said. “And I was freaking out because I hadn’t heard from you and… She said she might come to check on you.”

Evan groaned. “How did she even get into the building?” He muttered. “I’ll call you back.”

“I’m sorry again,” Zoe said. 

Evan hung up, then headed to the door and pulled it open. Sabrina was standing in the doorway, looking pale and angry. Behind her, like a gangly pale shadow, was Graham, wearing a deep frown. “I’ve been calling you for two hours,” Sabrina said, shoving inside. “What the fuck, Ev? You can’t fucking disappear when your boyfriend is in a fucking inexplicable coma! You scared the shit out of me and Zoe. I called your fucking mom.”

“You called my mom?” Evan snapped. He held the door open for Graham, who looked extremely uncomfortable about being at Evan’s apartment. “Don’t call my fucking mom, Sabrina. You know she freaks out about this kind of thing.”

“Yeah, and she’s seriously thinking about showing up and dragging your ass home,” Sabrina barked. “Disappearing when your boyfriend is in a coma, for fuck’s sake.”

“I was sleeping!” Evan shouted. 

“This place is nice,” Graham said quietly. “I like the… curtains…”

“They’re my roommate’s,” Evan said shortly, rounding on Sabrina. “You cannot just show up and talk to me like this.”

“Fucking watch me,” Sabrina shouted, stomping into Evan’s kitchen. Evan and Graham exchanged a look, and Evan followed her. 

“What are you doing?” 

“You have no food here,” Sabrina said, her voice accusing. “Have you been eating?”

“In case you haven’t noticed, things have been kind of fucked up,” Evan said. “Forgive me for not taking the time to go  _ shopping _ .”

“You’re a fucking lawyer who makes twice what I do, I have a feeling you could figure out grocery delivery!” Sabrina shouted, and she was opening random cabinets now. 

“Babe, maybe… we talked about this on the way over,” Graham said quietly. “I thought we decided that approaching this calmly was better-”

“Great,” Evan said, angrier now. “Great, Sabrina, you the two of you are just, what, brainstorming what kind of a mess I’m going to be?”

“It wasn’t like that,” Graham said, looking alarmed. 

“Yeah, dumbass. We did because I had a feeling when we got here I’d find…” She reached into the recycling bin and unearthed an empty bottle of vodka. “This?”

Evan felt like screaming. “I’ve had that for fucking  _ weeks _ . What is the matter with you?”

“I am terrified you’re going to do something stupid because Connor isn’t around to stop you!”

Evan felt like he had been punched. 

Graham looked gobsmacked. 

Sabrina however, looked horrified. “Fuck I… That’s not what I…” Her bottom lip started to quiver. “Fuck. I’m sorry. I’m sorry I just… Are you okay?”

Evan sucked in a deep breath. “Yeah. I’m… I mean. No. I’m not okay. I just. I’m as okay as I can be?”

Graham looked massively uncomfortable. “I… Babe, maybe I should go.”

“You don’t have to go,” Evan and Sabrina both said at once. 

“I… you two. You need to talk. I’ll just. Call me if you need anything, yeah?” Graham kissed Sabrina’s cheek, clapped Evan on the shoulder, and then he left. 

Evan and Sabrina stared at each other. “I’m sorry,” Sabrina said. 

“Me too,” Evan said, sighing. “Also sorry about… Graham.”

Sabrina shrugged. “He’ll get over it.” She sucked in a deep breath. “I’m sorry I came in like that, I just… panicked.”

Evan nodded. “I just. I’ve been tired. Haven’t slept much. Slept through my alarms. I’m sorry.”

Sabrina nodded. “And you didn’t spend all night in here drinking alone.”

Evan shook his head. 

Sabrina gave him a half-smile. “Want to get trashed?”

Evan considered this. “Yeah. Why not?”

* * *

“Well, it’s been two weeks since I died,” Jenny says matter-of-factly. She’s lounging on the couch in Connor and Andi’s living room, smoking a joint that Andi’s just handed her, and she’s looking at the wall with interest. 

The wall which is, for all intents and purposes, a record of everything they know about death loops and alternate realities. 

After Connor and Jenny had explained what they knew about the whole situation to Andi at the diner, she’d jumped into action, which had involved her buying a fuckton of chalkboard paint, painting an entire wall with it, then using it as a really large blackboard to take notes. 

It’s been added to over the last week, with a whole section of ‘theories’ that mostly seem like plots for Jenny’s science-fiction novels. 

But it’s all they have. 

Everything they know. 

And no solid plan to get Connor back home. 

“Congratulations,” says Connor, trying not to sound bitter. “We seem to have solved your problem, at least.”

“Maybe Jenny meeting Connor was the key to breaking her death loops,” Andi suggests. 

It’s not entirely illogical, he supposes. 

It’s just…

That’s fucking great for Jenny, sure, but what about him?

“Maybe,” Connor concedes. “And… yeah, we never lasted this long when it happened to us, so… I think you’re out of the woods, Jenny.”

“Awesome,” says Jenny, sounding a little distracted. “Now we have to figure out why Connor’s stuck here and how to get him back to where he belongs.” She takes another hit of the joint, then passes it to Connor. “Obviously, I’m supposed to help somehow.”

“How do you figure that?”

Jenny just looks at Connor like he’s stupid. “Why would meeting you stop me from dying if I wasn’t meant to help?”

Connor doesn’t know if that really makes sense, but at this stage…

He needs all the help he can get. 

Connor takes a few hits, then lies back on the couch. He’d forgotten how comfortable this couch was. It’s been ages since he’s been at Andi’s. Most of the time Andi comes to visit him - shows up with food and weed and tries to convince Connor it’s fine to give Edgar catnip which is totally not just catnip, he knows her way too well for that. 

Fuck. 

“I miss my cat,” he announces, handing the joint to Andi. 

“You have a cat?” Andi asks, her eyes widening. “I love cats. We should get a cat.”

“I found him in an alleyway, just after Evan and I sorted our shit out and admitted we were in love,” Connor says, remembering. “His name is Edgar Allan Paw and he’s perfect and I miss him.” He takes another hit, then hands the joint to Andi, realizing to his horror that he might be tearing up. He blinks a few times, then continues. “Edgar was just… a really fucking good cat. He always made me feel like… I don’t fucking know, if I can keep a tiny furry creature alive, then maybe I’m going to be okay. When I found him he was so small and way too skinny. He looked like he hadn’t eaten for ages and… I was having a really fucking bad time with my mental health, and we just… we got better together.” He sniffs. “I miss him. I miss… everything.”

Andi moves to sit next to him. Throws her arm around his shoulder. “Hey,” she says, sounding more serious than usual. “You still have me, okay? I mean, I’m assuming we’re still friends in two years time.”

“We are,” Connor assures her. “You’re one of my best friends.” He lets out a sigh. “Fuck. Other universe you is probably worried about me. I’m sorry.”

“Not your fault,” Andi says, resting her head on Connor’s shoulder, then taking a hit of the joint. After a moment, she kisses Connor on the cheek, hands him the joint then gets up and heads over to the wall in a burst of energy. “Okay, so. I feel like we should bring in the big guns.”

“What big guns?” Connor asks. 

“My dad.”

Connor blinks. “I’m sorry, what?”

“My dad,” Andi repeats, like Connor should already know this. “He’s a physicist. Maybe he knows someone who specializes in this kind of thing.”

“No offense,” Connor says slowly, “but I feel like any scientist worth their salt is going to just laugh when we tell them about this.”

Andi crosses her arms defiantly. “Actually, any scientist worth their salt should have an open fucking mind. And my dad definitely does. I could call him and get him to meet with us. Talk about what’s happening and see if he’s got any theories, or knows anyone who could help.”

Jenny looks at Connor and kind of shrugs. “Look, what do you have to lose?”

“I could get stuck in the psych ward again.”

“I’m not going to let that happen,” Andi says firmly. “You’re not crazy, Connor.”

Connor takes a hit of the joint. “Okay, but… you don’t actually know that.”

Andi just looks at him. “Yeah, I do.”

“Really?” Connor asks. “Because I gotta be honest… I’m not even sure that I’m not crazy at this point.” He lets out a shaky breath and a breathful of smoke. “I… I could have imagined all of this. It’s possible I don’t… this was all some kind of really fucking intense dream, I’m hallucinating, or I’m dead and this is… I don’t know what’s real. I don’t know for sure that I’m not crazy.”

Andi stops. Moves back to where he’s sitting on the sofa. Kneels down so she’s eye-level with him. 

“Connor. I believe that something unexplainable is happening to you,” she says, her voice gentle. “I’ve known you for a few years now, and the minute you woke up the day after your birthday, the moment I saw you, I could tell that something was different. I could sense it. And you were so upset, so freaked out, and I could tell something was wrong and I… I should have stopped Zoe from calling, I should have stopped her and just talked to you, I’m sorry.”

“No,” Connor replies wearily. “She wouldn’t have let you. She’s stubborn like that.”

“You felt different,” Andi continues, something serious on her face. “I could  _ feel _ it. And after hearing what you said has happened, it makes sense, okay? This makes sense.”

“This makes no fucking sense, Andi.”

“I promise I’m going to do everything I can to get you home,” Andi says, reaching out and taking Connor’s hand, holding it tightly. “Okay? You are my friend. I’ve… fuck, babe, I’ve considered you family for years now, ever since you moved in.” She laughs a little. “Do you know how many people I saw for that room?”

“How many?”

“Thirty-three.”

Connor’s eyes widen. “Thirty-three?”

Andi nods and smiles. “Yeah, and I picked you. Out of thirty-three possible applicants, I picked you, because there was something about you that felt right.”

Connor thinks back to when he moved in with Andi. How he’d gone from living with his college roommate, to a guy who was possibly a serial killer, to a girl who cooked meth, and how when Zoe moved to New York he’d determined he had to get somewhere that wasn’t dangerous, just in case she ever wanted to visit, because he couldn’t expose his sister to that shit. 

Fuck, he had like… zero self-preservation instincts back then. Jesus Christ. 

And then he’d met Andi. Andi with her bright red afro, who smoked a lot of weed and painted a lot and answered the door topless when he came to visit and fed him garlic bread and asked him questions about books and…

Connor would be lying if he said that he’d felt some, like, instant connection to her. 

That he knew from the beginning they’d end up close. 

But he’d found her… interesting. 

Fucking weird, sure, but interesting, and she didn’t seem dangerous, like the other people he’d lived with.

So when she offered him the room, he’d taken it. 

He’d had no idea there’d been thirty-fucking-three applicants. 

No idea. 

He wonders if that’s something that’s unique to this universe. 

Maybe back home, it was different. 

He’ll have to ask if he gets home.

When he gets home. 

He’s going to get home. 

Andi’s promised she’ll help him. 

Connor’s known Andi for years now, and he knows that she doesn’t break her promises, but…

He doesn’t see how she’s going to keep this one. He honestly doesn’t. 


	9. EIGHT

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> "Sometimes I don’t think any of this is real. I don’t think I’m real."

“I hate gin,” Evan said to Sabrina after his third - no, fifth, definitely fifth - martini. They had made up a little makeshift bar on the roof, under the blotted out stars. They kept smoking, both of them, and it was making their voices rough and raspy. Sabrina was never really properly a smoker, but Evan was, and she decided it was rude to let him smoke alone. He appreciated it. It was nice not to have to be alone. 

But he hated gin. 

Sabrina shrugged. “Sorry. You wouldn’t come into the liquor store. Decisions needed to be made.”

“You  _ know _ I hate gin,” Evan complained. “I’ve never liked gin. And I couldn’t go in there, because Connor and Andre went to Columbia together. There’s a story about a wheelchair and a drive-thru… Connor never actually told me the story and I keep thinking about it because… Well I don’t know how it ends. And if I went inside then Andre would ask how Connor is and I’d… I’d have to -” He couldn’t finish. 

“I know babe,” Sabrina said. She patted his knee awkwardly. She hadn’t called him “babe” since they dated. She was definitely drunk. “Sorry about the gin. I should have gotten vodka.”

“Whatever,” Evan mumbled. “Gin is just vodka that shipped next to an air freshener anyway.”

“What the fuck?” Sabrina giggled, drinking more. 

“It’s like. Vaguely pine-scented. Or whatever. Juniper… It takes like all. Bad.” He took another sip of his drink. “Connor says vodka doesn’t taste like anything.”

“Pfft, it tastes like fucking vodka,” Sabrina said. Evan laughed at her. She looked at him, her eyes slightly narrowed. “Do you… do you ever like. Miss vaginas?”

“What?” Evan giggled. 

“Like. In a sex way? I don’t… I don’t get how being bi works.”

“Oh,” Evan said, shrugging. “I think it’s like… bacon?”

Sabrina wrinkled her nose. 

“Like, okay, so… Connor and Graham? They know me and you, we don’t eat pigs. So they… they buy turkey bacon. And it’s fucking delicious and whatever, and-and they’re happy. They’re happy with us so no bacon.”

“Right.”

“So like… not sleeping with people with vaginas is like. Bacon? Like. I know it is delicious, but I’d rather… keep my partner happy, you know? So I just. Have. Dick.” Evan laughed. “I’ve lost track of this metaphor, is dick turkey bacon here or am I?”

“You’re drunk,” Sabrina accused. 

“I believe that was the. Entire point.”

“Oh. Yeah. I guess.” Sabrina took another drink. “But Graham and Connor go out and eat bacon without us,” She said suddenly. 

“Oh,” Evan said. “Fair point… maybe we should. Uh. Have pussy dates?” He cracked up laughing and so did Sabrina. “Nope nope too far too fucking far. Sorry. Nope, that’s inappropriate. Sorry.”

Sabrina wiped her eyes. “Seriously though. You’re… drunk.”

“Yes?”

“You used to be able to… to outdrink me. A lot.”

Evan shrugged. “My new meds make me a cheap date,” He said. “Because I take drugs now. And uh. I don’t usually. Drink this much anymore.”

“Good,” Sabrina said with a nod. “That’s… That’s good.”

“Graham hates me,” Evan said suddenly, remembering how uncomfortable Sabrina’s fiance looked when he was in the living room talking about curtains. “Did you tell him about my stupid pussy dates joke?”

“That was like… just now.”

“Oh right,” Evan said, confused. “Graham does not like me though. He definitely, definitely hates me.”

“He does not,” Sabrina said dismissively. “He just. He doesn’t get it you know?”

“Get what?”

“Us,” Sabrina said. “You and me. Me and you. We’re… we have a thing that is different than mine and Graham’s and yours and Connor’s and he doesn’t  _ get _ it.”

“We don’t have a thing,” Evan said. “We’re friends. Best friends.”

“Yeah because most people are besties with their long term exes.”

“Well… most people. Are. Dumb. Or whatever,” Evan said. He sighed. “We are best friends, right? You’re not just saying that?”

“Yeah. We are.” Sabrina affectionately kicked him in the shin. “You’ve my very best friend. Best friend I’ve ever had.” 

Evan smiled, then rested his head briefly on Sabrina’s shoulder. “Why aren’t I in your wedding then?” He asked stupidly. “Is it… is the ex thing?”

Sabrina sighed. “I… I worried it would upset Graham?”

“See? I told you he hates me.”

“He does not hate you, Ev, you’re just paranoid.”

Evan rolled his eyes. “Maybe I just hate Graham.”

“You do not hate Graham,” Sabrina said with a laugh. “You’re being dramatic.”

“I do, I think I really might,” Evan said, talking with his hands. He sat up straighter. “You like him. Connor likes him. My mom even likes him. Everyone I love likes him and… I hate him.”

“You’re so fucking jealous,” Sabrina said, laughing, “For the dumbest reasons.”

“Yeah,” Evan said. “I mean he… what? Works in finance or whatever. He’s boring. He’s… mashed potatoes. Or mayonnaise. Cottage cheese?” 

“Or like… Cool Whip,” Sabrina said with a giggled. “Or… a marshmallow.”

“Those… they’re not kosher. Gelatin.” Evan hiccuped, reaching for the bottle of gin and taking a big swallow. He fucking hated gin. Gin was horrible. This was horrible. Everything was just… horrible. Connor was in a fucking coma. He was in a fucking coma and he wasn’t here, he wasn’t with Evan, and it was horrible. 

“You okay?”

Evan felt very far away from Sabrina now and it felt extremely isolating and excruciatingly lonely. He felt like his heart had climbed into his throat. Like he was choking on it. “I… I’m scared he won’t wake up.”

“Oh Ev,” Sabrina said, looking sad. “He’s gonna… There’s no way he won’t wake up. He’s strong, and young, and healthy.”

“Appendixes burst all the time,” Evan slurred. “This doesn’t happen. It doesn’t happen but it did. It’s impossible but it happened. He might not wake up.”

“You can’t think like that.”

“I don’t know what I’ll do if he doesn’t wake up,” Evan said sadly, lighting another cigarette. “I don’t know what I’d do.”

“Don’t think about it then,” Sabrina said. “You need to stay positive.”

“How can I stay fucking positive? My boyfriend is in a goddamn coma!”

Sabrina looked very young then. And very sad. And very very scared. “I know, sweetheart. I know. It’s not fair.”

“It’s not.” He wiped his face roughly. 

“I wish I could help.”

But she couldn’t. And she never could, that was the problem. She looked like a fucking fairy princess but there was no wand. There was no magic spell. Sabrina Patel was just a girl, just a person, and she couldn’t fix him or fix his life or fix the fact that Evan broke everything he touched, everything he loved. She couldn’t fix it and Evan hated her for it because it didn’t stop her from trying. She kept trying and it was maddening, infuriating, that she wouldn’t give up on him. 

Evan stood up unsteadily, dragging on his cigarette and exhaling a cloud of smoke into the humid summer air. There weren’t any stars. They were all blurred out by light pollution and clouds. It felt like it might storm. He couldn’t see the stars. An environmental lawyer who hadn’t seen stars in years. It reminded him of jumping, the blurred out stars, and his stomach lurched violently. “I don’t like being up here,” He said to Sabrina. 

“What?”

“I can’t be here. I need to… I can’t be on the roof.”

“So we’ll… go downstairs,” Sabrina said, blinking, confused. “Come on.”

“He’d be upset I was up here,” Evan said. 

“Who? Connor?”

Evan nodded. He felt sort of sick to his stomach now, woozy and unreal, like he was seasick in his own skin, like he was moments from tipping off the side of reality. When was the last time he ate anything? How much had he drunk? When had he gone up to the roof? And why? “He doesn’t… he doesn’t want me to come up here.” 

“Why not? He afraid of heights?”

“Don’t tell him okay? He’ll be upset.” Evan shook his head. “I need to get down from here.” He started to stumble toward the door, the exit, when Sabrina’s face went deadly pale. 

“Why the fuck would you say we could come up here when I asked?” She shouted, clearly upset. “I forgot, I forgot, I fucked up… I. Shit. How did I fuck this up?”

“I… I’m sorry,” Evan said, slurred. “I come up here sometimes. He doesn’t… Connor doesn’t like it so I… Sabrina, I need to get down from here,” He said. “I need to get down from the roof.”

“Alright,” Sabrina said, collecting their things and coming to grab him by the elbow. “Alright, we’re leaving. Shit. I’m sorry. Fuck. Fuck.”

She loaded him into the elevator and jabbed the button for his floor. Evan blinked at her slowly, his head not quite screwed on right. The flickering fluorescent lighting gave Sabrina’s face a cartoonishly skeletal quality and Evan stared as they slowly made their way down. “How do you know?” He asked her, and his voice was desperate, pleading.

“Know what?”

And Evan laughed, sort of half bitterly. “How do you know that… this is. That any of this is real?”

“What?”

“Like. That you’re a… a real person? That what’s happening to you is… is real life. Not a bad dream? That you’re not imagining it?”

Sabrina stared at him, her mouth open, her eyes confused and big. 

“Can I tell you a secret?” Evan said, stage whispering dramatically. Sabrina nodded, so he leaned in close to her ear. “Sometimes… Sometimes I don’t think any of this is real. I don’t think I’m real. I think I’m… I’m dead and this is just. All the neurons in my brain firing at once. Telling me stories.”

Sabrina looked sick. “You’re not dead.”

“My brain could just be saying that,” He pointed out. “I could be. This could be the… Matrix or something. Or I could have died. I could have killed myself two years ago and not noticed.” He swallowed uncomfortably. “Sabrina, how do you know I’m not dead?”

“I won’t let you be dead,” Sabrina said stubbornly. Then she reached out and violently pinched his nipple through his shirt. 

“Ow, Sabrina, what the hell?” It really fucking hurt. 

“See? You felt that. You’re real.”

That did make sense, in a sort of drunkenly logical way. But the problem, Evan thought, was that he didn’t want to be real. Not now. Not like this. 

“Don’t talk like this,” Sabrina said with a watery smile. “I’m not letting you not be real.”

Evan swayed on the spot. He’d had so much to drink… 

This is always what it came back to with Sabrina. 

He tried to explain what was wrong with him, and she told him that he was wrong. And he might be, he might be wrong, he might be totally and completely wrong… but she never listened. 

“I’m gonna be sick,” he told her plainly as she helped him through the door to his apartment. 

Sabrina frowned. “Don’t puke on me.”

Evan weirdly felt like crying because, like. Connor would have just said he was going to be okay. He’d have gotten Evan a glass of water, taken care of him, and Sabrina… didn’t do that never did he never let her… 

He stumbled his way to the bathroom and threw up until he felt the light around him fading. 


	10. NINE

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> “It would make you feel better if it were my fault, wouldn’t it?”

Connor’s not expecting to open the apartment door in late March and find Sabrina Patel.

Not even a little bit.

She looks… wrecked. Tired and pale and like she’s been crying. Her mascara is running, her nose is pink and her eyes are a little unfocused. She’s in a bright yellow coat he remembers seeing her in when she stood at Evan’s grave and what looks like a cocktail dress under it, teetering on high heels. Her hair looks like it was probably pinned up elaborately earlier in the evening but is now a mess and she smells strongly of alcohol. 

It’s nearly midnight. 

It’s nearly midnight, and Connor knows for certain that when they were 27, Sabrina Patel didn’t live in New York City yet. 

“What are you doing here?” he asks, as gently as he can.

“You know who I am?” she asks, chin jutted out defiantly, eyes narrowed.

“Sabrina Patel. We went to school together.” He pauses, trying to figure out what else to say. “You’re friends with my sister.”

“I am,” she replies, looking at him with this horrible dead look on her eyes. “She gave me your address. I need to talk to you.”

There’s a churning in his stomach. 

He knows exactly what she wants to talk about. 

He lets her inside, intending to bring her into the living room, until he realises that she’ll notice the wall, which is now full of increasingly detailed notes about parallel universes from the many, many books Connor has been reading on the subject. 

And notes about how Evan killed himself. 

About how Connor and Evan died together, over and over and over. 

She can’t see that. 

Sabrina absolutely cannot see that. 

Connor leads her to the kitchen. Gestures for her to sit on the still by the kitchen island. 

Pulls a bottle of rum from the shelf and goes to pour them both a glass, then thinks better of it and grabs a soda from the fridge for Sabrina. 

More alcohol probably isn’t going to help here. 

It takes a moment for Sabrina to say anything. 

When she does, her voice is so bitter it feels like a slap in the face. 

“Zoe said some bullshit about how when you found out Evan was dead, you freaked out, because you and he were…” She looks at Connor, her expression challenging. “She didn’t say exactly, but she said that you knew each other. That you  _ cared _ about him.” She ignores the soda Connor’s put in front of her and glares at him. “I want to know what the fuck was going on between the two of you.”

“I don’t really see how that’s any of your business,” Connor replies before he can stop himself. 

It’s absolutely the wrong thing to say, he knows it the minute the words leave his mouth. Her eyes flash with anger and she goes to say something, but he cuts her off before she can. 

“We were sleeping together,” he says, going with the story he’d told the therapist in the psych ward. “We ran into each other at the liquor store just before Thanksgiving, remembered each other from school and… started talking. It was… it was just a casual thing.”

“Evan doesn’t do casual,” Sabrina spits out. “I think you’re full of shit.”

Connor actually has to laugh at that. “He fucked pretty much his entire law school class after you guys broke up. I’d say he definitely does casual.”

_ Just not with me, _ he thinks to himself. 

_ Nothing between us was ever casual.  _

“So you know we dated,” Sabrina says, like it’s some kind of victory. “Did he talk about me?”

He doesn’t know what response she wants. 

What response is going to hurt her the least. 

“Sometimes,” Connor tells her after a moment. “He said… he said you were friends. Before you were together, you were one of his best friends.”

“We were,” Sabrina says, her voice quiet. She blinks a few times. 

Connor has no idea what he’s going to do if Sabrina starts crying. 

He and Sabrina, the real Sabrina… they’re friends. Not close friends, not the way Sabrina and Evan are friends, but they’re friends. Sabrina and Evan, the real Sabrina and the real Evan… their friendship is something Connor still doesn’t know he totally gets, but he knows it’s important to Evan, the real Evan, and he’ll never stand in the way of it. 

Fuck, Connor’s friends with Sabrina’s fiance Graham. In an actual, genuine way. They hang out a lot, a lot more than Connor ever expected when Graham first rocked up to The Little Book Nook, asking to put in an order for some Spanish fiction, and Connor had, on a complete whim, asked him if he wanted to grab coffee or something. 

He’d wanted Graham not to feel left out when the four of them hung out, so he’d figured he may as well get to know the guy. 

And. 

Well. 

Graham’s cool, for a straight person. He’s well-read, surprisingly funny and there’s this kind of awkwardness to him that makes Connor feel understood, a little. 

Connor definitely misjudged him when he wrote him off as a Wrestling Ken Doll. 

Sabrina lets out this harsh laugh. “This is bullshit,” she says with a sneer. “You don’t know him. You didn’t know him in high school and you don’t fucking know him now. You’re full of shit and you’re taking advantage of him dying like some kind of sick tragedy perv and it’s not okay, it’s not  _ fucking _ okay for you to be acting like you knew him, acting like he meant  _ anything _ to you-”

“I know him,” Connor interrupts, feeling his heart start to race. “I know him, don’t you fucking dare try to tell me I don’t-”

“When’s his birthday?”

“April 13th.”

Sabrina glares at him. “Who are his parents?”

“Heidi Hansen and Carl Balls,” Connor replies immediately. “Heidi insisted she take his last name when he was born because she’s a nice enough person not to want to saddle a kid with the last name Balls.”

“Fine,” Sabrina says, looking less sure of herself but still clearly pissed off. “What’s his Hebrew name?”

It takes a moment for Connor to remember, because he’s only ever heard it mentioned once. 

Sabrina looks like she’s won, looks triumphant, and it’s pissing Connor off. 

“Oren,” he says after a moment. “It means pine tree. He… he thought it was funny, kind of.”

Sabrina’s eyes fill with tears. She opens her mouth like she’s going to say something, then closes it. 

“Sabrina,” Connor says carefully. “I swear, I know him.”

Sabrina blinks. 

Blinks again. 

Thick tracks of mascara roll down her face as she closes her eyes tightly. 

Part of Connor wants to offer her a tissue, or a hug, or do something, because even though this isn’t the Sabrina he knows, the Sabrina he’s actually friends with now, it’s still a version of someone he cares about, someone he considers a friend, and it’s obvious that she’s in pain. 

If it’s anywhere close to the deep, deep sadness Connor carries around with him every day…

“You knew him.”

Connor nods. “I did.”

Sabrina stares at him. “Then why the  _ fuck _ did you let this happen?”

Connor’s heart leaps into his throat. “You think I  _ let _ this happen?”

“If you know all that, then you  _ knew _ him,” she spits out. “He let you in, he  _ trusted _ you, and you let him kill himself? Fuck you, Connor!”

“I fucking tried, okay!” Connor yells. “I tried so fucking hard, you have no fucking idea how hard I tried, fuck you!”

“I know what you did in high school,” Sabrina hisses. “I know that you slit your fucking wrists in high school, your sister told me. Did you tell Evan about it? Did you put the idea in his fucking head?”

Connor feels those words like a slap in the face. 

He hadn’t…

He guesses he’d kind of known that Sabrina knew something about his attempt in high school, but he didn’t know that she knew the details. 

“This is your fault,” Sabrina says, her voice caustic. “It’s your fucking fault, if you were with him then it’s  _ your _ fault, he was  _ your _ responsibility and this is on you!”

“It would make you feel better if it were my fault, wouldn’t it?” Connor says, his heart beating too fast, ringing in his ears. “Because if it’s  _ my _ fault, then you can just ignore the fact that he threw himself off  _ the fucking roof of his apartment _ the day you announced you were engaged, fuck you!”

They stare at each other for what feels like a long time. 

Connor feels a buzzing in his head, like everything’s vibrating, like he’s taken a bite into aluminium foil, and this is wrong, this is wrong, he shouldn’t have said that but he can’t take it back, he…

There’s a knock on the door. 

Then another. 

Connor can hear a voice from outside. 

“Sabrina? Sabrina, are you in there?”

Sabrina’s eyes widen. Connor closes his eyes for a moment. 

Rubs his face. 

Then goes to the front door and opens it to see Graham standing there in a tux, looking pale and stony-faced. 

He meets Connor’s eye, no trace of recognition in his face.

“I’m looking for my fiancée,” he says, his tone icy. 

“I’m here,” Sabrina says from behind Connor. She pushes past him and heads straight to Graham, her cheeks pink, her face still covered in mascara tracks.

“Are you okay?” Graham asks Sabrina, sounding scared and angry and relieved all at the same time. “You just left, I had no idea where you went, I called your friend Zoe-”

“Who has got to stop just giving out my address, by the way,” Connor can’t help but add. 

“Fuck you,” Sabrina says, her voice shaky. “Asshole.”

“Have a nice night,” Connor says, then shuts the door on both of them. 

He waits until he hears them walking down the stairs, then curls up on the floor by the front door and falls apart. 

* * *

Evan woke up on the bathroom floor of his apartment, his head cradled on a towel. His head was spinning and pulsing painfully and Evan regretted it the second he opened his eyes because his stomach gave a violent lurch. 

He lunged for the toilet, barely able to get his head over the bowl before he threw up. 

What the fuck had he been drinking last night?

He was sick again. 

Gin, apparently. 

Evan hated gin. 

Fuck. 

He threw up again and again until all he was throwing up was stomach bile. 

He wearily reached his hand up to flush the toilet, his movements wooden and slow. His arms felt sort of shaky and when Evan tried to push himself up onto his feet, his legs wouldn’t hold him up. He sunk back to the floor, his hand over his face. 

Fuck. 

He’d gotten really drunk. 

On gin, apparently. 

And now he lived in this bathroom. 

Evan tried to take a few deep steadying breaths, but when he did he could smell the lingering scent of vomit and cigarettes and it sent him diving for the toilet again. 

A moment later, the bathroom door opened slowly, illuminating the dimness. “Hey champ,” A voice said. Alex’s voice. Alex…was good. She was safe. “Looks like you had a bit of a party last night.”

“I don’t have alcohol poisoning,” Evan said stupidly. 

“I know you don’t, bud,” Alex said. She helped him to his feet. “Rinse your mouth out and we’ll get you to bed, okay?”

“Can’t brush your teeth after you puke,” Evan mumbled, nodding to himself. 

“It erodes the enamel, yeah,” Alex said, still keeping a watchful eye on him. Evan rinsed his mouth out with mouthwash, and Alex steered him into his bedroom. On the way they passed Sabrina, who was lying with her head in Mattie’s lap and crying. 

“She okay?” Evan asked, confused, his head spinning from turning it too fast. “I didn’t… Did I upset her?”

“She’ll be fine,” Alex said gently. “She’s worried about you. About Connor.”

Fuck. 

_ Connor _ . 

For a few minutes, Evan… hadn’t thought about his boyfriend Connor who was in a coma after a routine appendectomy. He hadn’t thought about Connor for a few minutes. A few glorious, mostly painless minutes. Sure his head hurt and his throat and his stomach clenched painfully but the giant hole where his heart was supposed to be didn’t ache as acutely. 

He hadn’t thought about Connor. 

He was a fucking monster. 

Connor was in a coma and Evan was drunk. He was an asshole, heartless, callous, he was worse than Larry Murphy, Larry Murphy wasn’t out partying while Connor was in a coma, what the fuck was the matter with him what the fuck what the fuck what was wrong with him whatthefuckwhatthefuck?

“Evan, you gotta breathe okay?”

He couldn’t. 

He couldn’t breathe. 

Maybe he was dying again. 

He realized, distantly, that death would be a relief. He  _ wanted  _ to die. He wanted that, he wanted it to stop. 

But he couldn’t breathe and it was just his fucking anxiety and Alex was talking to him, talking and talking, “I can’t give you any drugs when you’re this drunk, Evan, it would be too dangerous so I need you to count with me okay?”

He couldn’t. He couldn’t count or focus or remember numbers because he was dying and he was drunk and Connor was in a coma, the love of his life was in a coma and Evan was drunk and pathetic and disgusting and he had failed the man he loved he had failed him so hard a failure is a failure is a failure. 

“Shit, okay, okay, just come here,” Alex said, and she pulled Evan into an extremely tight hug, squeezing her long limbs around him like a snake winding around its prey. He tried to pull away. “It’s gonna feel worse at first,” she said, her voice still calm and gentle as Evan tried to struggle away. “It’s gonna feel worse at first, but then you’ll start to relax. To calm down. I’m compressing the sympathetic nervous system, I’m… Just don’t fight it. Don’t fight. Just… It’s okay. It’s gonna be okay.”

He kept trying to struggle against her, his heart pounding too hard against his ribs, pain like any second now it would burst through the bones and escape, but slowly, agonizingly slowly, his heart started to slow. His pulse stopped racing. He could breathe normally, without gasping or gagging. Alex kept hugging him, talking to him quietly. “It’ll all be okay. All of it is gonna be okay.”

“I’m so tired,” Evan said when Alex let go of her vice grip on him. “I just want him back, Alex.”

“I know,” She said, looking sad. “I know you do.”

“I love him.”

“I know you do. He knows you do.” She smoothed back his hair, an oddly comforting mom-like gesture. “I’m going get you some water, okay? Then it’s off to sleep with you. You need to sleep. Alright?”

“Okay.”


	11. TEN

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> "You always fucking do this. You can’t let me have one bad day without it being a referendum on how fucked up you think I am.”

Andi’s dad is on a business trip in Europe, giving a lecture about… something in Berlin until the beginning of April. When he gets back to the States, he’s promised to stop by and talk to them, which is… something. 

In the meantime, Connor just has to go about life as usual. 

Life like it was two years ago. 

When he was a completely different person. 

He barely remembers his routines, barely remembers what it was like, but the fact that he’s been off work and in the hospital means that he can get away with forgetting things, at least a little. 

His first day back at The Little Book Nook is… incredibly surreal. 

He knows this place, inside and out. He knows how it works, how it runs. He knows suppliers and insurers and authors and schools and all these things he’s not supposed to know yet. 

He’s been to Gladys and Martha’s place for dinner more times than he can count, but in this universe, he’s on friendly but distant terms with them. 

In this universe, he barely knows Martha, and he only knows Gladys as his boss.

In his universe, Leslie is one of his closest friends, his second-in-command. He’s been training her up as assistant manager and she’s good, she’s really good. 

Right now, she’s the newest employee, and she barely knows him. 

She’s nice, sure. Polite. But she’s distant because they’re not close. 

It hurts. 

It hurts to be in the same room as someone he considers one of his closest friends and have them smile politely like he’s a loose acquaintance. 

Then of course, there’s Garrett. 

Fucking Garrett. 

Garrett, who was such an asshole, who quit without notice and fucked everything up and sent Connor into a spiral and was just… the fucking worst. 

He still has to work with Garrett. 

Connor’s grateful that Garrett is still a self-involved asshole, because he doesn’t seem to notice that Connor is just intensely pissed off that he has to work with him. Leslie, however, seems to have noticed his change in attitude, even though he’s struggling to be polite and professional, and is definitely paying attention. 

It does, however, seem to be having the effect of highlighting the fact that Garrett is a self-involved asshole. 

Garrett says something truly douchey to a customer about Voltaire and Connor can’t help but roll his eyes and Leslie catches his eye and smiles at him a little and he smiles back.

It’s something, Connor thinks. 

Near the end of March, Gladys asks Connor if he has a minute to talk. Connor braces himself, not sure what’s going to happen. They head into the storeroom and Connor worries for a moment that she’s going to fire his ass. 

“I wanted to check in,” she asks, in her usual no-nonsense tone of voice. “I know you’ve been unwell. How are you holding up?”

“I’m okay,” he assures her. “It’s, uh… I’m on a new medication, so that should… help.”

He is, in fact, on a new medication, which is making him itchy and a little tired, but it’s taking some of the edge of the fact that he’s sad all the time. 

He’s just… 

It’s like a heavy weight inside his chest that he has to carry everywhere he goes, the knowledge that in this universe, Evan is dead. 

That Evan killed himself. 

That Connor couldn’t stop him, because he wasn’t there. 

Except that he was, but he couldn’t stop him anyway. 

He was there, but he wasn’t there, and in the end, it didn’t matter, because whatever happened, wherever he was, whatever he saw, it didn’t make any difference. 

He’s still here, in another reality, where Evan is dead. 

Where Evan never knew him. 

Where Evan never loved him. 

“That’s good,” says Gladys, the no-nonsense tone of her voice softening a little. “That’s good, Connor. When your roommate told me what happened, I was… well, I thought about coming to visit, but I wasn’t sure if I would be overstepping.”

Connor’s… a little surprised. “Oh.”

“Don’t tell the others,” she says, a twinkle in her eye, “but you’re my favorite employee. Always have been.”

Connor thinks he might cry. He blinks a few times. “Thank you.” He clears his throat. “I… I really love working here. It’s… it’s important to me. This place is important to me.”

Gladys nods. “I know. I see that.” She sighs. “I know we’ve talked about this before and I know it’s a bad time, but… I just wanted you to know that if you were interested in the manager position, it’s still open to you. I know you have the publishing company, so I don’t want to push, but… I thought I would mention it.”

Connor blinks a few more times. 

The last thing he wants to do is let Gladys down. Any version of Gladys. 

He’s trying to get home. 

Trying to get to his reality. 

He shouldn’t… he shouldn’t take on more responsibility here if he knows he’s trying to leave. 

But he’s only working part-time, and there’s not much editing work to do, and he’s got too much free time. 

Too much time to sit with the aching sadness of missing Evan, the aching sadness of having lost the most important person in his life. 

It might take a while to figure out how to get back. 

He’s already been here for weeks. 

He’s not…

He’s not giving up on getting home, he isn’t, but at some point, he’s going to have to start living where he is. 

Because if he doesn’t, that aching sadness in his chest is going to crush him. Going to chew him up from the inside until there’s nothing left of him, and that’s…

Evan wouldn’t want that. 

He’d want him to fight. 

He’d want him to fight his way back, and if that means playing along, then that’s what he’s going to do. 

“Let me think about it for a few days,” Connor says finally. He offers Gladys a weak smile. “It’s not a no.”

Gladys smiles back. “Alright, dear. You just let me know.”

* * *

Evan woke up. His bedroom was way too bright, his head was pounding, and he felt exhausted and terrible.

But not as bad as Connor probably felt, Evan’s brain reminded him. Seeing as Connor was in a fucking coma. 

Connor was in a coma and Evan had the nerve to be bothered by a hangover. What a fucking joke. He was such a fucking asshole. 

Evan dragged himself out of bed and immediately into a cold shower, trying to wake himself up and relieve the headache building and building inside of his skull. He took some aspirin then brushed his teeth before heading into his bedroom to get dressed. 

Evan realized distantly that it was the weekend. 

Strange. 

Weird that time kept passing, crawling at some points and flying at others. He had an email from Jonathan in his inbox asking Evan when he was coming back to work. Evan ignored it. 

It was the weekend after all. He wasn’t on the clock. 

He pulled on jeans and a t-shirt. Grabbed a hoodie because the hospital got cold sometimes. Then sneakers. He grabbed his phone and started to head out the door when he noticed Sabrina sitting up on his sofa. She looked like hell. Her mascara was smudged and her hair was in a messy knot on the top of her head. 

“Uh. Hi?” He said. 

“Where are you going?” She asked. Her voice was really rough, like she had spent all night smoking cigarettes and drinking heavily… which Evan realized distantly that she had. 

“I’m going to the hospital.”

Sabrina frowned. “The hospital…?”

“To see Connor.”

She frowned more deeply. “Not to… Not to check yourself in?”

Evan stared at her. “Why would I do that?” Evan asked, bewildered. “I’m hungover but I’m fine.”

Sabrina looked close to tears. “No, you’re not fine,” She said, her voice still hoarse. 

“I am,” Evan said. “Really, I just… Look I told you I hate gin. I’m sorry I got sick.”

“That’s not what I’m talking about, Evan.” 

He didn’t follow. He just looked at Sabrina, waiting for her to give him some kind of explanation. “I don’t understand,” he said finally when she didn’t go on. 

“You don’t?”

“I… Look, I hate gin? I must have like… blacked out or something. I’m sorry. That was stupid of me. I’m fine.”

“No. You’re not.”

Evan rolled his eyes. “Sabrina, come on -”

“Ev. Last night you told me that if Connor didn’t wake up you were going to kill yourself.”

Evan felt like he had been punched. He took a step back, shaking his head violently because that wasn’t right. That wasn’t right. “No I… I wouldn’t say that.”

“You did,” She insisted. “You were sick, you were throwing up and you said he didn’t wake up that you’d kill yourself.”

“I wouldn’t have…” Evan said breathlessly. “I’d never say that. I wouldn’t.”

“You did,” Sabrina insisted, sounding more and more upset. “You  _ did _ . You started talking about… about how you’d do it, if you’d cut your wrists or take pills or - it was like you were deciding between Thai or pizza for dinner or something, it was scary as hell. You -”

“No. I wouldn’t say that.” 

“You did. Ev, I swear -”

“He’d… Connor wouldn’t want that, I couldn’t do that to him.”

“You couldn’t do that to him?” Sabrina repeated dully. “To  _ him _ ?”

Evan didn’t understand. His head really fucking hurt. “He saved my life, I -”

“What about me?” She asked, sounding wrecked. “You wouldn’t do that to  _ Connor  _ but you’d do it to me?”

Evan shook his head, confused and unsure. “I don’t… No! I’m not going to kill myself, I don’t know what you’re talking about!”

“You told me you didn’t want to live without him, you said that to my face when you were throwing up! You did -”

“Everything okay?” Mattie had come out of her room, her hair wrapped in a silk scarf. She looked exhausted. “You’re yelling.”

“Evan’s going to the hospital to visit Connor,” Sabrina said, and her voice oozed contempt. 

“Alright?” Mattie said, not understanding. “How are you feeling?” She asked this of Evan. 

“Hungover but fine. Why does everyone keep asking me that?”

Mattie and Sabrina looked at each other. “You were kind of a mess last night,” Mattie said. “You were really drunk and really sick. Alex started talking about bringing you to the ER to get fluids into you.”

Evan crossed his arms over his chest. Distantly he was aware that his nipple hurt which was… odd. “So? Obviously she didn’t so… I’m fine. Sorry I inconvenienced you.”

Mattie frowned, holding her hands up like “stop.” “Listen, you were… You had a panic attack, I think? Alex had to, like, wrestle you into your bed. You weren’t making a whole lot of sense. You said something about how you had died before? You went on about manholes for a few minutes and then started giggling… It was weird.”

Evan swallowed uncomfortably, and for a moment he feared he might be sick. But he breathed through his nose and tried to smile. “I’m just. It’s been a hard few days. I’m fine. Sorry. I was just drunk.”

“He threatened to kill himself,” Sabrina said to Mattie. “Last night, he did, I swear -”

“I would not have said that!” Evan insisted angrily. “I don’t just... I’d  _ never  _ say that.” 

“Are you calling me a liar?” Sabrina asked, sounding hurt. 

“No, I’m saying you were drunk and-and I was drunk and upset, and I’m sorry that I scared you, I am, but I would not have just, like, flippantly said I was going to die okay? I would  _ never  _ do that.”

Sabrina looked like she might cry, and Mattie looked conflicted. 

“I think you should call your therapist,” Sabrina said. “You’re right. It’s been a bad week. You need help.”

“Seriously?” Evan said, disgustedly shaking his head. “Are you fucking kidding me right now Sabrina? You always fucking do this. You can’t let me have one bad day without it being a referendum on how fucked up you think I am.”

“I’m scared for you.”

“Fuck you,” Evan said. He stormed out before she could stop him, his heart hammering too loudly in his chest, his breathing too fast, his head pounding pounding pounding. 

She was lying. She was fucking lying. He would never have said that… because he knew it would kill Connor if Evan was thinking shit like that again. It would kill him. 

And he was already in a coma. Fuck. 

Fucking hell. 


	12. ELEVEN

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> “We’re so good at coping.”

Before Connor turned 27 (the first time), he’d gotten pretty good at dodging calls from his mom. 

Like, Olympic level, if not answering the phone when your mother called could be counted as an Olympic sport.

It wasn’t that he didn’t love his mom, or even that he didn’t want to talk to her. 

It was mostly that he just… didn’t know what to say. 

Didn’t know what to say to make her not worry, to convince her that he was fine, he was surviving, that all the bullshit he’d put her through was in the past and she could just cut him loose, let him go, that she was officially relieved of any responsibility for keeping him alive because he was a goddamn adult and she’d suffered enough. 

He’d just… kind of hoped that his mom would start to realize that he wasn’t her problem anymore. 

Because that’s all he thought he’d ever been to her. 

A problem. 

Something that needed solving, needed fixing. 

He’d put her through hell as a teenager. Nearly died. Destroyed his parents’ marriage, destroyed their family, destroyed everything and…

He’d just felt like the kindest thing he could do for his mom was keep his distance. 

And that meant dodging her calls. 

He remembers the first time he turned 27, before the loops started, that his mom had called to wish him happy birthday, first thing in the morning. 

He’d watched the phone ring. 

He hadn’t answered it. 

She’d called three times, then given up and sent him a text message, wishing him a happy birthday and telling him that she loved him. 

As soon as he got that text, he’d let out this breath he hadn’t realized he was holding, because if she’d texted, then she wasn’t likely to call again. 

He doesn’t think he’d replied to the text. 

Connor pulls his phone out of his pocket to see that no, he had not, in fact, replied to that text message. 

He stares at the conversation thread between him and his mom for what feels like a long time.

Then, completely out of nowhere, as if he’d somehow willed it into existence, his mom’s photo pops up on the screen, and he realizes that she’s calling him. 

He doesn’t something he wouldn’t have done before he died and died and died. 

He answers the call. 

“Hi mom.”

She sounds surprised. “Hey sweetie, I just wanted to check in. How are you doing?”

Connor considers. “I’m… I’m hanging in there,” he says, as honestly as he can. “I’m doing okay.”

There’s a pause on the other end of the line. “That’s good,” she says, her voice warm. “Sometimes that’s the best we can do, yeah?”

He laughs a little. “Yeah.” 

Connor closes his eyes. 

Hopes that when he opens them again, he’ll be home. 

With a mom who knows he loves her. 

“How are you?” he asks, opening his eyes to see that he’s still in this other reality, the reality where he and his mom are almost strangers. “Everything okay back home?”

“I’m good,” she says, once again sounding surprised. “I’m keeping busy. I was… I was thinking of doing some volunteering at the local elementary school. As a teacher aide.” She lets out this self-conscious laugh. “Don’t know if they’ll want me, but it’d be something to keep me busy.”

“You wanted to be a teacher before I was born,” Connor says, without really thinking about it. “They’d be lucky to have you.”

There’s another pause. When his mom speaks again, she sounds like she’s close to tears. “I don’t remember telling you about that.”

Fuck. 

Connor invents wildly. “I don’t really remember when you told me,” he says. “It might have been when I was in high school and we were… figuring out what I wanted to do with my life or whatever.” He tries to laugh, sound casual. “Pretty sure I told you there was no way anyone would trust me with children.”

“I don’t remember that,” says his mom, a smile in her voice, “but I think you don’t give yourself enough credit. You’d make an excellent English teacher.”

“I’d like to work with schools more,” he says, a little tentatively. This is something that he and his mom had talked about a lot, ever since he took over The Little Book Nook. He’d set up some partnerships with local schools, getting books to kids who might not have access to them otherwise. “Set up some reading programs through the bookstore. It’s… I might talk to Gladys and Martha about it.”

“Who are Gladys and Martha?” his mom asks, sounding a little confused. 

“They own the bookstore where I work,” Connor replies, and it stings a little, to realize that his mom doesn’t know this. 

Because he hadn’t told her. 

He hadn’t told her anything about this life before he turned 27. He’d kept it locked away, far away from her, he hadn’t let her in. 

“They’ve owned the place for thirty years,” he continues, feeling like he owes his mom this, owes her some information. “They’re married and they’ve kept this little independent bookstore running for decades, which is pretty impressive given how easy it is to get books online these days, you know?”

“I should visit next time I’m in the city,” his mom says, something warm in her voice. “What’s the place called again?”

“The Little Book Nook,” he says. 

“That’s cute.”

“Yeah, it’s… it’s a cute place.”

It’s quiet, and Connor’s not sure what to say for a moment. 

Until, all of a sudden, he is. 

“You know, if you’re looking for something to read,” he begins, trying for a casual tone, “I can always find you something that’s a bit off the beaten track, you know? Away from the mainstream. Just… let me know what kind of genres you like.”

He can hear the smile in his mother’s voice as she replies. “That’s very kind, Connor.”

“You speak French, right? We have a really good foreign language supplier.”

“I do,” says Cynthia, and Connor’s afraid for a moment that she’s going to cry. 

“There are some really great French novelists,” Connor says, because that’s true, and that’s something he and his mom have talked about in the past. “Next time you’re in the city, stop by and we’ll find you something. I’ll… I can email you some suggestions in the meantime?”

“That would be really lovely, sweetheart.” There’s another pause, then his mom continues. “Your sister… she explained a little bit about what happened. What… led to you ending up in hospital again.” 

Connor feels his chest ache, his throat clench up. “Oh.”

His mom clears her throat. “I’m… I’m so sorry for your loss, Connor.”

“Thank you,” he says, his voice barely above a whisper. “I, uh… thank you for visiting? I know I… I don’t always… I just… thank you for visiting.”

The line is quiet for a moment. He thinks he can hear his mom sniff. “Sweetheart, I will always be there when you need me,” she says, her voice soft but serious. “Nothing will change that.”

Connor really, really wishes she were here now. 

The real her. 

His version of his mom in the reality where he belongs. 

* * *

Evan barfed in a garbage can outside of the hospital. 

Low point. Definitely a low point. 

Evan filled up his bottle of water once he was inside, then checked in at the ICU desk as a visitor. 

“There’s already three people in his room,” the nurse said to Evan, not bothering to even look up at him. For a second, Evan felt a sudden, strange flicker of uncertainty. That maybe he wasn’t really there, that the nurse couldn’t see him, that he was imaginary. 

Evan shook it off. He was just hungover. He was just tired. 

He had a seat in the waiting room. Evan bounced his knee anxiously. Checked his phone. He should be… he could work. He could work, he could… 

He couldn’t work. He couldn’t think. It was like he couldn’t even breathe. 

He just stared, stared into space, for ages. For what might have been hours. Might have been days. He didn’t know. He stared into space forever. Until someone came and sat beside him. 

Zoe. She looked pale. Grayish. Exhausted. 

“Hi,” Evan said. 

“Hey,” Zoe said. Somehow she looked especially young today. Evan could practically see the indigo streaks in her hair from high school. 

“I got… wasted last night and cried a bunch. You?”

Zoe shrugged. “I ate three pints of ice cream, threw up, and went to bed at seven PM.” 

“We’re so good at coping,” Evan joked weakly. 

Zoe took his hand and squeezed it. 

“Your parents are still fighting?”

Zoe nodded. “I’m starting to worry that they’re going to loop around and, like, have hate sex or something. I dunno.” She sighed heavily. Sniffled. “It’s like I’m not there.”

Evan wrapped his arm around Zoe’s shoulders. “I’m sorry.” 

She leaned her head against his chest, and Evan held her tighter. 

He’d never had a sister. 

Well. Technically he had two. But… 

Zoe was like his sister. She was… family. Important. He needed to take care of her. Watch out for her. He let her cry for a while, her head pressed against his chest while he pet her hair and told her everything would be okay. 

He had no idea if things would be okay but that was what you said to someone crying in your arms. 

Zoe pulled away. Wiped her face, brisk and efficient. Evan was reminded of how she had sworn him to secrecy last September when he and Connor finally got together. When Connor wasn’t well, and Zoe had cried and told Evan he was never allowed to speak of it. He recalled being alarmed by how suddenly and tidily Zoe had packed away her emotions.

It was so much worse now. 

So much fucking worse. 

She laughed slightly then. 

“What?” Evan said. 

“Connor… he’s been here since Tuesday.” 

“Yeah.”

“He’s… growing a fucking beard.” Zoe giggled sort of hysterically. “He’s… he looks ridiculous. Like he’s growing fucking… chin mold.” 

Evan burst out laughing. “Oh my god.”

“He looks…” Zoe was wheezing now, laughing harder and harder. “He looks so fucking stupid!”

Evan laughed too, because he didn’t know what else to do. He just laughed. He laughed and laughed. And laughed. 

Until he was crying. 

Until Zoe was too. 

“He’s been here since Tuesday,” She sobbed. “Since fucking Tuesday.”

“I know. I know. I know, Zoe,” Evan said, rubbing slow circles on her back. “I know.”


	13. TWELVE

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> “Do you think he can hear us?”

Andi’s dad is… not what Connor expected. 

Dr. Kenneth Whitten is shorter than Connor by at least a foot, and almost as pale. He shows up in a three-piece tweed suit with a bowtie, neatly combed hair and thick glasses that are almost comically large. Connor gets the impression that if you looked up what a physicist is supposed to look like in a dictionary, you would find a picture of this guy. 

Then when Connor extends a hand to shake, Dr. Whitten pulls him into a bone-crushing hug and removes any doubt that he’s related to Andi. 

“It’s so nice to finally meet you, Connor,” says Dr. Whitten. “Andromeda has nothing but lovely things to say about you.”

Considering what an asshole he knows he used to be before he died and died and died, he’s a little surprised. Then again, Andi has always had a soft spot for him. 

Blind spot. Soft spot. 

Same fucking thing. 

“It’s nice to meet you too, Dr. Whitten.”

“Please, call me Kenny.”

Connor is absolutely not going to do that. 

Dr. Whitten wanders over to the wall and looks at it with interest. “This is extraordinary,” he says, sounding genuinely excited about what he’s reading. “A first-hand account of an alternate reality, that’s incredible.” He turns to Andi. “Now, you said we’re looking at something akin to the ‘daughter universe’ theory.”

Andi blinks. “I did?” 

“From what you’ve told me, to Connor, this is an alternate universe created from the changing of one event,” Dr. Whitten clarifies. “Namely, Connor’s boyfriend Evan dying.”

Connor feels sick. 

“Other than this one incident, everything else that this incident doesn’t affect should be constant. The same as the universe you’re from,” he continues. “Of course, there’s a ripple effect, but the effects should be… contained. To the people involved. Yourself, anyone else close to Evan.”

Connor thinks of Sabrina, showing up to his apartment drunk, yelling that it was his fault. 

“Yeah,” he says, a little weakly. “I, uh… apart from… things are happening like they… I don’t know, I’m trying to remember what happened and go along with it and not, like, change everything, but it was…” 

Connor blinks. Takes a deep breath. 

Tries to focus. 

“All of what I remember from the first time was with Evan,” he says after a moment. “And he’s gone and I… it’s… I can’t tell what’s… I’m sorry.”

“There’s nothing for you to be sorry about,” Andi says fiercely. She wraps an arm around him and pulls him into one of her bone-crushing hugs. “None of this is your fault.”

“What if it is, though?” Connor can’t help but ask. “This shit doesn’t just happen to everyone, right? There’s gotta be some reason that it’s happening to me. And to Evan. Did I… fuck, is there some kind of… am I just a completely fucked up person and the universe is punishing me or something?”

“You can’t think that,” Andi says immediately. 

Dr. Whitten looks thoughtful. “I can’t explain it,” he says, his voice even. “But I’m fairly certain that it’s not a question of morality. Did you read the paper I sent Andromeda? The scientist who wrote it… his theory is that there are infinite universes being created all the time, based on every possible decision we as humans make. Some decisions create universes that only differ slightly, but some create universes where the effects are much stronger, like in your case.” 

“I read it, yeah,” Connor says. He’d had to use a dictionary for almost every second fucking word, but he’d read it. “So, like, he thinks the whole death loop thing and alternate universes are connected, right?”

“That’s his theory,” says Dr. Whitten. He looks at Connor and tilts his head a little. “What did you think he was trying to say about the connection between the death loops and alternate universes?” 

It’s such a fucking college professor question that Connor almost laughs. He looks at Andi, who grins at him, then back at Dr. Whitten. 

“If I understand it correctly,” he begins, “which I might not, since I was an English major, not anything scientific, what he’s suggesting is that sometimes, there’s an alternate reality created that’s… rejected by the universe? Or something? And it’s because someone made a decision. So his theory is that the person involved will keep dying and dying and dying, over and over again, until they get to the right reality.”

Dr. Whitten nods. “That’s what he’s suggesting. What do you think about that?”

“I mean, maybe?” Connor says, shrugging. “But, like, what if it’s not just one person who’s dying and dying and dying? It wasn’t with me and Evan. And what about Jenny? She died and died and died and stopped dying when she met me. And nothing’s really happened to her since, but I’m still stuck here. Does that mean that the universe has pulled her into my bullshit? How is that fair? We barely knew each other before this.”

“Again, I don’t believe there’s any kind of… moral aspect,” says Dr. Whitten, frowning a little. “As for someone unconnected being forced into a death loop to aide in another person’s reality… well, it’s an interesting angle to consider.” His expression brightens considerably. “Would you like to meet the author of the paper?”

Andi’s eyes light up. “He might be able to help get Connor back home. Do you know him?”

“We run in similar academic circles,” says Dr. Whitten with a nod and a smile. “I’m sure that he’d be interested in talking to someone with similar experiences to his own, even if only for research purposes.”

“No offence, but I have zero interest in helping some guy write a paper,” Connor says frankly. “I just want to get back to where I belong.” 

“And I’m sure we can let him know that,” says Andi, her voice soothing. “It can be like… you scratch my back, I’ll scratch yours, right?”

“Right,” says Connor, a little unsure. 

He’s not… against providing someone with information for research purposes, not exactly, but this is his life he’s talking about, not some theoretical bullshit. 

Then again, if this guy has died and died and died, then maybe he’ll understand. 

Maybe he can help. 

Maybe Connor can get back where he belongs. 

* * *

Evan was finally allowed to see Connor around an hour after he arrived at the hospital. He and Zoe went into the room together, and Evan felt his stomach flip uncomfortably. 

She wasn’t wrong. About the beard. Connor looked really fucking ridiculous. It made them both laugh and then feel guilty for laughing and then laugh more. Evan privately wondered if hospitals had an in with the people who produced Kleenex because they went through so many. 

Connor’s eyes were closed. He had bags under them which made no fucking sense, seeing as he had been unconscious for days. Days and days. 

Evan worried about why he looked so tired. What sort of battles he might be fighting. Alone. 

Evan hated that he might be fighting anything alone. He hated it. 

Zoe showed Evan some cards that had showed up since he had last visited. “Maureen dropped them off. People have been coming by the bookstore.”

Evan inspected the cards. Most of them were silly, get well soon cards. A few had literary themes. “People know?” He asked, his voice rough. 

Zoe nodded. “Maureen and Jax and Leslie put something on facebook and instagram. I guess people were worried because Edgar hasn’t been himself?”

Evan nodded. He saw there were cards from names he knew - Mariah at his office, and Mr. Nachman, Martha and Gladys’s lawyer, and the girl with the blue hair and the fluffy dog and her partner. 

People cared. 

Of course people cared. 

It was… nice to see that people cared. Cared enough to send cards and fold origami flowers. People cared because Connor was the sort of person who people cared about. 

Connor had some new tubes today. New tubes. Zoe explained that they were feeding him via an IV.

His fingernails looked a bit too long, Evan noticed. And the polish was chipping. Which felt ironic, as it wasn’t like Connor had been using his hands over the past few days. Evan dropped a kiss on Connor’s knuckles. 

“Do you think he can hear us?” Evan asked suddenly. “Do you think he… heard us joking about his moldy looking beard?”

She shrugged. “I don’t… I’m not sure. The science has conflicting evidence about whether or not comatose people can hear you.” Zoe raked a hand through her hair. “I don’t know. I don’t even know. What fucking use is my fucking psychology degree?” 

“Don’t do that to yourself,” Evan said softly. “You can’t… you can’t know the answer to something that medical science can’t decide just because I want to know.”

“I hope he heard us,” Zoe said. “Maybe he’ll get annoyed enough to wake up.”

Evan nodded. He turned back to look at Connor. Eyes still closed. Chest still steadily rising and falling. He looked like he was… sleeping. Tired and sick and not right, but sleeping. Like last September, when Connor’s brain was being a huge dick. 

Evan had hated that. Hated feeling so helpless and pathetic and unable to help. 

This was worse. 

He’d take last September over today anyday. Every day. 

He’d take September over this in a heartbeat. 

This was… unbearable. The waiting. The uncertainty. 

Unbearable. 

Evan wanted to stay overnight but Larry Murphy returned, looking irritable, around eleven o’clock and said he would be staying. 

Zoe and Evan exchanged a look. 

“Is that a good idea?” Evan asked, crossing his arms over his chest. Zoe shot him a look, but Evan didn’t really care about tact. 

“I’m a grown man. I think I can decide if I’m going to stay overnight in my son’s hospital room.”

Zoe looked like she might laugh. Evan didn’t know what to do or say. “This is perfect,” Zoe said. “Maybe you’ll piss him off enough that he’ll wake up.”

“Don’t take that tone with me,” Larry said dismissively.

“Don’t treat me like a fucking child,” Zoe snapped. “All week, you and mom have just ignored me, ignored everything I’ve had to say. It’s bullshit. This whole thing is bullshit!” 

“Zoe -” Larry tried. 

“It is bullshit,” Evan said, looking at Larry hard. “Zoe and Connor are close. They’re important to each other. You should… you’re just arguing with Cynthia and not listening to anything Zoe has to say. You should listen to her.”

Larry opened his mouth. Then shut it. 

Then opened it again. He frowned. “I’m staying here tonight,” He said. “And that is final.”

“Idiot,” Zoe said, shaking her head. “I’m going home. I’m exhausted.”

“I’ll walk you out,” Evan said. 

“They won’t let you back in,” Larry said. “It’s after visiting hours.”

Evan ignored him. “I’ll walk you out, Zoe.”


	14. THIRTEEN

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> "I don’t know what to do. I’m scared and I… I need to be fine.”

On April 13th, Evan’s 27th birthday, Connor doesn’t get out of bed. 

It’s a Saturday, so he’s not rostered on at work. Garrett is supposed to be working and had asked Connor if he’d cover his shift, but Connor had said no, then asked Leslie if she wouldn’t mind. 

Because Connor’s the manager at The Little Book Nook now and scheduling shifts is his responsibility. 

He still doesn’t know if he’s made the right choice, taking Gladys up on her offer, but at least it gives him less time to sit around feeling sorry for himself and something to do. He’s still got way too much time on his hands, but he’s trying to fill it by reading everything he can get his hands on written by Dr. Weekes, who’d written the paper that Andi had pulled out of her bra on the day he got out of the psych ward.

Dr. Joshua Weekes, according to his Wikipedia page, is forty-two years old and was born in Norfolk, Virginia. He has a PhD in quantum physics, which he completed at Princeton, and there is a whole section on his Wikipedia page about the various members of the scientific community who think he’s batshit crazy. 

Which is so fun. 

Still, Connor’s going to give this guy the benefit of the doubt, because what he’s describing in various essays about death loops, is… pretty on point. 

_ My experience with death loops and those of others I have spoken to who have experienced similar phenomenon has led me to believe that while the number of loops may differ, all Death Loop experiences feature two important components: a starting point, where all subsequent loops begin, and an inciting incident, namely the first death. While I was initially unaware of both the starting point and the inciting incident of my loops, both became apparent by the initial loop’s completion. My first death occurred at approximately quarter to ten in the evening, after I inadvertently ran a red light and crashed headfirst into an oncoming vehicle, allowing me to later pinpoint this as the inciting incident. Immediately after dying, I opened my eyes to find myself a bathroom cubicle around the corner from my office at exactly 6.27pm. This starting point of 6.27pm in this same bathroom cubicle remained constant throughout fifty-three loops, though the first death was only repeated a total of eight times. I have included a chart (Appendix H) listing out all fifty-three of my deaths, with approximate times of death and the cause, when easily identifiable (see Section iv for further details on unexplainable causes of death).  _

After reading through Appendix H, Connor’s really, really fucking glad he never got bit on the dick by a snake, though he still doesn’t understand how the fuck that happened. 

He’s totally going to ask this Dr. Weekes dude when he’s next in New York. 

Which is, apparently, end of May or early June. 

Super fucking useful for planning purposes, but apparently this asshole doesn’t care that Connor is literally stuck in an alternate reality while fuck knows what happens to him in the reality he’s supposed to be in and refuses to change any of his plans, which have him fully booked on some kind of tour until then. 

Still, Dr. Weekes apparently has some kind of theory about how to get Connor back, though he won’t tell him any details. 

Also, apparently Connor’s going to have to sign some sort of waiver that says that he’s going into this of sound mind and takes responsibility for whatever happens to him and excuses Dr. Weekes from any blame if whatever it is they’re going to try kills him. 

Which is so encouraging. 

Connor’s trying to stay positive about all of this, and for the most part, he can. As long as he stays busy, tries to get on with things at the bookstore and learns as much as he can about parallel universes and multiverse theory and a bunch of other things that make his head spin, the heavy weight in his heart at the knowledge that he lives in a universe that doesn’t have Evan in it is almost bearable. 

Almost. 

Today, it’s not. 

Today, it’s too much, and all he can do is stay in bed and try to sleep. 

This bed is less comfortable than he remembers, which is probably because he bought it for dirt cheap on Craigslist. 

In his reality, Andi’s turned this bed into some kind of art installation project. 

Connor’s mom bought him a new bed when he moved into the apartment above the bookstore, with a brand new mattress, and it was ridiculously comfortable. 

Connor remembers he and Evan breaking in the new bed, drunk on alcoholic milkshakes in the middle of the day. 

He remembers the night before where they literally broke this bed he’s currently in. 

Fuck. 

Fuck. 

He’d been so fucking stupid. So fucking stupid, not realizing that the way he felt about Evan wasn’t just friendship, wasn’t just fondness, it was so, so, so much more. 

Looking back, Connor can see that the way he felt about Evan hadn’t ever really changed. The realization about how he felt had hit him like a ton of bricks one hot summer evening, after seeing the way Gladys and Martha interacted and realizing how fucking familiar it was. After seeing how much they loved each other and his brain catching up to his heart and going “oh, that’s what this is”. 

That’s what love is. 

Connor hasn’t been in love before Evan. 

If the worst happens and he can’t get back home, he doesn’t think he’ll ever fall in love with anyone else. 

He couldn’t. He just…

He physically couldn’t. 

Maybe he could try to move on. Try to keep living, try to carve out a life in this reality. He might meet someone and it might be okay, it might be something that keeps him busy, keeps him occupied, keeps his mind off things for a while, but it’ll never be the same. 

If he can’t get home, he’s just…

It’ll always be like this. 

This heavy weight in his chest, this deep, dark well of sadness that just won’t budge. 

Won’t shake. 

Connor dozes on and off throughout the day, and in his dreams he sees Evan. 

Evan, looking like he can’t decide whether to punch Connor or kiss him as Connor steals his phone and tells him he’s found a restaurant that only sells scrambled eggs. 

Evan, in a suit that’s really working for him, leaning against the counter at The Little Book Nook while a pimply teenager plays the banjo at an open mic. 

Evan, with his eyes dark and burning, telling Connor that he loves him as he presses hot kisses down his neck. 

Evan, on the roof of his apartment building, letting Connor talk him down, letting Connor lead him back down the stairs and out onto the street, where it had started to snow. 

Evan. 

Always Evan. 

Connor had covered Garrett’s shift back in the real reality, he remembers. Evan had spent the whole day with him, at the bookstore, sitting in the sunshine spot. It hadn’t been long since they’d died and died and died when Connor turned 27 and they’d been afraid that Evan’s birthday might trigger it, might make it start all over again, so…

He hadn’t wanted to let Evan out of his sight. 

Hadn’t wanted him to be alone. 

Fuck. 

Connor never wants Evan to be alone. 

He wishes he were with him. 

He always wishes he were with him, but now it’s even more important, because…

What about his Evan?

The Evan who’s alive?

The Evan who loves him?

What if…

What if whatever it is that caused the loops, that connected them, has connected them now, and something terrifying is happening to Evan?

Something terrifying is happening, and Connor’s not there?

What if he’s stuck in another reality, all alone?

What if he’s hurt?

What if he’s stuck in another loop, dying over and over and over again, only this time Connor’s not fucking there?

What if he’s…

What if he’s dead?

What if Evan dying in this universe killed the Evan in his universe, killed all Evans, because he wasn’t supposed to die, he wasn’t supposed to jump off the roof, it wasn’t supposed to happen. 

Sabrina was right. It’s Connor’s fault. 

He didn’t stop him. 

He didn’t stop him he didn’t fucking stop him and now…

Evan’s dead. 

He could be dead everywhere. 

He could…

Connor feels cold and shaky, dizzy and confused, and he wrenches himself out of bed and heads to the bathroom, where he pukes and pukes and pukes for what feels like hours. 

It takes him a moment to realize that someone’s stroking his hair, rubbing his back, telling him that everything’s okay. 

It takes him an even longer moment to realize that person is Zoe. 

Connor pulls away from the toilet shakily. He wipes his mouth. 

“What are you doing here?” he asks, his voice equally shaky.

Zoe’s face is pale. “I know what today is,” she says, sounding pained. “I… I was friends with him on Facebook, I didn’t even realize, I…”

Connor bursts into tears. 

He hasn’t showered and he’s probably gross and sweaty and disgusting and he’s just been puking so he definitely smells terrible and he’s crying, these big, ugly, gasping sobs, and Zoe pulls him into a hug anyway. 

She feels… safe. 

Zoe gives great hugs, he remembers now. 

It’s so stupid that he hasn’t had a hug from Zoe in months. 

Years, in this reality. 

“I…”

He doesn’t know what to say. 

He misses Evan. His Evan. 

He misses his Zoe, even though there’s one right now hugging him. 

Zoe rubs his back soothingly. “You loved him, didn’t you?”

“I did.” Connor clears his throat. “I do. I think I… I always will.”

“I’m so sorry, Connor. I’m so fucking sorry.”

* * *

Evan called his mom. It was late and he was tired and sitting in a hospital waiting room, alone, because his boyfriend’s father had taken his place in that room and he didn’t know what he was supposed to do with himself. 

So even though it was late, Evan called his mother. 

She picked up immediately, “Are you alright?”

Evan sighed. “Sabrina called you,” He said, knowing immediately that it was the case. He closed his eyes, frustrated. 

“Baby I’m really worried about you,” His mom said. “She said that… you were talking about dying last night?”

Evan wanted to hang up and go to Sabrina and Graham’s apartment and shout at her until the sun came up. But that wasn’t helpful. Evan shook his head. “Sabrina and I got drunk… I just. I freaked out. I swear, I’m fine,” Evan said, chewing idly at one of his cuticles. “I’m fine. I just shouldn’t drink gin.”

“Evan…” His mom said. 

“Mom. I am… I’m fine.”

“Your boyfriend is in a coma,” His mom’s voice said, and he noticed it was shaky, wobbly, unsure. “You’re not fine, baby. You’re not.”

Evan took a shuddering breath. “I have to be fine. I can’t… I can’t fall apart on him now. I can’t.”

“Sweetheart,” His mom said. 

“Mama, he’s… He’s not there. He’s not in there and. It was supposed to be a routine thing. It was supposed to be no big deal. But he was. He was saying nonsense before he went in, he was talking about… Facebook saying I was dead and-and speaking Hebrew. And he didn’t wake up. He’s not waking up… I don’t know what to do. I’m scared and I… I need to be fine.”

“Hebrew?” His mom said, sounding confused. 

“Alav ha-shalom,” Evan said softly. 

“Oh,” his mom said. She sounded upset. Really upset. “Oh sweetheart that’s… You’re sure that’s what he said?”

Evan’s eyes stung with tears. “Yeah. I’m sure. I know… I know that’s what he said.” He felt sick. “And then he didn’t wake up. He didn’t wake up…” Evan felt himself start to shake. 

“That sounds really horrible. Really scary and horrible, baby, I’m so so sorry.”

Evan swallowed hard. “What if he doesn’t ever wake up, mama?”

“Sweetheart,” His mom said softly. “I’m so sorry this is happening.”

“What if he doesn’t wake up?” He repeated. “I don’t know what… I love him.”

“I know sweetheart. I know.” 

“I need him to wake up. I  _ need _ him to wake up.”

“I know honey. I know. I’m so sorry.” 

Evan cleared his throat. He wiped his eyes. “Mama, I don’t… What do I do?”

His mom sighed. “I… Honey. I don’t know. I’m so sorry. I don’t… I wish I knew what to say. I wish I had an answer for you… I’m so sorry.” 

Evan sniffed. “I’m sorry. I’m sorry.”

“It’s not your fault baby. It’s not your fault at all,” His mom’s soft voice said. 

Evan didn’t believe her. He didn’t believe her one bit. 

This was his fault. It was. Because he was the one who had died, had killed himself. He was the one who caused them to loop and loop, he was the reason they had found themselves in that fucked up bizarre situation, and that was why now Connor was in a coma. He was in a coma and it was because Evan had fucked everything up. Connor would be fine if Evan hadn’t screwed up everything. 

So he didn’t believe her. He couldn’t believe her. 

But his mom kept talking. She just kept talking, her voice gentle, soothing. Evan unwound, a little. And it took a few minutes for Evan’s ears to actually latch onto what she was saying. 

She was praying. 

They weren’t super religious Jews. They kept kosher and tried to do the high holy days, but not as much since he was a kid. They didn’t go to synagogue often and it wasn’t like Evan had a Shabbat dinner once a week. 

But his mom was praying. She was praying and Evan was listening and his Hebrew was pretty rusty these days, but he knew this one. Familiar and comforting. 

A prayer for the sick. 

Evan just listened to his mom’s voice, until his tears dried up, until his heart calmed down, until he felt safe enough to hang up. 


	15. FOURTEEN

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> "We’re not there yet, okay? We’re not there yet. It’s only been a week.”

It just keeps going. 

Time just… keeps going. 

Every morning when he wakes up, Connor still hopes that maybe, maybe he’ll be home. He’ll be in a hospital bed, having just had his appendix out, and this will have all been some kind of intense, long and terrifying dream. 

He hopes he’ll open his eyes and see Evan at his bedside, looking relieved to see him awake. Zoe will be with him, and maybe his mom. 

If he had emergency surgery, someone will have definitely told his mom, and she’s loaded, so she’ll definitely have flown in. 

He’ll apologize for worrying them, then he’ll get to go home, and they’ll fuss over him way more than necessary and he’ll let them, because he’ll just be so fucking glad to see them, after this. 

Whatever this is. 

Sure, there’s a theory this is an alternate reality, and it seems right, but Connor doesn’t know if he can be sure. 

Doesn’t know if he can be sure of anything. 

Still, he…

He keeps going. 

He goes to work, tries not to yell at Garrett when he’s being a dick. Tries to remember that this Leslie isn’t one of his best friends, she’s someone he barely knows. He tries to remember what he does and doesn’t know about her, what he’s supposed to know, and ends up just… asking a lot of getting to know you questions, just so he doesn’t trip himself up as much. 

He sees lots and lots of photos of Strudel the basset hound, who is still adorable. 

In the weekends, Connor reads. A lot. A lot more than he’s had time for in the last few months, given how busy his life in the real world has been. 

Part of him feels selfish reading. 

Reading has always been a comfort to him, and how can he be letting himself take comfort in reading when he’s in a universe where Evan’s dead?

How can he?

Most of what he’s reading is about parallel universes, so he can at least say he’s researching. Leslie makes a joke about how she didn’t know he was so into science-fiction, and Connor manages not to reply that he’d really rather that his whole fucking life wasn’t science-fiction. 

He’d much rather be reading something else. 

He does read other things, though. 

He rereads books he liked from his undergrad, books that meant something to him. He reads a lot of poetry, a lot of short stories, things that can grasp his attention for a little while, because it’s harder to lose himself in a book these days. 

He remembers how Evan had told him he hadn’t read for fun since college and how appalled Connor had been about it. 

Remembers how Evan liked to tease him about his reading habits. 

_ “I like books.” _

_ “You don’t like books, you  _ live _ for books.” _

Remembers nights spent talking about books, staying up too late. How Evan would borrow something from Connor’s bookshelf when he visited and how Connor would have to ask him about it, have to ask what he thought, because Evan always had something insightful to say, something interesting, something intelligent. 

He liked that about Evan. 

One of the many, many things he liked about Evan. 

Likes about Evan. 

It’s scary just how easy it is to think about Evan in the past tense. 

It’s scary just how easy it is to fixate on the fact that in this universe, he’s dead, without stopping to remember that in the real reality, Evan’s probably fine. 

He’s probably fine. 

Connor hopes he’s fine. 

Connor hopes he’s okay. 

Hopes he’s safe. 

Connor hates that he’s left Evan, hates the idea that Evan might be missing him, that Connor has no way of knowing what’s happened in the real reality. 

Maybe no time has passed at all and when he gets back, it’ll be like he was never gone. 

Fuck, Connor hopes so. 

Because April is coming to an end, he’s nearly been here for two months, and if it’s been two months in the real world, too, then…

He can’t be sure if Evan’s okay. 

If Evan’s holding it together. 

Connor isn’t even sure  _ he’s  _ holding it together. 

He’s just…

He’s just going. 

He just keeps on going. 

* * *

Evan went back to work on Tuesday. 

For all of his complicated feelings about Zoe going back that Monday, Evan couldn’t sit on his hands and watch Connor breathe for any more hours. He spent all day on Monday just sitting there, useless, watching. Watching and watching Connor’s chest rise and fall. He was practically watching Connor’s weak attempt at a beard grow in; it was horrible. Evan couldn’t clock another twelve straight hours watching him breathe or he’d crack completely. His brain would split open and spew his garbage like pinata candies. 

And worse than just watching Connor breathe was listening to Larry and Cynthia Murphy argue constantly. Evan found himself falling back into a long-forgotten “mom-and-dad-are-fighting” pattern, intentionally blocking out their voices, refusing to intake the information flying around him violently. It seemed that Larry and Cynthia had lost their sense of embarrassment about fighting in front of Connor’s boyfriend. Evan sort of wished they’d gain that back, return to the hushed arguments in the hallway rather than shouting at each other over Connor’s prone body about whether or not moving him was a wise idea, or if the doctors had stopped doing their jobs as effectively since Larry had threatened a lawsuit. 

Evan just sat there, ignoring it. Looking at Connor’s face. His hair was starting to look a bit greasy. It had been nearly a week since the last time he’d washed it. Evan wondered if it would be weird to ask if he could do that. Wash Connor’s hair. Connor would hate it, of course, but he might feel better once he woke up if he was clean. 

Last September, when Connor hadn’t been doing well, he always said that showers made him feel less like a “skeleton hobo,” which was such a Connor way of describing his mental health that Evan had to kiss him, he had to, just kiss his cheeks and forehead and mouth and tell him how much he loved him. 

Evan hated looking at Connor like this. 

He hated trying to ignore Larry and Cynthia. After twelve hours stuck with the two of them, Evan was on the verge of a nervous breakdown or murdering Larry and Cynthia with his bare hands, so he went and found Alex and grabbed dinner with her in the cafeteria. They ate rubbery turkey and lumpy potatoes and Alex narrated her day to Evan, who was barely following. She’d stitched some people up. Alex had gotten to see Mattie perform a solo c-section that morning. She was doing some research on people in prolonged, unexplained comas…

“You’re way too nice to me,” Evan said suddenly. 

“No?” Alex said, shaking her head. “I’m not.”

“You took care of me when I was a drunk mess this weekend. And that’s not the first time you’ve had to.”

Alex grabbed his hand. “Dude. You’re kind of my brother, you know? Of course I’m gonna look out for you.” She sipped her coffee. “Besides, if there was ever a time to be a drunken mess, it’s now.”

Evan nodded. 

Then went and stared at Connor breathing until visiting hours ended. 

He couldn’t take it anymore. 

So he went back to work on Tuesday. Because he needed structure. He called Marcia to explain why he’d missed his last session and reschedule. He went to the bookstore to hang with Edgar and pick his meds back up. 

He’d missed nearly a week of them. No wonder he felt like hell. 

There was a voice in the back of Evan’s mind that told him he didn’t deserve to feel better. He didn’t deserve the meds. 

Evan tried not to dwell on it. 

Being off for a few days did mean he had plenty to do on office time. But he clocked out promptly at 5:30 and headed to the hospital daily. He couldn’t risk losing out on his precious time with Connor. 

Watching him breathe. Watching his chest rise and fall and rise again. 

When he showed up on Wednesday, Connor’s beard or… beard in progress was gone. His hair was clean. Cynthia explained that a nurse had taken care of it. 

“They took his nail polish off,” Zoe said, sounding annoyed. 

Evan nodded, also annoyed. He took Connor’s hand and resumed his vigil. 

On Thursday, Evan arrived to see that Jax and Zoe were in the middle of painting Connor’s fingernails. “Heteronormativity isn’t winning on my watch,” Jax said with a smile. 

“Hell yeah,” Evan said unenthusiastically as he took his chair again. 

“I’m not actually that good at this,” Zoe said, almost pensively. “Or maybe it’s because I’ve never painted the nails of someone unconscious before.”

Larry walked in not long after, observing the operation with apprehension. Cynthia was conspicuously absent. Zoe had said they’d had an especially bad argument the night before, one that ended with Cynthia in tears and her dad looking inches from having a heart attack. 

“What’s going on?” He asked, his voice oddly hesitant. Evan was still trying to work out how he’d overruled the three at a time visitor rule. 

“We’re railing against the hetero-patriarchy,” Zoe said, swiping a clear top coat onto Connor’s thumbnail. 

“Ah,” Larry said blandly. “Evan… come talk to me for a moment?”

Evan got out of his chair and followed Larry out into the waiting area on the floor. Evan still wasn’t used to seeing him out of a suit, but today was especially jarring because  _ Evan  _ was in one and Larry wasn’t. It felt off balance, unnatural. Strange. 

Evan watched Larry cautiously for a few moments before he finally asked what Larry wanted. 

“I… You handled all of the contracts for the bookstore.”

Evan tensed. “I did.”

“Does... “ Larry cleared his throat awkwardly. “Does Connor have a will?”

Evan felt his heart drop into his stomach. “Yes.”

Larry frowned and then nodded. 

“Everything goes to Zoe,” Evan said, remembering suddenly. His throat felt dry, uncomfortable. 

Larry stared. 

Evan cleared his throat. “I… I told him to set it up. When he bought the bookstore. I didn’t want to… to have him leave anything to chance.”

Connor’s father nodded. “Does… I assume you. You’re. Thorough. You must have… established power of attorney?”

Evan nodded numbly, feeling sort of sick, recalling their last conversation, when Evan had snapped at Larry for not listening to Zoe about anything. He felt stupid for not thinking of it sooner. He’d drawn up the will. What was the matter with him? How could have forgotten? “Yes,” He said at length. “Zoe. Zoe has power of attorney. If… if he’s incapacitated.” He looked down at his feet. “Why?”

“Cynthia and I are… Well. We’ve been. Disagreeing. On how best to move forward.” He cleared his throat.

“Yeah, no shit,” Evan said, rolling his eyes. 

Larry almost smiled. “Does Zoe… does she know? That she’s the one who he designated to make medical decisions?”

“Connor said he talked to her… but I’m not sure.”

“I’ll obviously need to see a copy of the will to confirm.”

Evan’s heart was going to jump out of his chest. “Of course.”

“Thank you,” Larry said, his tone… courteous. Almost sincere. 

“Why?” Evan asked again, suddenly terrified. “Are you still arguing with Cynthia about moving him?”

Larry put his hands into his pockets, shaking his head. “He… Connor has been in a coma for a  _ week _ . It… We need to be realistic. We need to think about the best plan for… moving forward.”

“Meaning?”

“He’s probably not going to wake up. We might need to start thinking about -”

“No,” Evan said, something horrifying and cold and dark grabbing hold inside of him. Larry was talking about letting Connor die. “No.”

“He -”

“No! He’s still breathing on his own,” Evan pushed on, ignoring him. “The scans still show normal brain activity. They’re going to… the doctors will figure this out.”

“It’s been a week.”

“No,” Evan repeated, louder. “You… No. It’s only been a week. That’s not. We’re not there yet, okay? We’re not there yet. It’s only been a week.”

Larry looked like he might argue but thought better of it. “I’ll need a copy of the will.”

“Fine,” Evan said, “But Zoe’s power of attorney. She’ll agree with me. You know she will.”


	16. FIFTEEN

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> "I just want to make sure it’s me they remember."

It’s an ordinary day near the end of April and Connor’s working in the stock room. Leslie’s out front, and he hears the bell over the door go off, then a voice he can’t immediately place. 

“I’m sorry to bother you. I’m looking for Connor?”

He heads out of the stock room and onto the shop floor, then immediately stops in his tracks as he recognizes who’s asking after him. 

It’s Heidi Hansen. 

It’s Evan’s mom. 

She’s in jeans and a sweater and boots and her hair is loose around her shoulders, blonde heavily streaked with gray, and she looks so much older than the last time he saw her. 

The way she’s walking, the way she’s carrying herself…

It’s like there’s a weight on her, dragging her down, like she’s carrying something heavy and it’s taking every single ounce of energy she has not to let it crush her. 

Connor knows that weight. 

Knows what it is that she’s carrying. 

Because this is the universe where Evan Hansen killed himself. 

“Hi,” he says, realizing that they haven’t met in this universe. That he could be anyone. “I’m Connor.” 

She offers him a smile, a smile that doesn’t reach her eyes. “I know this is weird, I…”

“You’re Evan’s mom,” he says quietly as he gets closer to her. “I’ve seen photos, I… I recognize you. I’m so sorry for your loss, Ms. Hansen.”

“Call me Heidi,” she says, her smile getting more and more wobbly. She looks around, sniffs, then kind of shrugs. “Is there… is there someone we could talk?”

Connor turns to Leslie, whose eyes are wide and a little concerned. “Do you mind if I take an early lunch?”

Leslie shakes her head. “Not at all, take all the time you need.”

Connor nods, thanks her, then motions for Heidi to follow him out of the building and around the corner to a diner he and Evan have eaten at so many times he’d lost count. It’s not the diner where they didn’t die, but it’s a good diner, and this conversation is going to be painful enough as it is that they should have… something to distract them. 

The host seats them in the back, and they order coffee, and don’t really talk until their coffees arrive. Heidi grabs onto the cup, holding onto it for dear life, like it’s the only thing that’s getting her through. 

Connor’s chest hurts. 

Aches. 

“How did you…” Connor begins. Stops. Starts again. “I, uh… Evan told me he hadn’t told you about us? So, I just… I’m wondering how…” He stops again. Clears his throat. “I’m not… I didn’t… because you didn’t know me, I didn’t know if I should…”

He’s not making any fucking sense, he knows. 

This isn’t the first time he’s thought about Heidi. 

About the Heidi in this universe. 

He’s thought about calling her. Finding her number somehow and calling her, checking on her to see if she’s okay, if she needs anything, if there’s anything he can do to help. 

But she doesn’t know him. 

She doesn’t know him, they’re not… they don’t have any kind of relationship here. 

In the real reality, Connor would consider Heidi a friend. 

That’s weird, maybe, to consider your boyfriend’s mom a friend, but it’s not that weird, really, considering that Connor also considers a pair of elderly lesbians friends. 

He likes Heidi. A lot. He thinks she’s strong and caring and he admires that she tries, she just keeps trying. Life dealt her a shitty hand and she did her best, did her best by Evan, and it…

Connor knows that in some ways, it wasn’t enough. 

That Evan needed… more than Heidi could give, needed her to be around more. 

She hadn’t had a choice. She’d had to work to keep them afloat, had to struggle and fight and keep the lights on and food on the table and…

Connor knows how much it hurt Evan, it hurt him that his mom wasn’t really around, but he also knows that Evan feels guilty for pushing her away.

For leaving for college and cutting her out of his life. 

Connor knows that things between Evan and his mom have been better since the loops. That they’ve mended their relationship, slowly but surely, and that things have been better. 

But this Heidi…

Fuck. 

She never got the chance. 

“Sabrina said that Evan was… seeing someone,” Heidi says, her voice careful. “She said she’d talked to you. Told me your name and where you worked. That you went to high school with the two of them.” She frowns a little. “She didn’t… it was a short conversation. She said I should know.”

“Right,” says Connor, nodding. He tries to figure out how to say this. “Sabrina and I… she didn’t know that Evan and I were… she didn’t believe me, at first. She was…” He shakes his head. “That doesn’t matter.” He looks at Heidi, trying to figure out what to do. “I’m so fucking sorry. I… I  _ swear _ I tried, I…”

“He didn’t tell me about you,” Heidi says after a moment. “I… I don’t know why he didn’t, I… he knew I was worried that he was alone, he… he could have told me there was someone, he didn’t even…”

Connor closes his eyes tightly.

Opens them again, hoping that he’ll be somewhere else. 

He’s not. 

He’s still at a diner with a version of Heidi Hansen who’s lost her son, her son who means everything to her, and she’s trying to figure out where Connor fits in. 

Connor doesn’t fit in. Not here. 

This isn’t his universe. 

“He wanted to keep it casual,” Connor says finally. “No strings, he kept saying. We… we hung out, we…” He sighs. Tries to figure out how to explain. “He wouldn’t even stay the night. No matter how late it was, he’d just… go home, rather than stay. He… he held himself back, I can see that now, I…” Connor swallows. Blinks again. 

He’s still here when he opens his eyes. 

“I knew he wasn’t okay,” Connor ventures, his voice wobbling. “I tried? To talk to him, to get him to… talk to someone, maybe? I, uh…” He takes in a deep breath. “I don’t know what Sabrina said to you, I don’t, but you should know I… I tried to kill myself in high school.”

Heidi’s eyes widen. She grips the coffee cup tighter. “I’m so sorry-”

He rushes to explain. To try to make sense of anything Sabrina had said, to make it seem like he’s not a total monster. “I didn’t know Evan then, not really, only vaguely, but… we talked? About that? So he knew, and he knew that I’d… gotten help. The right drugs, a therapist. It’s been hard, but I’m… I’m okay? I guess I… I told him, because I wanted him to know that it  _ could _ be okay. That it could… get better.”

Connor’s full of shit. 

He knows he’s full of shit. 

None of this happened in this reality, he’s fabricating wildly, but…

These aren’t outright lies. 

Not really. 

There’s truth here, nuggets of truth, and maybe it’ll give Heidi some kind of hope, hope that in Evan’s last months on earth, he had someone who understood. 

Even if it didn’t matter in the end. 

None of it mattered, because Connor couldn’t save him. 

It’s not until Heidi hands him a napkin that he realizes he’s crying. 

“Connor, I’m so sorry.”

Connor lets out a shaky laugh. “Why are you apologizing? You didn’t... you have nothing to apologize for.”

Heidi’s eyes are big and sad and dangerously watery. “You lost him too. I’m sorry I didn’t know.”

Connor wipes his face. Shrugs. Holds onto his coffee cup. “It’s not the same,” he tries to explain. “I… it’s not the same as how you must be feeling, fuck, this is so selfish of me, what the fuck-”

“It’s not selfish,” Heidi insists. “It’s not, I…” She lets out a shaky laugh. “Fuck, I’ve spent the last few months just… so fucking angry at everything. At myself, at… at Sabrina, at Evan.” She swallows. “I’m so angry at him for leaving me, and I know how fucked up that is but… mostly I’m angry at myself. I could have stopped him, I could have been there, I could have not let him push me away-”

“He really loves you,” Connor can’t help but say, because he knows that this is true in every single universe. “He loves you so fucking much? He… he talks about you a lot, about how you’re brave and strong and… he loves you.” 

Heidi’s eyes fill with tears. “He barely talked to me.”

“He loved you.”

Heidi lets out this choking laugh. Sniffs. 

Connor can’t help himself. “He’s buried back home, right?” Heidi looks at him, eyes wide. “There’s a Jewish cemetery there. I… he said something about… wanting to be buried in a Jewish cemetery, because it was… it was important to you.”

Heidi blinks, tears spilling down her cheeks. She nods. “That’s what it said in his… in his will.”

Connor manages to stop himself from telling Heidi that he knows. 

He knows, because Evan had told him, back when he’d made Connor write a will of his own. 

Fuck. 

Fuck. 

Connor hands Heidi a napkin. She grabs his hand instead. 

“Can I… can we stay in touch?” she asks, her voice a little desperate. “I… I just need… talking to someone who knew him and loved him, it helps. Makes me feel like he’s still here.” She sniffs. “I know he’s not and it’s probably not healthy, I just… I need to pretend. Just a little.” 

Connor thinks his heart is actually breaking, physically separating into a million pieces. “Yeah,” he says after a moment. “We can stay in touch.”

* * *

Evan needed to have a conversation with Zoe about Larry asking about Connor’s will. He knew he needed to talk to her. 

But he was sort of sick over a line in the will. A line he himself had helped to write. His memory kept repeating and repeating a conversation Evan and Connor had, back when they were drawing all of the legal paperwork up, the first November they knew each other. 

They were both having a drink, and Connor kept rolling his eyes. “I do not need a will. Just. I’ll write ‘delete my browser history’ on something and you can notarize it, okay?”

Evan shook his head. “Yeah, today, sure. But in less than a year you’re going to own property. A business. You need to indicate what happens to that or else the bookstore and the building could end up in legal limbo. Your parents aren’t together, so there’s no guarantee that they would be able to divide up the assets equitably.”

“You’re kind of a buzzkill,” Connor said. “You’re so practical.”

Evan felt his face heat up. “We’ve literally died, Connor. This year.”

Connor rolled his eyes. “Fine, fine, you can write me a will. Just… give everything to Zoe. She should get to decide what happens to the store and stuff, you know? She gets that it’s… important.” 

Evan typed that into the document he was working off of, indicating all of Connor’s assets and property should be given to Zoe in the event of his death. 

“Any specifications for a funeral?” Evan asked, still typing. 

Connor laughed. “Yeah. There ought to be a bagpiper and an indifferent penguin.” 

Evan stared. 

“Like that picture of the guy in Antarctica?” 

Evan still didn’t follow. 

“Do you even go on the internet?” Connor teased, smiling. He immediately pulled up the photo and showed it to Evan. 

Evan cracked a smile but refused to put “indifferent penguin” into a legally binding document. “Absolutely not.”

Connor stuck his tongue out at Evan. He put on a pale impression of a serious face. “Fine, fine. Just recreate the ‘Helena’ video by My Chemical Romance with my corpse.” 

“Connor, seriously,” Evan said, his eyebrows up. 

Connor rolled his eyes. “I’m twenty-seven. I don’t care. It’s not gonna… ” He cleared his throat. “I mean. As long as…”

“I want to be buried in a Jewish cemetery,” Evan volunteered when Connor didn’t continue. “Not because I care a lot but… that would make my mom happy. So that’s in mine.” He looked up from the screen to look at Connor. “Do you want… like a mass or?”

“God no,” Connor said, taking a big drink of his whisky. “I dunno. I just want something… short and not too fucking depressing?” 

Evan nodded. 

“Like… I just want to make sure it’s me they remember, you know? Me in all my fucked up, mentally ill, gay bookworm glory. I don’t want someone else’s funeral. I don’t want my parents to, like… throw a funeral for the son they wish they had.” 

Evan felt compelled to reach his hand out and take Connor’s then. “Okay.”

“So. I dunno. Put something about that in there.”

Evan nodded, and he started typing. “Uh… just a few more. I know this is pretty. Like. It’s kind of heavy.”

“Don’t worry about it,” Connor said in a tone that absolutely made Evan worry. “Bring it on.”

“Uh… do you want to indicate someone who has power of attorney in the case that you’re incapacitated?” Evan asked, looking briefly up at Connor. 

Connor blinked. “Wouldn’t that be you? Since you’re, like, my attorney?”

He shook his head. “Usually that’s like… a family member or something. Someone you trust to carry out your wishes or whatever? I’m not sure… I mean we’re only friends, I don’t -” He feared if he said any more, Evan would let on how he felt about Connor. He’d let on how in love with Connor he was and ruin everything. He cleared his throat. “I’m not sure you’d want me making life or death decisions about you.”

“Zoe then,” Connor said decisively. 

Evan typed that up. “And uh. If you’re incapacitated… do you want extraordinary measures taken?”

“What does that mean, exactly?” 

Evan shrugged. “Like if something happened to you where you couldn’t make choices for yourself, would you want someone to tell the doctors to do everything they could? Even if the things they did might cause harm or reduce quality of life.” 

“Oh,” Connor looked thoughtful. “Huh. I guess, sure.” He took another drink. “What do people normally say? Or whatever?” 

Evan looked up at him, “I mean, I don’t exactly do a lot of wills. I did my own, but… I dunno, normally there’s clauses for different catastrophic circumstances. Some folks have stuff about, like, in the event of brain death, they want to be allowed to die. Or that they don’t want to be resuscitated more than four times.” 

“I don’t know what to even put there,” Connor said. 

Evan smiled a little, “It’s like… do you want long term palliative care if you get so sick or injured that you can’t advocate for yourself? Or, like, would you want someone keeping you on a ventilator if you can’t breathe on your own?”

Connor wrinkled his nose. It was adorable. 

“Basically, I’m asking if you want someone to unplug you in the event that you’re a vegetable.” Evan took a drink. “Is that not the sort of fun and casual conversation you wanted to have tonight?”

Connor shook his head aggressively, laughing. “Fuck no. And to answer your question: No extraordinary measures. If I’m dying, let me go. Could you imagine what that might mean if I started to loop again? Horrible. Absolutely not. No extraordinary measures. Make sure Zoe knows that. Just… unplug me.”

Evan nodded, writing that in. 

And now he was sitting here, wondering if he could… fuck with a signed and dated legal document. To remove that clause. To unmake that choice for Connor. 

Not that it was a real concern. He was breathing on his own. His brain still worked. He was just… unconscious. All that would happen if they unplugged him was that his heart monitor wouldn’t beep. 

Evan was being stupid. 

But he kept putting off talking to Zoe about the will. About Larry asking about the will. 


	17. SIXTEEN

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> "I refuse to be the girl who has to pull the plug on her brother."

“So I was thinking of writing a book,” says Jenny from her spot on Connor and Andi’s sofa. “About the whole constantly dying thing.”

“Not an academic paper?” Connor says with a roll of his eyes. 

“It’s been done,” says Jenny dismissively. “Obviously.” She takes a brownie from the huge pile that Andi’s made, puts the whole thing in her mouth, then continues. “Aawfik tylb rulnntrytig.”

“What?”

Jenny swallows. “I think it’ll be really interesting.”

“There’s pot in those,” Andi says when she sees Jenny reach for another brownie.

“Perfect,” says Jenny, and eats another three in a row. 

Connor goes over and grabs a brownie, then goes back to the wall, where he’s adding various theories from Dr. Weekes’ papers to the ever-growing list. 

“Did you ever fall down a manhole?” asks Jenny, sounding distracted. 

Connor snorts. “Maaaaaanhole.” He turns to look at Jenny, who just seems confused. “Sorry, that’s a… dumb joke with Evan. Yeah, we both did.”

“So did Dr. Weekes,” Jenny adds. “Maybe that’s some kind of universal constant.”

Connor snorts again. “The universally constant maaaaaanhole.”

“Oh my fucking  _ god _ .”

Jenny gets up, looks at the wall. Takes it all in. 

It’s… honestly, it’s starting to look like the ramblings of a crazy person. Multiple crazy people, given the combination of different handwriting. There’s Andi’s loopy cursive, full of unnecessary embellishments, and Jenny’s blocky all caps. Then there’s his own handwriting, which Evan always teases him is way neater than he expected. 

“You have really neat handwriting,” he’d said once when they were going through the paperwork to set up The Little Book Nook, sounding genuinely surprised. 

“Thank you?” Connor had replied, a little confused. 

Evan chuckled. “I’m just saying. You’re so, like, cool and punk rock, I’d expect you to have, like, kind of messy, devil-may-care handwriting.”

Connor raised his eyebrows. “Devil-may-care?”

“Whatever,” said Evan dismissively. “You get my point though. I just… didn’t think you’d have such neat handwriting.”

“I feel like you’re making fun of me,” Connor had said, still finding the whole thing weird. 

Evan’s eyes had widened. “I swear I’m not,” he’d said, something in his voice softening. “I just… it’s nice.” He’d smiled, this soft smile that Connor hadn’t known at the time, hadn’t recognized then, but knows so well now. “It’s really… beautiful.”

Connor remembers wanting to kiss him then. 

He should have kissed him then. 

“Connor?”

He turns to see Jenny looking at him. 

“What?”

Jenny sighs. “I was just asking if you remember what Evan’s starting point was.”

“Bathroom,” he says immediately. “He’d… he’d been throwing up. He always came back to looking at his face in the mirror, having just thrown up.” He frowns. “He… his loop started right in the middle of him taking the bar. So he took the second half of the bar exam, like, a gazillion times.”

Jenny looks thoughtful. “My starting point was the bathroom, too. So was yours, so was Dr. Weekes’... do you think there’s a reason for that?”

Connor blinks. “Not really?”

Jenny tilts her head. “It could be… I don’t know, maybe there’s some symbolism there.

Connor rolls his eyes. “Symbolism. Sure. Okay.” He sighs. “It’s symbolic that this whole situation is shit.”

Jenny laughs. “Preaching to the choir, my friend. Preaching to the fucking choir.”

* * *

Connor had been in a coma for a week and three days when Evan remembered that Charles and Asher were getting married the next weekend. That he was supposed to be a groomsman in the wedding of two of his close friends. Honestly, if Mariah hadn’t been bitching about her tux rental being a hassle, Evan probably would have completely forgotten. 

“Oh god,” He said to her at lunch. “I completely… I forgot about the wedding.”

Mariah looked sympathetic. “You’ve had a lot going on.”

“I… I don’t…” Evan looked around helplessly. “How the fuck am I supposed to go to a wedding and, like, take a million photos and party when -” 

He couldn’t finish. 

When Connor was in a coma.

When Connor might not even be alive by the time the wedding rolled around. 

“I can’t… I can’t,” He said, feeling like he was choking, feeling like he was drowning. “I don’t think I can stand up in a wedding right now.”

Mariah grabbed his hand. “They’ll understand. If Asher was in your position? He wouldn’t have gotten off the couch in weeks. Remember how broken up he was when his cat had to to have that bladder surgery? He would be a complete mess if this was Charles in a coma. They’ll understand.”

Evan nodded. “I… I appreciate you saying that like I’m  _ not  _ a complete mess.”

She patted his hand. “Go talk to them. They’ll understand.”

And they did. He told both of them over lunch, sitting in Charles’s new office. He’d been promoted a few months back.

Asher pulled Evan into a tight hug when he explained why he had to drop out, and then he genuinely teared up which Evan… didn’t know what to do with. He just. Patted Asher’s shoulder awkwardly. Charles insisted that Evan still come to the wedding if things weren’t improved by that time. “I understand if standing up is too much for you, but I want you there. We want you there.”

Evan said he would do his very best. 

And then Asher gave Evan a small crocheted cactus. 

“What’s this?”

“Well, I wanted to give you a cactus to give Connor… since he brought you a desk cactus, and I thought he’d like one. But then I remembered most ICUs won’t let you have plants so… I found it on Etsy -”

“It was my dumb suggestion,” Charles said, “We used to call Connor your cactus guy and Asher thought it might make you laugh, shit-”

Evan hugged Asher tightly. He had never been so grateful to have this guy as a friend. He hugged Charles too, his heart feeling a lot warmer than it had in weeks. “Thank you. That’s so kind. Thank you.”

“I hope he wakes up soon,” Asher said, sounding genuine. “I really really hope he does.”

Evan nodded. “Me too.”

Evan felt utterly useless at work that week. He stared at his phone all of the time. He spaced out in the middle of important meetings. He couldn’t focus. Evan had a court appearance, and he realized half way through it that he was just going through the motions. He was just operating on autopilot. He was half a person at best. He wasn’t even there. 

Evan wasn’t there. 

Jonathan dropped by Evan’s office on Friday evening. To “check in” he said. 

“Am I fired?” Evan asked, his voice dull and flat. 

“No!” Jonathan looked surprised. “No, you’re… Look. I know Larry.”

“I know you do.”

“He’s filing a lawsuit against the hospital -”

“I know,” Evan said shortly. “I helped with… with a few details.”

“Hansen, I… I didn’t realize how bad things were,” Jonathan said, sounding almost… embarrassed. “You. You qualify for personal and family leave. If you need time -”

“I’d rather be working,” Evan said honestly. “I can’t keep sitting there. I can’t just… I can’t just watch him, day in and out. It’s killing me.”

Jonathan nodded. “Okay. Well. If anything changes?”

“I’ll let you know,” Evan said. He cleared his throat awkwardly. “Thank you, Jonathan.”

Jonathan gave Evan a pale smile. “My husband was in a car wreck. Massive internal bleeding. He had brain surgery… He was in a coma for three weeks,” He volunteered suddenly. “Ten years ago now? He wasn’t even my husband then. He… It’s difficult. When you’re not technically family.”

Evan felt his breath catch. He was caught off guard. By surprise. “Yes, sir. It is.”

“After my husband woke up, we drove to Boston and got married.” He offered Evan a strange smile. 

Evan nodded. “Thank you, sir.”

* * *

Even though Connor still hasn’t managed to get the guy to pin down an actual time and date for his visit to New York, Dr. Weekes continues to stay in touch. His emails are either short with absolutely zero punctuation or big long paragraphs that run on and make very little sense unless you read them over a few times. 

It’s frustrating as all fuck. 

Connor’s starting to get the impression that this guy is a bit of an asshole. 

Still, he keeps up correspondence. Answers the doctor’s questions and indulges his rants, because in between the bullshit, there’s stuff that… kind of makes sense. 

_ Hi Connor you should take a good look and see if you can find any evidence of changes you have made to your body in the last two years that you remember did you get any tattoos or any injuries that would have left scars the theory is that you are in the body of your 27 y/o self so anything you have done since then shouldnt be there if you cant find any changes you know you have made then this proves it i am sure that it is your consciousness that is from another reality not your body so you should check for evidence pls email when you have done this _

_ Dr Joshua Weekes, PhD _

Connor can actually answer this straight away. A few weeks after the death loops, Andi had given him a tattoo of a melting clock on his shoulder. He’d kind of handwaved the explanation, but he’d wanted something to kind of…

Commemorate is the wrong word. More like know that something about him had changed, since he’d died and died and died. 

That he’d changed. 

That there was a physical reminder of… change, after dying and dying and dying, over and over again. 

He remembers when Evan had first noticed it. 

It was when they’d first decided to give the whole fuck buddies thing a try, early on in their friendship with benefits. They were at Connor’s place, having just had sex, and Connor had just caught his breath and had managed to stop himself from throwing his arm around Evan to pull him close because Evan had said then that he didn’t like cuddling. 

Then he’d felt Evan’s fingers, lightly tracing the lines of the tattoo on his shoulder. 

He’d stayed still and closed his eyes, letting Evan touch it. Feeling the weight of his fingertips, ghosting over his skin. 

“How long have you had this one?”

“A month?” Connor guessed. “A month and a half? Andi did it, a few weeks after… a few weeks after.”

“Right,” Evan had said, his fingers still moving, slowly but surely, sending shivers through Connor’s whole body. “Right, that makes sense.”

“Do you like it?” Connor asked, half-joking, half-serious, because while it didn’t really matter in the long run, he’d… wanted Evan to like it. For some strange reason. 

“I do,” Evan had assured him, his fingers still moving maddeningly slowly, and Connor remembers being powerless to move, almost hypnotized by the motion, the feeling that something important was happening. 

They’d stayed that way for what felt like a long time. 

“I just wanted… to see it,” Connor had confessed, his voice barely above a whisper. “You know? To see that… I’m not the same as I was when we were dying and dying and dying. I don’t… I don’t  _ feel _ the same and I wanted to… to see it.”

“Yeah,” Evan had replied, in that same hushed, whispered tone. “I get it.” He laughed a little, still tracing the edges of the clock, over and over. “I couldn’t… I don’t think I’m brave enough for a tattoo. Not really.”

“They’re not for everyone,” Connor said, watching as Evan’s fingers moved. “Doesn’t mean you’re not brave, though.”

Evan had looked at him, this hard to read expression. “I’m not brave,” he’d said, his voice so, so quiet. 

Connor had reached out then and taken his hand. Squeezed it lightly. “Sure you are,” he’d replied, trying to make sure the words had the weight they required. “You’re still here, aren’t you?"

* * *

Evan arrived at the hospital at around the time Zoe did. She was standing in the hall, on the telephone, saying quietly, “I know Stephanie, I’m glad you called.” She paused. “I know.” Another pause. “Have a good night.” She looked at Evan. “Sorry, one of my clients is having a hard time.” 

Evan nodded. “How come we’re in the hall?”

“The staff was giving Connor a sponge bath,” She said. “I figured there were some things a sister shouldn’t see.”

“Oh,” Evan said, feeling something twist weirdly in his chest. Connor needing to be cared for like that. Connor being a patient, like that. His mom used to be the person to give old people that kind of care, to give people sponge baths, to handle their bodies when they no longer could. He cleared his throat, trying not to think about it. “My coworkers gave me a little fake cactus for Connor?” He said, holding it up. 

“Cute,” Zoe said with a smile that didn’t quite reach her eyes. 

“Is it weird that I feel a way about someone else seeing Connor naked?”

Zoe laughed. “If it helps, it was a woman in her forties.”

“It doesn’t,” Evan said, almost laughing. 

They were allowed back into the room as the nurse’s aid was pulling on Connor’s new hospital gown. Evan briefly got a glimpse at the tattoo on Connor’s shoulder of a melting clock, the one he told Evan he had gotten right after the loops ended… and Evan suddenly felt like crying. 

Zoe sighed, sinking into her usual chair. 

Because she had a usual chair. 

Evan sucked in a deep breath as he sat in the chair beside her. “I need to… I need to talk to you about something.”

Zoe’s eyes went wide. “Did something happen?”

Evan sighed. “Your dad asked me the other day… whether or not Connor had a will.”

Zoe’s brow furrowed. “What?” She let out a nervous sounding laugh. “Well that’s… I mean I know he’s all responsible now, but that’s… Connor wouldn’t…” She cleared her throat. “Does he. Have a will?”

Evan nodded. “I helped him draw it up? When he was buying the bookstore? Just… just in case something happened.” He went into his bag, pulling out the copy he had. He gave it to Zoe. “He… Connor named you power of attorney. In case medical decisions needed to be made and he was… unable to make them for himself.”

Zoe looked horrified. “What?” She took a ragged breath. “I… Don’t you have to notify someone if that…?”

Evan shook his head.

“What the fuck?” She said, looking at Connor with something unreadable in her eyes. 

“I… Your parents can’t agree on anything when it comes to what to do about Connor,” Evan said gently. “But legally speaking, Connor wanted you to make those choices.”

“So… so my dad can’t, like, move him unless I say it’s okay?” Zoe said, looking over the document. “I’d have to sign off on it?”

“Yeah.”

“Why… why didn’t he name you? To decide that?” Zoe asked, looking confused. “You’re his partner…”

“We weren’t together when we drew this up,” Evan said. 

“So? You were obsessed with each other from the jump,” Zoe said. “You’re… It shouldn’t be me. I don’t want it. It should be you.”

Evan shook his head. “It’s… I can’t, Zoe. I don’t have any rights here. It’s… You have a signed directive.”

Zoe just looked at Connor for a long time. Then she started to page through the rest of the document, her face setting into something more grim. “He… this says no extraordinary measures. There’s… there’s end of life care that specifically says he doesn’t want to be in a coma.”

“I… I know,” Evan said. 

“But he’s still breathing on his own,” Zoe said. “He’s not… This isn’t technically end of life care. Right?”

Evan sighed. “I would argue that, yeah.”

“Okay,” Zoe said, sucking in a breath. “Okay okay okay.” She looked directly at Connor. “You better wake up, asshole, because I refuse to be the girl who has to pull the plug on her brother, okay? So. You better wake the fuck up.”


	18. SEVENTEEN

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> "I’m really sorry. I’m just a guy with a shitty life."

“Okay, so, be honest,” Connor says one morning in early May when he finds Jenny waking up on their couch at 8 in the morning. “Do you actually have an apartment of your own at the moment, or have you moved in?”

“I have an apartment,” Jenny says, a little defensively. “But it’s tried to kill me, like, a gazillion times, so… I feel safer here.”

Connor motions for her to follow him into the kitchen and makes them both coffee. “I get that,” he says carefully. “I really do. But at some point, you are going to have to get your life back to normal. And that means actually living in your own apartment.”

“You’re just pissed off that I used the hot water in the weekend,” says Jenny dismissively, helping herself to a slice of bread Andi had made the night before, slathering it with copious raspberry jam.

“Well, yeah, I’m not thrilled about cold showers,” Connor admits. “But that’s not what I’m saying.”

Jenny bites her lip. Squares her shoulders, like she’s about to argue. “I’m doing my best,” she says stubbornly. “I’m going to work.”

“You got a new job,” he points out. “You quit your job at that Chinese restaurant because you burned to death after accidentally falling into a flaming wok full of sweet and sour pork.”

“Fine,” she says, crossing her arms. “But if you’d died at work, you’d be right there with me.”

Connor, who did not, in fact, ever die at work, kind of sees her point. “Okay. I just…” He sighs. “I’m… trying to get home,” he says, his voice careful.

Jenny looks at him like he’s spectacularly stupid. “I know that, Connor.”

“So what happens when I do?” he asks her. “I don’t know what happens to the me that exists in this universe. I don’t know any of it. But I do know that I won’t know you.”

Jenny blinks a few times. “You knew me before, though,” she says, her voice a little wobbly. 

“I knew  _ of _ you,” he corrects. “But we weren’t close or anything.”

Jenny’s eyes are wide. “You’re… you’re the only person I can talk to about this,” she says, her voice shaking even more. “You’re the only person who understands.”

“You can talk to Andi,” Connor points out. He’s starting to feel like a complete asshole for bringing this up in the first place.

“It didn’t happen to her, though.”

“But she knows about it,” Connor says, as gently as he can. “And I… I don’t know if I died. In this universe. So I… if I go home, that means you and Andi might end up with the me that lives in this universe. The me who doesn’t know about any of this.”

Jenny frowns. “I…” She opens her mouth. Closes it. “I don’t…”

“You don’t want me to go.”

“I want you to get home,” Jenny says immediately. “I do. Of course I fucking do. I just… I didn’t think about it that way.” Her eyes start to well up dangerously. “I’ll miss you.”

Connor winces. “I’m not trying to be a dick,” he says quickly. “I just… I worry that you’re relying on me too much.” He hands her a cup of coffee, then takes one of his own. “I worry that I’m relying on you too much,” he adds quietly. “I… I’m not… I don’t want to fuck up your life, Jenny. I like you. You’re my friend. But you’re here and I… I don’t belong in this universe. I don’t. I need to get back to my life.”

Jenny looks at him, an expression he can’t quite place on her face. “What if you can’t?” she says slowly. “If you can’t get home, then… what would you do?”

“I’m going home,” he says immediately. “I don’t care how long it takes, I don’t care what I have to do, I’m going back to where I belong. I’m not… I can’t stay here.”

Jenny’s quiet for a moment. “I do want you to get home,” she says, softer this time. “But I… I’m going to really fucking miss you, okay?”

“I’ll miss you too,” Connor says, because it’s true. 

He’ll miss Jenny. He knows he will. 

In his reality, he doesn’t really know Jenny. She’ll be a stranger, and that’s…

That’s hard. 

That sucks. 

But if it comes down to a choice between being friends with Jenny or getting back to Evan, Connor will choose Evan every time. 

Every single fucking time. 

* * *

Evan kept putting stuff off. 

Like getting a refill on his meds. He still had a week’s worth left, but he had been spotty about remembering to take them. 

Like returning any of Sabrina’s calls… She had called him once a day since they’d gotten drunk together on the roof, and Evan was dodging her by inventing court dates and not answering. He texted her every few days so she didn’t just show up at his place again, but he never called. Hearing her voice would put him on edge, make him more likely to lash out at her. 

It wasn’t Sabrina’s fault that Evan was such a mess but she made for a decent scapegoat, and he knew that about himself. Best to avoid her for the time being. 

He put off staying at his place as much as he could, instead spending most nights at Connor’s apartment curled up with Edgar Allan Paw. Edgar seemed especially down these days. He never wanted to play anymore when Evan visited. 

Evan was also putting off a rather pushy associate from the Law Offices of McLaren, Hunt, and Simon, because after the fishing waste win, Richard McLaren had apparently gotten it into his head that he needed Evan to come and work for him. 

Which… 

No fucking way. 

Not even if they made him a millionaire. Not even if they paid off all of his debts. 

Unless a contract offer included a binding guarantee that his boyfriend would wake up from his coma which seemed to have no medical reason behind it, Evan wasn’t even going to bother taking a call from Richard’s office. 

But perhaps the worst thing that Evan had been putting off was therapy. Evan had been putting it off, but Zoe gently suggested he talk to Marcia about the Connor Situation, and Evan… Listened.

He didn’t want to but. He didn’t need her to waste energy worrying about him too. Not when she had Connor to worry about. And her parents constantly fighting. She had more than enough to worry about.

So he went to therapy. 

And immediately knew he didn’t want to be there. That maybe he shouldn’t be there, because his chances of being thrown into a psych ward had gone up dramatically since the last time he was in Marcia office. 

Marcia looked at Evan sadly as it all poured out of him. The complications the coma the Hebrew mumblings, Larry and Cynthia fighting, his mom praying, Zoe being beside herself with worry that she’d have to actually act on her position as power of attorney. The McLaren offers, what had happened when Evan had interned for Richard, how Connor had had an affair with him… 

“Evan, that is… that would be a lot for someone who didn’t have your struggles.”

Yeah. No fucking shit. 

“No wonder you’re having a difficult time coping.”

Evan swallowed hard and nodded.

Marcia fixed him with a serious look. “Have you had thoughts of hurting yourself?”

He swallowed. “Yes.”

“Do you want to hurt yourself?”

He nodded. “Sometimes.”

“Do you have a plan to hurt yourself?”

He struggled to find his voice. “I… no.” 

Marcia waited. 

“Well, I mean. Not... really. I’ve thought about, like. Stepping in front of a subway train right as one pulls up to the platform or, like, taking all of my Valium at once but… Nothing concrete or serious. Nothing real. Not like last time.”

“So you have means?” Marcia looked very, very worried. “What I’m hearing you say is that you have potential plans and means to do harm to yourself.”

“No! No that’s… You’re not listening. I’m not, like. I won’t do that.”

She didn’t look convinced. 

“I can’t kill myself,” Evan said. “It would destroy Connor if I killed myself.”

Marcia wore a painful-looking smile, “And what if Connor isn’t around?”

“What do you mean?”

“If he dies,” Marcia said. 

“He’s not going to die,” Evan said stubbornly 

“He might,” Marcia said. “And it might be… appropriate to try to prepare yourself for that possibility.” 

“No,” Evan barked, getting to his feet. “I don’t. Because… Because it’s not happening. He’s going to wake up -”

“Evan, if Connor doesn’t pull out of this, I have an ethical and moral obligation to make sure you are safe and -”

“No. Fuck you for saying that,” Evan said, pointing a shaking finger at Marcia. “He is not going to die.”

“Evan -”

“No, no! Fuck you. You don’t get to say that. You don’t get to decide when I have to prepare myself or-or any of that. He’s going to make it. And even if - Even if he doesn’t, my shit is no longer your concern. You’re fired. Obviously.” He stormed from her office, breathing heavily. 

Suddenly he felt extremely unsure of himself. What to do with his hands, how to carry himself, how to breathe or what to think. 

He’d fired Marcia. His therapist. The only therapist he’d ever successfully worked with and that left him feeling unsteady, unstable. 

Connor, his rock, his safe person, his protector, was lost somewhere inside of himself with no indications that he was going to return. 

Evan was lost. 

He didn’t know what to do. 

But he did know what he was not going to do. 

He was not going to sit around and fucking prepare for the love of his life to be dead. Evan refused to do that. He refused. 

In his daze of angrily stomping around Manhattan, Evan found himself on the front steps of Tipsy McStagger’s. He hadn’t been, not in a while. It was their place. It felt wrong to go without Connor.

But Evan needed a drink. Or twenty. He needed to… erase that conversation with Marcia from the front of his mind. 

He headed inside and bought himself a whisky, because that was what Connor liked and Evan missed Connor a lot. He missed him so much, all of the time. 

He had several ... Several whiskeys. He had whiskey and a lot of it, until the gnawing, aching, terrified feeling inside of him started to go away. Until a sort of calm settled over him, a reassuring blankness. 

When the bar closed, Evan walked home. He thought about calling a Lyft for the short ride, because they’d done that for safety during the loops, but he decided fuck safety. He decided fuck everything. He walked and smoked and walked and smoked some more. 

“Hey man.”

Evan whipped around. 

Otis was standing under a streetlight. The backpack slung over his shoulders was the one Evan and Connor had bought for him during the winter. On his feet, Evan recognized the combat boots too. 

“You… you probably don’t remember this,” Otis said, his voice extremely hesitant and soft. “But I. You and this long-haired guy? You really helped me out this winter? And I… I’m getting a lot better now. So I just. I wanted to say thank you. I knew you lived nearby but I hadn’t seen you around…” He scratched the back of his head awkwardly. “I have a place to stay now? And uh. I got a job at a bodega. It’s third shift and the pay sucks but it’s better than busking for quarters.”

Evan stared at him in utter shock. 

“I know that, like. Most people don’t do that kinda thing and that really helped. Like with the clothes and socks and stuff. The… clothes and whatever? That meant a lot to me. So. Thanks.”

It was the first time anything Otis had said to him had ever made any fucking sense. “What are you?” Evan asked. “Are you… are you like? An angel or a timelord or…?”

Otis looked embarrassed. “I’m… I’m nobody. Just. A guy who, uh. Who went off his meds.”

Evan shook his head. All of the sort of… profound shit he and Connor had thought Otis had said…. He was just a homeless dude with mental health problems. “That… no,” Evan said. “Because you… you knew stuff. You knew everything.” Evan laughed, hollow and sharp and inhuman. “You knew everything. I thought that… I thought that meant something.”

Otis flinched. “Dude I… I’m sorry if I ever said something that fucked with your head. I’m really sorry. I’m just a guy with a shitty life, man.”

Evan felt the small bubble of hope inside of him deflate and shrivel a little bit more. He nodded. “Sorry I… I’m so glad to hear you’re doing better. I… that’s really great.”

“Thanks,” Otis said. “Hey uh. Your guy, with the hair? He works at, uh. The Teeny Weenie Bookstore or whatever?”

“The Little Book Nook,” Evan said. 

“I’m gonna stop by once I get my first paycheck,” Otis said, smiling triumphantly. “And I’m gonna buy a book.”

Evan tried to smile. “That’s wonderful. I… I’m excited to find out what you pick.”


	19. EIGHTEEN

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> “Take a fucking hint. I don’t want to talk to you.”

Working with Garrett is the worst. 

Just the worst. 

Not for the first time, Connor considers just… asking Gladys if he can fire him. Maybe they hire Jax early. They’re friends with Leslie, after all, and if Connor recalls correctly, they’re still in the States right now. They haven’t gone to Mexico to teach English yet. 

He probably shouldn’t. 

He really probably shouldn’t, but it’s so fucking tempting, especially when Garrett’s just being such a fucking asshole. 

It’s just after the lunch rush and Connor’s busy stacking the travel section when the bell over the door goes. He hears a familiar voice asking for him at the front desk. A voice he hasn’t heard in a long time in his reality. 

Jesus fucking Christ. 

This is the last thing he needs right now. 

He looks over, and Garrett’s pointing in his direction with a smarmy grin, and Richard is standing there with his asshole haircut and his asshole jacket, smug and secure in his overall assholery. 

Richard heads over to where Connor’s stacking books determinedly. 

Connor resists the urge to smack him in the face. 

It’s just… so much worse now. 

Now that he knows just how much of an asshole Richard is. 

He knows that Richard kissed Evan without his consent, tried to feel him up in the pantry of his kitchen, with his husband in the other room, and he knows how much that fucked Evan up. 

He remembers how after Evan told him, he’d been jumpy, twitchy, and if Connor didn’t check in before touching him, he’d freeze, go pale, look so fucking scared and Connor never, ever, ever wants to see him look like that again. 

This asshole sexually assaulted Evan. 

Evan, who means more to Connor than anyone in the fucking universe. 

Evan, who’s  _ dead _ in this universe. 

Who fucking killed himself.

And while that’s not all Richard’s fault, it sure as fuck probably didn’t help. 

“You haven’t been answering my emails,” says Richard, reaching out to touch Connor’s arm. 

“Take a fucking hint,” Connor snaps, pulling his arm away. “I don’t want to talk to you.”

Richard smiles. “We don’t have to talk, Connor. Let me take you out tonight. We could go to that hotel you liked.”

“Fuck you.”

Richard raises an eyebrow. “Was kind of hoping you would, yeah.”

“If you ever step foot in this store again, I will call the police,” Connor says, pulling his shoulders back and bringing himself up to his full height. “I don’t ever want to see you again and if you show up again, I will get a fucking restraining order, don’t think I won’t.”

Richard looks incredulous. “Like hell you will. I’m a lawyer, in case you forgot. You try to take any kind of legal action against me and I’ll eat you for breakfast.”

“My dad’s a lawyer,” Connor says immediately, and he doesn’t actually think he’s ever said those words in a way that’s supposed to mean something. “Larry Murphy, you heard of him? I hear he’s a big fucking deal around these parts.”

Richard blinks. Goes pale. “You’re Larry Murphy’s kid?”

“I am,” Connor says, and fuck it’s weird to be using his dad as some kind of leverage, but he knows enough lawyers to know what kind of language they speak. “You leave me the fuck alone or I’ll have plenty of things to say to my dad about how you treat your fucking interns, Richard.”

Richard goes even paler, if that’s even possible. “I don’t know what you’re talking about-”

“I know that you prey on young queer law students and basically blackmail them into fucking you,” Connor spits out. “It’s a fucking open secret, everyone knows you do it. You’re lucky no one’s called you on it yet but I swear to God, if you get anywhere near me ever again I will make your life a living hell.”

Richard scowls. “You don’t have any proof. You don’t know what you’re talking about.”

“All it takes is for someone to say something to someone else, and then I bet you’ll get dozens of the poor bastards coming out of the woodwork, looking to rip off a piece of you,” Connor threatens. “I’ll make that happen. I swear I will.”

Richard looks disgusted. He lets out a harsh laugh. “You’re not fucking worth it,” he sneers, then turns and leaves the bookstore as quickly as he can. 

Connor takes in a shaky breath. 

Lets it out. 

Closes his eyes. 

Hopes like hell he’ll be home when he opens them. 

“Were you serious?”

Connor opens his eyes and sees that Garrett’s standing in front of him, looking shaken. 

“Do I look fucking serious to you?” Connor snaps. 

Garrett’s eyes widen. “I… I know people who’ve interned for him, and they… they said something that sounded weird, but I didn’t…” He frowns. “That’s assault.”

“It is,” Connor agrees. 

“How do you know about it?”

Connor closes his eyes. “He tried to… my boyfriend was his intern.”

Garrett’s voice is shaky when he replies. “What happened?”

Connor opens his eyes. 

Looks straight at Garrett. 

“He fucking killed himself.”

With that, he goes back to restocking the travel section. 

* * *

Sabrina showed up at Evan’s apartment before work two weeks to the day since Connor had fallen into a coma. She showed up with bagels and coffee and a grim smile on her face. 

Evan had been in the middle of knotting his tie when the doorbell buzzed, and he let her in while he finished getting dressed. 

They stared at each other for a long long moment when she came inside. “You look like hell,” She said softly. 

“Yeah, I know,” Evan said, shrugging. 

“Have you been eating?” She asked. 

He lied and said yes. “You know I need to go to work.”

“Let me come with you,” Sabrina said. “I’m not going to, like, follow you to your office but I… I thought maybe you needed a little company.”

Evan didn’t know how to tell her that he didn’t want to see her at all. He didn’t want to see anyone, he didn’t want to see anyone but Connor but Connor was in a fucking coma.

Evan was hungover. 

He didn’t want a bagel or Sabrina’s pity coffee or to go to work. He didn’t want to do anything. All he wanted to do was to lie next to Connor. 

But Connor was in a fucking coma. 

Connor wasn’t here. 

“Maybe you could come to dinner tonight?” Sabrina asked, following Evan out of his apartment. 

Evan shook his head. 

“You can’t spend every night at the hospital, Evan.”

“I’m not,” He lied. 

Sabrina didn’t look convinced. He used to be a better liar. He used to lie to her like it was his job. He’d gotten bad at it. 

He’d gotten bad at a lot of things that were bad for him. 

Except smoking. He was still good at that. 

“Ev,” Sabrina said, grabbing his elbow. 

“I’m not,” Evan said. 

She looked at him, hard. 

“I’m… I’m going to Charles and Asher’s wedding this weekend,” Evan said, almost lamely. 

Sabrina stared at him, apparently unconvinced. 

“No. Really. I mean… I’m not standing up because, well. I know I’m like. A mess. But. I… they’re my friends. I should be there.”

“You’re going by yourself?” Sabrina asked, looking… sad. 

He nodded. “People from work will be there.”

“I’ll go with you,” Sabrina said with a sympathetic smile. 

“No,” Evan said harshly. 

“I don’t want you to be alone.”

“I’m fine,” Evan said. “I’ll be fine. People from work will be there.”

“Let me come with you,” She said. “It’ll be… we’ll have fun.”

“No offense, Sabrina, but I don’t really want to show up to a wedding with my ex-girlfriend while my boyfriend is in a coma? I’m not interested in playing pretend happy couple with you while the love of my life is unconscious in a hospital.”

Sabrina recoiled like he’d slapped her. 

“Does Graham even know you’re here?” Evan pushed. 

“Of course he does!”

“Is he okay with you being all over me again?” Evan went on. “He’s cool with you constantly checking in, hanging around, basically acting like I’m your boyfriend? He’s okay with that?”

“Ev, come on -”

“I am not your fucking boyfriend anymore, Sabrina,” He shouted, wheeling around so he was looking her dead in the eye. “I don’t need you hovering.”

“Yes you do!” She cried, her eyes flooding. “You need someone to take care of you, and if Connor’s not here to do it then… then…”

“Then what?” He spat. 

“Then I’m scared that I’m going to have two funerals to go to,” She sobbed. “I’m scared you’ll die, Evan, you already said -”

“I never said that,” He barked. “I never fucking said that.”

“You did. You did, Ev, I wouldn’t lie to you, I wouldn’t -”

“Leave me alone,” Evan said. “Leave me the fuck alone.”

“No!” Sabrina said, grabbing onto his arm. “I’m not leaving you alone, I won’t -”

“That’s not your job anymore,” Evan said, his voice quieter, softer. “It hasn’t been your job in a long time.”

“Ev-”

“Graham is a nice guy,” He went on. “He’s nice. He’s healthy and-and-and normal. He loves you. He loves you enough that he’s put up with you freaking out about me since before you even moved back here. Just… can’t you just go and be happy with that? With him?”

Sabrina looked horrified. “You are my best friend.”

“Go back to your fiance, Sabrina,” Evan said, his tone… final. “I don’t want this. I don’t want… you. Leave me alone.”

* * *

Connor’s mom visits the city for a week in May, and he’s unprepared for how it makes him feel. It’s not like she’s never visited before, in both this universe and the real one, the past and the future, but it’s different, somehow, and it hurts his heart. 

It’s just…

It reminds him of other times she’s visited, but it’s just not the same. 

His mom sits in the corner in the sunshine spot throughout an entire workday, soaking in the sunshine and reading from the huge pile of novels she’d purchased. She talks to Martha and Gladys, who both immediately recognize her as Connor’s mother and talk about how well he’s doing as a manager. 

His mom looks so proud. 

So fucking proud. 

Connor doesn’t know what to do with that. 

He doesn’t feel like he’s done anything she should be proud of. 

He’s stuck. 

He’s just stuck. 

His mom insists that the three of them go out for dinner, and they end up at this fancy restaurant, where he, Zoe and his mom all drink far, far too much wine, and Connor remembers that when his mom had visited the August after he died and died and died, just before he moved into the apartment over the bookstore, he hadn’t gone to dinner with them. 

Because he’d been with Evan. 

He’d been having sex with Evan - amazing, incredible sex because Evan had been at a conference and it had been frustrating and he’d needed to unwind, needed to get rid of some of that energy. Connor remembers the look in his eyes, the feel of Evan’s lips on his neck, his hands, his mouth…

Connor remembers  _ everything.  _

He misses him so fucking much. So much that it hurts. 

Every day, he wakes up and it hurts. 

His mom is in town for a week, from a Wednesday to a Wednesday, and Connor spends almost the entire weekend with her. She’s clearly not expecting it, and honestly, neither is he, but he’s lonely and he’s sad and he kind of just… needs something familiar. 

He follows her around department stores and secondhand bookshops and art galleries and museums, and he spends Saturday night in her hotel suite with Zoe, the three of them watching Zoolander, drinking wine and eating Chinese takeout. 

No matter what universe they’re in, his mom still has this weird obsession with Zoolander. 

“Do Blue Steel,” says Zoe to Connor, halfway through the movie, before collapsing into a fit of giggles. Connor does his best impression of the expression and his mother nearly falls off the sofa in her amusement. “That’s terrible, Connor, holy shit.”

“I can’t help it if I’m ridiculously, ridiculously good-looking,” Connor replies immediately, and Zoe hits him with a cushion from the couch. 

The three of them laugh for what feels like forever, and for a moment Connor forgets. 

Forgets that he’s stuck in a universe where Evan killed himself. 

That he’s stuck in a universe without the love of his life. 

That…

He blinks a few times and realizes that he’s crying, almost like it’s happening at a distance. 

He wipes his face distractedly. 

Huh. 

Neither his mom nor his sister say anything, not really. Zoe rests her head on his shoulder and his mom squeezes his hand. 

They order another bottle of wine from room service and finish the movie. 

On Sunday, they go out for burgers for lunch after sleeping in longer than they should have. It’s the same place they went with Evan, right after Connor moved into the apartment above the bookstore. 

It’s like the universe is trying to fucking torture him. 

They eat greasy burgers and fries and order alcoholic milkshakes and they’ve all drunk far, far too much alcohol this weekend, but Connor doesn’t care, because it’s kind of taking his mind off Evan, kind of taking his mind off this looming appointment with Dr. Weekes to see if he can get home. 

Except that it’s not. 

Because he keeps finding reminders of Evan. 

They’re everywhere. 

Fuck. 

It’s like Evan’s woven into the fabric of the city, into every part of Connor’s life. He can’t even hang out with his mom and his sister without thinking of Evan, because he knows that if this were the real reality, Evan would be right here with them. 

Evan would be here. 

Evan should be here. 

Evan should be alive. 

Connor shouldn’t be here. 

He needs to get back home. 

He needs to. 

He  _ needs _ to. 


	20. NINETEEN

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> “There’s nothing you can say that’s going to convince me not to try this.”

Cynthia was reading to Connor when Evan got there on Thursday night, with Zoe sitting beside her, a far off look in her eyes. Cynthia paused. “I thought. I’m not sure he’s gone this long without reading something since he learned to read,” She said. “He’s… he’s probably bored.”

“Bored into a coma,” Zoe joked. “That’s a new one.”

“How’s everything?” Evan asked quietly. 

“Martha brought him a blanket today,” Zoe said, indicating a beautifully crocheted throw that was spread over Connor’s legs. “And Andi brought us some brownies.” She almost smiled. “Mom had two before she realized they were hash brownies.”

Cynthia almost smiled. “So I’m high. It’s probably the best I’ve handled this situation in a week.”

Zoe looked directly at Evan. “I talked to dad. About Connor’s will.” She looked down at her hands. “He’s… He’s not happy.”

“He already knew you had power of attorney,” Evan said, shaking his head. “I told him that.”

“That’s not why,” Cynthia said quietly, her eyes going glassy. 

Evan looked to Zoe, confused. 

She grimaced. “Look. I know we’re not there yet,” Zoe said. “And I’m not saying that I think we’ll get there. Because… we need to be hopeful. We have to be. But. If we get there… The will is pretty clear that he doesn’t want to be… Kept alive by machines. He doesn’t want extraordinary measures taken. So I. If we get there, I told dad I was planning to honor Connor’s wishes.”

Evan felt sick. Like genuinely truly sick. “I… when we talked it sounded like Larry agreed with that.”

“I thought so too,” Zoe said, shaking her head. “But he… He threatened to contest the will? He. I dunno. He stormed off an hour ago.”

Evan felt sick. 

“It’s not going to come to that,” Cynthia said, shaking her head firmly. “Larry’s… He doesn’t know how to process emotions like an adult. It’s not going to come to that. The doctors say his vitals are strong and his brain is fine, so it’s not going to come to that.” She cleared her throat. “Where was I? Ah…” She picked up where she left off reading from _Harry Potter and the Sorcerer’s Stone._

Evan and Zoe just sat there listening, almost reverently, like they were afraid talking might break the spell, ruin whatever magic Cynthia might be conjuring by reading out loud to Connor. She read the first few chapters, stopping just after Harry finally got his Hogwarts letter. 

Evan was suddenly painfully reminded of Connor’s tenth birthday party. Of having a stilted, awkward conversation about Hogwarts houses and Evan admitting he was still waiting to check the book out from the library. How he and Connor had retreated to a corner to read the first few chapters of the first book together, only to separate just before everyone sang happy birthday. 

Evan had wanted so badly to stand next to Connor when he blew out the candles on his cake but… everyone always looked at the birthday person. Everyone looked and tried to guess what wish they might be making, and if Evan had stood next to Connor, people might have looked at him in his dumb, homemade costume and… 

Evan had stood by Jared. 

He should have stood by Connor. He’d wanted to. 

Fuck. 

They could have had more time together… 

But they weren’t there yet. 

They weren’t. 

When Cynthia sighed and said she couldn’t keep reading, Zoe picked up the book and continued in her place. Her voice was smooth and soft and she had this smile while she read, this sort of subtle and perfect and real smile, and Evan’s heart ached for her. Her brother was in an inexplicable coma. It wasn’t fair to her. 

Or to Cynthia. Cynthia who looked like she had aged ten years since she had first arrived the day after Connor’s appendectomy. 

Or even to Larry, who was so repressed and scared that he had flown to New York but couldn’t bear to actually be in the same space as his sick child. 

It wasn’t fair to them. To Connor’s family. 

It wasn’t fair at all. 

* * *

A few days before the end of May, there’s an email from Dr. Weekes. 

_Hi Connor I will be in New york first weekend of June a colleague has helped me secure a lab space at Columbia university i will attach directions if you dont know it and how to find the lab please plan accordingly as there will be a procedure to get you home details tbd i will tell you when you arrive for this to work it is important that you keep an open mind_

_Dr. Joshua Weekes PhD_

He shows Jenny and Andi almost immediately. Jenny looks at Connor and raises her eyebrows. “Didn’t you go to Columbia?”

“I did,” Connor says, trying to keep his voice even. 

“This guy seems like an asshole,” says Jenny flatly. 

“Details tbd?” Andi repeats, frowning. “That’s… vague. Surely he’s got something more to say than that.”

“It does say to keep an open mind,” says Jenny, and now she’s frowning. “That’s, uh…” She looks at Connor. “Are you sure this guy’s legit?”

Connor raises his hands defensively. “Hey, don’t look at me, we found him through Andi’s dad.”

Andi looks… a little concerned, but nods. “You’re right. My dad wouldn’t… I’m sure it’s fine. This isn’t exactly, like, an established scientific procedure. It’s bound to be… a little out there.”

“Exactly,” Connor says. 

Jenny still looks unsure, as does Andi, but it’s not like either of them have a say in whether or not Connor does this. No matter what happens, no matter how insane Dr. Weekes’ ideas are, if he thinks they’ll work, Connor will try it. 

He needs to get back to Evan. Back to his life, back to his reality. He’s been here for months now, and who knows what that means for his reality?

Does it mean that Evan’s been trapped in the loops for months?

Does it mean that he’s just… disappeared for months?

Is Connor dead?

Is Evan dead?

Connor can’t stand not knowing. Can’t stand not being sure. 

He can’t just keep going on like this, he needs to do something. 

Anything. 

He needs to try. 

He needs to fucking _try._

* * *

Zoe seemed to actually think it was a good idea for Evan to go to the wedding. She told him on Friday night. “I think it’s good… Go see friends. Get out of this awful room for a while.”

The room wasn’t actually all that awful, in Evan’s opinion. Not anymore. There were cards and books and Maureen’s ever-growing bouquet of origami flowers. Asher’s fake cactus. A picture of Edgar. 

Zoe herself was taking a couple of days to just… not be at the hospital. She made plans to get a massage and go see a movie by herself. See her therapist. “I just. I need a break. If I stare at him breathing anymore I’m going to crack into pieces.” She had put her hand on Evan’s shoulder. She had convinced her parents to take a night off on Friday as well, going so far as to buy them both tickets to Hamilton so they would have something to keep them occupied. The tickets were separate, of course, because Larry and Cynthia were still at each other’s throats, but Zoe had joked that Connor was probably “stubbornly refusing to wake up because our parents are driving him crazy.”

Then she had fixed Evan with a look, “You need a break too.”

“I’m… I’m going to the wedding,” He said. 

And apparently, he was going. 

He’d told two people now so it must be true. 

So he went ahead and booked his train ticket for Charles and Asher’s wedding. Confirmed his hotel reservation, the one he had made ages ago when they had asked him to stand up. Connor had requested that Evan get a room with a king-size bed and when Evan had asked him why, he had just wiggled his eyebrows suggestively and the pair of them ended up having sex right there on Connor’s sofa. 

It felt weird and inappropriate to think about sex at a time like this. 

The bookstore kids and Alex had actually managed to smuggle Edgar Allan Paw into the ICU on Friday night when Zoe and the Murphys were taking a break. They’d sneaked him past the nurses in a backpack and Alex had drawn the shades in the room so they wouldn’t be disturbed. 

“This is against like a million rules,” She muttered as Leslie and Maureen freed Edgar from the backpack and set him at the foot of Connor’s hospital bed. “I could get fired for this.”

“I’ll sue for wrongful termination if you do,” Evan reassured her. “Thank you.”

Honestly, it was heartbreaking to watch Edgar climb up Connor’s body gingerly and settle beside his shoulder and let out a mournful little meow. He kept rubbing his face against Connor’s cheek, and Evan had to look away because it was making him so sad. 

Leslie looked heartbroken. “I know it’s stupid,” She said after about fifteen minutes. “But I… I guess I thought it might wake him up or something.”

“Me too,” Jax said. Maureen was holding their hand and giving it a reassuring squeeze. “Like. Cat magic. Or something. It’s dumb.”

“It’s not,” Evan said. “He loves that cat so much.”

“Edgar misses you too, you know,” Maureen said quietly. “Every time someone in a suit comes to the store, his little ears perk up until he realizes it’s not you.”

Evan swallowed hard. Now he felt guilty for neglecting Edgar. Connor always joked that he was the cat’s other dad and… apparently absent fatherhood was genetic because Evan was doing an awful job of being there for his cat child these days. “I should… I’m sorry I haven’t been there as much. I just. It felt weird… staying there. Without Connor.”

“I know,” Leslie said. “Were you the one who handled payroll last week?” She asked. “I was going to ask Gladys for help but…”

Evan nodded. “Yeah. I.. There weren’t any issues, right?”

Leslie shook her head. “No. Thank you for taking care of that.” 

He nodded. 

Leslie looked at Evan hard. “You know… you can come by to hang out with us too,” She said. “This is a shitty time and. You need your people.”

Evan blinked, surprised. “No, I mean… You’re… That’s very kind of you to offer but I’m not... I’m not…”

“She’s saying they’re your people too, dude,” Alex stage whispered to Evan. 

“Thank you, I got that,” Evan said, almost smiling. He gave a grateful look to Maureen and Jax and Leslie. “Thank you.”

After about thirty minutes, the bookstore crew smuggled Edgar back out of the hospital room. Alex and Evan stood there, quiet, and watched as Connor breathed. 

“The cat was probably stupid,” Evan said. 

“I think Connor would have appreciated it,” Alex said, shrugging. “Remember how he brought Edgar to Thanksgiving last year?”

Evan smiled a little and nodded. 

Then he remembered that this year would have a Thanksgiving, regardless of whether Connor was around to see it. And he hated that. He hated that. 

The world shouldn’t get to just callously keep turning if Connor Murphy wasn’t a part of it. 

* * *

Connor’s never been to the science department at Columbia. Not even when he was a freshman and had to get his science requirements done. They were all in one of those massive lecture halls, not the specialist department. 

It’s weird. He hasn’t been here since he graduated, and it’s weird. He, Andi and Jenny walk through the halls, trying to find the lab that Dr. Weekes is using while he’s here. 

Connor has no idea how he managed to convince someone to let him use it, but apparently he did. 

When they get into the room, there’s what looks like a large plastic box thing in the corner, and there’s a guy in a lab coat shoveling in what looks like… salt. 

Connor is immediately concerned. He turns to Andi, whose eyes widen. 

“That’s a sensory deprivation tank,” she says, sounding a little excited. She looks at the guy in the lab coat. “Is this part of the plan? To get Connor back to his own reality?”

Seeing as they haven’t established they’re even in the right place yet, Connor feels super weird about just… saying that out loud. 

“You are Dr. Weekes, right?”

The guy looks at them. He’s younger than Connor expected. Tall. A little pudgier than his Wikipedia page made it seem. “Yeah,” he says, looking at them. “You Connor?”

“Yeah.”

“Okay, so I have to know,” says Jenny, heading toward them. “How did you get your dick bit by a snake? I’d understand that shit happening in Australia, but in Virginia? Come on, dude.”

“If I knew how a snake ended up jumping out of a toilet in Virginia to bite my dick, I’d know a lot more about the universe than I do right now.” He looks at Connor. “Okay. Right. I have paperwork for you.”

“Sure,” says Connor, who has in fact brought a pen with him for this very purpose. Dr. Weekes hands him a thick wad of paper and Connor skims over it, Andi looking over his shoulder with concern the whole time. 

No responsibility for death, dismemberment or irreversible brain trauma, yada yada yada. 

There is nothing on earth that’s going to stop Connor from signing this so he can along with whatever fucking crazy theory this guy thinks might get him home. 

Andi, however, does not seem convinced. 

“Babe, I’m not so sure about this.”

Connor signs his name in the four places it says to. “Andi. I need to get home.”

“This is… completely insane, you do realize?”

“So is dying over and over again,” he points out. “So is me being stuck in another reality.”

He hands the wad of paper to Dr. Weekes, who nods approvingly. 

“We’re almost ready,” he says. “Take off your clothes.”

Andi frowns. “I really don’t think you should-”

“Andi,” says Connor, who’s already unbuttoning his pants. “There’s nothing you can say that’s going to convince me not to try this.”

She frowns. Then looks at Dr. Weekes. “Tell me exactly what’s going to happen.”

“We’re putting Connor in a sensory deprivation tank, then giving him a strong hallucinogenic and a mild electric shock. The combination of these things should send his consciousness back to his own reality. In essence we’re just… rebooting his brain and allowing for a form of almost astral projection to occur.”

Connor takes off his socks. 

“You’re going to give him a mild electric shock?” Jenny repeats, looking skeptical. “While he’s submerged in water? I can’t see that going well.”

Connor pulls off his shirt then kind of stands there in his boxers. He looks at Dr. Weekes. “These need to go, too?”

“In a minute,” he says, sounding distracted. “You can take them off just before you climb in. First I need to inject you.”

“With what?” Andi demands. 

“Lysergic acid diethylamide.”

“LSD?” Jenny asks. “That’s not so bad. Andi, we’ve totally done LSD before.”

“It’s a higher dose than recommended,” Dr. Weekes warns. “But Connor signed the paperwork, and he wants to get home, so we’re going to try it out.”

He takes Connor’s arm and ties it off, then presses around for a vein. It’s not long before there’s a pinch, and a syringe is being emptied into his arm, and Connor starts to feel… weird. 

This is all really, really fucking weird. 

It’s kind of a blur from then. There are electrodes attached to him, then he’s being told to take off his underwear and climb into the weird pod thing. Once he’s in, they get him to lie down and it’s so fucking weird, he’s just… floating in nothing, it feels like, and he’s distantly aware that his whole dick is out, but at least it’s not being bitten by a snake and he’s been told it’s a nice dick, so it probably doesn’t matter in the long run. 

Someone’s saying something in a way that makes him think he’s being asked a question, and he says yes, in the hopes that that’s the right answer. 

He wants to get the right answer, so he can get back to Evan. 

There’s a weird noise, then everything’s dark. 

Pitch black. 

Connor closes his eyes. 

Opens them. 

Black. 

Doesn’t change, even when he blinks. 

There’s a buzzing in his ears. 

Kind of a sting. 

He feels his body move involuntarily, kind of just… kicking around, and it’s weird as fuck, this is weird, but when he opens his eyes, he thinks he sees something. 

He closes his eyes. 

Opens them again. 

Closes them. 

Opens them. 

And he’s somewhere else.


	21. TWENTY

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> "Something's different."

Evan got a good night’s sleep the night before Charles and Asher’s wedding. In his own bed. He texted with Mariah, who said that he was missed dearly at the rehearsal dinner. Apparently Asher’s cousin Mark was his replacement and a “complete toolbox.”

_“Can’t wait to see you tomorrow!”_

Evan got up at his usual time. Took himself out for breakfast at the diner near the bookstore. Not the one where he and Connor didn’t die, the one where they had their first date, because he wouldn’t go there without Connor, but the other one. He had breakfast. He went to the store and visited a little bit with Edgar and Leslie, who was behind the counter, and he even helped Gladys run the till for a little while so Leslie could take her break. 

The wedding was supposed to start at four, and Evan’s train ticket was for 1:30, so at noon Evan went home. He showered. Shaved carefully. Put a little bit of product in his hair, so it looked nice, neat. He put on his best suit. Navy, nicely tailored. Evan had spent a small fortune on it after he won the Kendra McCool case against Larry. He only wore it for special occasions. Like the wedding of two of his closest friends. 

He stared into his closet for a long while trying to decide on a tie. 

Maroon, he decided. 

Connor always liked Evan’s maroon tie. 

He liked to pull on it, pull Evan in for a kiss by the end of it. 

He knotted the tie around his throat, looking into the mirror on the back of his door. 

He looked nice. Good, even. 

Well dressed. No trace of his life being a complete trainwreck to be seen on his face or body. His overnight bag was packed, leaning against the wall. His gift had already been delivered to the venue, a real gift from their registry but also a prosecco pong set Evan and Connor had picked out after Charles and Asher had destroyed everyone at Alex and Mattie’s New Year's Eve party. 

Evan looked okay. 

He had a train to catch. 

He was supposed to go to this wedding and be happy for his friends, his friends who were in love, his friends who wanted him there. 

He had a train to catch. 

Evan walked outside. 

He had to go left to get to the train station. 

He went right. 

Right.

Right into the nearest bar. Someplace dark even at midday where he had never been before. 

“What can I get you?” The bartender asked. She was young. Pretty. 

“Whisky,” Evan said, his voice certain and smooth. “A double. Please.”

* * *

It’s bright. 

Almost painfully so. 

Bright, and soft around the edges, and things are moving in a way that’s unnatural, and there’s something in his field of vision he can’t quite figure out. 

He blinks a few times, and it gets clearer. 

It’s a hospital bed. 

A man in a hospital bed. 

A man he recognizes. 

Because it’s him. 

It’s _him._

He’s asleep. 

No, not asleep, he realizes, moving closer, almost like he’s floating. He looks down, trying to see if he can see where he is right now, but it’s like he’s not real, like he’s a ghost, an apparition. 

But it’s him. 

In a hospital bed. 

He takes in details. Dark circles under his eyes, pale skin. Paler than usual, like he hasn’t seen the sun in weeks. Thinner than he should be.

He’s hooked up to all sorts of tubes and wires, and the room feels… lived in, somehow. 

Whatever’s happening, he’s been here a while. 

Connor recognizes things. There’s a blanket over him he recognizes as one of the crocheted, handmade blankets that Martha makes sometimes, when her arthritis isn’t playing up. They’re beautiful, but time-consuming, and she’d always promised she’d make him one someday.

There are origami flowers on a table near the bed, beautifully arranged, made out of paper, and it takes him a moment to remember that Maureen likes origami, that sometimes she’d make things for the bookshop displays, sometimes he’d find her folding beautiful things when the store was quiet. There’s a small crocheted cactus on the table, too. It’s cute. 

And there are cards. So many cards, standing up like a display, like a memorial, and he can’t touch them, can’t open them, but they all say get well soon, and he looks back at himself and is hit with the sudden realization that this is what’s happened to the real him, _this_ is what’s happening. 

He’s in a coma. 

He’s in a fucking coma. 

The door opens, and Connor looks to see that someone’s walking in, and sitting in the seat next to his bed. Taking his hand and kissing the knuckles, letting out a shaky breath and hanging his head. 

His vision is hazy for a moment, but then it clears, and Connor sees that it’s Evan. 

It’s Evan. 

He’s in a nice suit. Freshly shaved, having done something to his hair... he’s dressed up way too nicely to just come visit the hospital. 

He’s wearing his maroon tie, the tie Connor has always liked.

It takes a moment for Connor to tune in to what Evan is saying. 

“I know I should be at the wedding, I know. You wouldn’t want me to miss Charles and Asher getting married, they’re my… I was supposed to stand up, for fuck’s sake, they’re my friends, I know you’d want me to… I just… I couldn’t? I had the train ticket and the hotel room booked and I… I knew someone would tell me if anything changed, I knew I could get back to you if anything changed but I couldn’t… I couldn’t go.” Evan squeezes Connor’s hand. Kisses his knuckles. “I couldn’t leave you. Even though you’re...”

His voice trails off, and Connor tries to rush toward him, tries to go to comfort him, but he’s not really here, he’s not…

This didn’t work, this hasn’t worked. 

He’s not really here, he’s not, he’s not really here, he’s…

But this is real. 

Connor knows that this is real, this is the reality where he belongs, and Evan is right there, he’s _right there_ and Connor can’t touch him, can’t talk to him, can’t do anything as Evan begins to sob quietly, so quietly, and fuck, Connor hates it, hates it so much, hates how quietly he cries, how he hides how he’s feeling, how he pulls away, how…

It takes a moment, but Connor sees Evan freeze. 

Sit up. 

Look at Connor’s body. 

“Connor?”

Fuck. Fuck. Fuck. 

“Can you hear me?” Connor says desperately. “Fuck, Evan, can you hear me? I’m here, I can’t… I don’t think you can see me, I’m not… I’m sorry, I’m so fucking sorry, I’m trying, I’m trying I swear.”

Evan squeezes Connor’s hand. “Something’s different,” he says, his voice a little urgent, and then he turns his head and he’s looking right at Connor, looking right at him, and his eyes are bloodshot and he just keeps looking at him, like he sees him. 

Like he _sees_ him. 

“Evan,” Connor tries again. “Evan.”

“Connor, are you… are you here?”

* * *

Evan went to the hospital. 

Of course he did. 

He had tried. He tried to go to the wedding, he tried, he made an effort. 

But he couldn’t do it. He just couldn’t manage it. 

So he had a drink instead. Several. Probably too many. Evan needed to just… not think about the way he was letting everyone down. He needed not to think about it. Sabrina had offered to go with him to the wedding, and he’d told her off, yelled at her that he wasn’t her boyfriend anymore. Zoe insisted he needed a break. 

But Evan couldn’t take a break, he couldn’t leave town. 

So he went to the hospital. 

Because he couldn’t breathe. 

He couldn’t breathe, thinking about leaving Connor like that. He couldn’t breathe. 

He stepped into Connor’s room, alarmed at how quiet it was without the crowd of people that were typically there. He dropped himself into the chair beside the bed. Took Connor’s hand, pressed a kiss to his knuckles. 

Evan pulled in a deep breath. Exhaled, this shivery, shaky thing. 

Evan hung his head. 

It was too much. Too hard. He couldn’t keep this up.

He couldn’t keep this in. Between the overwhelming sadness and the whisky… this wasn’t staying in.

He swallowed and started to talk to Connor. Because he missed talking to Connor, he fucking missed him so much. “I know I should be at the wedding, I know. You wouldn’t want me to miss Charles and Asher getting married, they’re my… I was supposed to stand up, for fuck’s sake, they’re my friends, I know you’d want me to…” He trailed off. Evan stopped. “I just… I couldn’t? I had the train ticket and the hotel room booked and I… I knew someone would tell me if anything changed, I knew I could get back to you if anything changed but I couldn’t… I couldn’t go.” He squeezed Connor’s hand. Kissed his knuckles again, practically a ritual by now. “I couldn’t leave you. Even though you’re...”

Even though Connor… wasn’t there. 

He wasn’t there. 

This was his body, sure, but it wasn’t _Connor._ It wasn’t. It was just a vessel, and a useless breakable one at that. And Evan was overwhelmed with anger about that. About the imperfectness of Connor’s body, how it hadn’t protected him, how it hadn’t kept him safe or well or whole or even fucking there… 

And he began to cry. 

All Evan ever fucking did was fucking _cry._

It wasn’t fair. It wasn’t fucking fair. Connor wasn’t here he wasn’t here he wasn’t and it wasn’t fair he should be here he should be not Evan, not Evan but Connor should be here he should -

Something was different. Something felt… different. 

Evan stiffened. 

He squared his shoulders, sat up straighter. 

He looked at Connor’s unconscious form, blinking, trying to understand. He knew Instinctively he knew that something… something was different. Something was different but he didn’t dare to hope, he couldn’t bear to be wrong. 

Evan found his voice, “Connor?”

He waited, his heart pounding, his blood rushing in his ears. He waited, desperate, begging, praying for the universe to grant him this one thing…

Evan squeezed Connor’s hand. “Something’s different,” He said because it was, it was different, something was different… something just out of the corner of his eye, something hazy and unreal. 

Evan turned his head. Looked away from Connor because he thought he saw…

He thought he saw Connor. 

That wasn’t… It didn’t make sense but. Nothing made sense. Nothing made sense, twenty-nine-year-olds didn’t have appendectomies and end up in comas, twenty-six-year-olds didn’t take the bar twenty times because they kept killing themselves in the middle 

It didn’t make sense but Evan was certain Connor was there. 

In a way he hadn’t been a moment ago. A way he hadn’t been in weeks. 

“Connor, are you… are you here?”

* * *

“Yes!” Connor says, feeling his heart leap, something inside him feeling more hope than he has in months. “I’m here, I swear I’m here, I’m trying, I’m trying I’m trying.”

Connor has to do something. He has to make this work, he has to…

He sits on the edge of the hospital bed. On top of his body. 

Lies down. 

Wills himself to… fuck, he doesn’t know, slot back into his body?

Get back in. 

He stretches out his arm so it reaches the hand that Evan’s holding. 

Tries to adjust the angle the best he can. 

Focuses everything he’s got in him and squeezes. 

Evan’s eyes widen. He looks at Connor’s hand. 

“Connor. Did you…”

“Yes!” Connor yells. “Yes, I did, I swear I did, just give me… I’ll figure this out, I swear, I’ll keep trying, I’ll never stop trying, I-”

He moves his fingers again. Ever so slightly. 

Evan’s eyes go even wider. 

“Connor,” Evan says, his voice urgent. “Connor, can you hear me? Please, open your eyes, I’m here, I’m _here,_ please please please, if you can move your hand you can open your eyes, please just open your eyes, open your eyes.”

It takes a moment for Connor to realize that Evan’s pushed some kind of call button, and the room is full of people, and they’re looking at his body, shining lights in his eyes, and it’s loud and it’s bright bright bright and Connor can feel his heart beating too fast, too too fast, too too too too fast, and he reaches for Evan, who’s been shoved away from his body by doctors and nurses and fuck knows who else but he realizes in horror that his vision is starting to darken, he’s starting to slip away, he’s starting to…

“No! No, I’m not fucking going, I’m not going, I…. Evan, I’m here, I swear I’m here, I’m coming back, I’m coming back to you, I’m not giving up I’m _not_ fucking giving up I-”

There is a tightness in his chest and he can’t breathe, he can’t breathe, and it’s pitch black, it’s pitch black, and it feels like his brain is exploding, it feels like he’s dying, he can’t see, he can’t breathe, everything is fading in and out, and he sees Evan and black, Evan and black, Evan and black and black and black and…

* * *

Evan waited, impatient, terrified, but certain that… that he’d get an answer. If Connor was here, somehow, disconnected from his body he would. Evan would know. Connor would tell him, somehow. 

That wasn’t… that wasn’t logic. 

Evan wasn’t making sense he wasn’t but he was so sure -

Connor’s hand squeezed Evan’s back. 

Evan’s eyes popped wide. Connor had squeezed his hand, he’d squeezed Evan’s hand, he’d - 

He had squeezed Evan’s fucking hand. “Connor. Did you…”

A beat. Maybe two. 

And then Connor’s fingers moved again. Just the tiniest twitch, the most meager wiggle, but it was real, it had happened and Evan had seen it. He had seen it, felt it, it was real. 

“Connor,” Evan begged, “Connor, can you hear me? Please, open your eyes, I’m here, I’m _here,_ please please please, if you can move your hand you can open your eyes, please just open your eyes, open your eyes.”

He reached for the call button, slamming it hard, still talking, “Please Connor, Connor please I love you I love you -”

“What’s the issue?” The nurse on call said, looking bored, and Evan practically shouted that Connor had squeezed his hand, that he’d shown signs of life, of proper life for the first time in weeks. 

“He squeezed your hand?”

“Yes, yes he did!”

A doctor appeared a few moments later. Alex not long after that. She shot Evan a bewildered look - probably wondering why he wasn’t at a wedding in the Hamptons - and she started to flash a light in Connor’s eyes, taking his pulse. 

Then his heart monitor began to beep frantically. 

“His pressure’s dropping,” The other doctor said to Alex, pulling Connor’s hospital gown open, exposing his pale chest, his shoulders, the edge of the melting clock tattoo, the proof that Connor was real and had lived through dying twenty times. 

“What’s going on?” Evan asked, clinging to the wall. Connor’s heart rate grew more jagged on the monitor, more rapid. 

“He’s crashing,” Alex said. Her voice was urgent, efficient, as she commanded the nurse and other doctor to inject Connor with something. “Give me the paddles,” She said. 

Evan watched in absolute horror as his roommate defibrillated his boyfriend. As a nurse towed him out of the room after Alex screamed, “Get him out of here.”

He watched as the floor grew rapidly closer and closer as his knees gave out under him. Evan felt his chest clenching and compressing painfully and he couldn’t breathe he could not breathe he couldn’t breathe or think or live not without Connor not without Connor he couldn’t he wouldn’t he couldn’t -


	22. TWENTY-ONE

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> “Do yourself a favor, kid. Cut this guy loose. He’s going to get you killed.”

It’s bright. 

Too bright. 

Cold. 

He opens his eyes. 

“Oh, thank fuck.”

Distantly, Connor recognizes a voice. “Like you fucking care,” says Andi, sounding disgusted. “You got him to fucking sign that piece of paper saying it’s not your fault if he died, you fucking prick.”

“I’m okay,” Connor says, or thinks he says. He doesn’t think the words come out right. 

He’s soaking wet, wrapped in some kind of blanket, and there’s someone he doesn’t recognize standing over him, checking his vitals. 

“I strongly recommend getting him to a hospital,” says the unfamiliar woman. “We had to restart his heart, for Christ’s sake.”

“We do that, and we have to explain why he’s pumped full of LSD,” says Dr. Weekes, frowning and looking at Connor. “Unless you’re prepared to tell them you’re a junkie? In the paper you signed, you said you wouldn’t disclose any of this. You signed it.”

“I’m fine,” Connor tries again, and this time it seems to be understood. “What’s…”

“Well, your heart stopped, so there’s that,” says Andi, looking well and truly terrified. “Fucking hell, Connor, you almost died.”

“Your heart didn’t stop long enough to kill you,” says Dr. Weekes dismissively. “Besides, you’ve died before.”

“And I’m done,” says the unfamiliar woman. “Whatever the fuck is going on here, I want no part in it. I’m not bailing you out again, Weekes.” She looks straight at Connor. “Do yourself a favor, kid. Cut this guy loose. He’s going to get you killed.”

Connor realizes, dimly, that he’s shaking. Andi wraps another blanket around him and pulls him into a hug. “You scared the fucking hell out of me,” she says, holding him bone-crushingly tight. “You… oh my god, Connor.”

“It worked,” Connor says, a little dazed. 

Dr. Weekes looks at him, genuine excitement on his face. “It did?”

“Kind of,” he says. “I wasn’t in my body, but I saw it. I’m… in the other reality, I’m in a coma.”

Andi looks pale. “Fuck.”

“Evan was there,” he continues, a horrible pain in his chest that he thinks has nothing to do with having recently had his heart restarted. “He was… I managed to… he felt me, I think, he…. I tried to move my hand and I did, I did, I…. I think if I were there for longer, if I could… I could get back into my body. I could. I could make it work, I could… I could get back.” He looks at Dr. Weekes. “Put me back in.”

The doctor looks genuinely torn. He shakes his head. “I don’t think I can.”

“Bullshit you can’t. Just put me back in.”

He shakes his head. “I don’t think you’d survive another time, Connor, I… I’d have to pump you full of more drugs, shock you again and… your heart can’t take it.”

Connor bites his lip. “Okay, so I’ll get a good night’s sleep and we’ll try again in the morning.”

“That’s not enough time to recover.”

“Well, when are you next in New York?” Connor asks, a little desperately. “Or I can come to you, wherever you are. I can… how long do I need to recover? We can try again. It worked, I swear it worked.”

“I’m on a book tour for the next six months,” says Dr. Weekes slowly. “I can’t… if we tried again, it wouldn’t be until October.”

Connor feels his heart sink. “Six months,” he repeats. 

“And that’s if we try again,” says Dr. Weekes, frowning. “That was… look, Jessie’s a friend of mine but there’s no fucking way she’s not going to tell Columbia that she had to resuscitate someone after an experiment. There’s going to be… fuck, this is going to be hell, there’s going to be some kind of investigation and I… I might just need to lie low, try it again once it all dies down.”

Connor grabs the doctor’s arm as tight as he can, which isn’t very tight because he’s shaking. “No. No, you can’t, I can’t… I need to get back. I need to. If I’m in a fucking coma then eventually they’re gonna… fuck, they might pull the plug and then I’ll never… I’ll never get back home, I’ll never get back, I-”

“Kid, is this worth dying over?”

Connor doesn’t hesitate. “Yes.”

“No,” says Andi, her expression determined. “No, I’m not letting you kill yourself over this, Connor. We’ll find another way.”

“What if there isn’t another way?” Connor demands. “This is the only lead we have, and it worked! It worked, I just needed more time, if you’d just let me-”

“Your heart stopped!”

“That’s a risk I’m willing to take!”

“Well, I’m not.” 

“That’s not your decision to make, Andi.”

Andi’s eyes fill with tears. “Connor, I can’t… I can’t watch you die, okay? I just can’t do it. We need to find another way.”

“We’ll regroup,” says Jenny quietly. Connor had forgotten she was even here. “We’ll take some time. You can recover, get your strength back, and then we’ll… we’ll think of something.” She looks at Andi challengingly. “This isn’t giving up, Connor, it’s just… taking a moment to regroup, okay?”

Connor looks at Jenny, then back at Andi. 

Andi looks scared. 

So fucking scared. 

He lets out a breath. 

“Okay,” he says. He’s so fucking tired. “Can we just… can we just go home?”

* * *

Evan came to on a gurney. 

“You passed out,” Alex said to him when he opened his eyes. “How many panic attacks a week are you currently having? Might be worth talking to your doctor about changing your meds if they’re this bad. I know things are stressful but I’ve seen you have a handful in the last week. You might need a new drug regimen.”

Evan stared at her. Like his frequent panic attacks were really what he was concerned about right now. “What happened?”

She clicked her pen closed. She looked so fucking tired. “You had a panic attack. You were hyperventilating and lost consciousness. You also smacked your head pretty hard on the ground when you fell, and I suspect you might have a concussion. Do you feel nauseated, does your head hurt? Your blood alcohol level, by the way, is a .188, how much have you been drinking? I thought you were going to the wed-”

“Is he dead?” Evan asked dully, interrupting.

Alex frowned. “No,” She said. She took a deep breath. Let it out slowly. “His heart stopped. We had to shock him a few times to restart it.” 

Evan felt like he’d been shot. Like all of the life was spilling out of him from the pain growing from his chest. He hadn’t been shot before. Part of him started to look around for someone with a gun. He’d expect it. Welcome it even. 

Alex took his hand. “Connor stopped breathing on his own,” She said, so so so gently. “We had to intubate.” 

Evan rubbed a hand over his face. “He squeezed my hand. Just before the monitors went crazy.”

Alex shook her head. “He hadn’t been conscious -”

“Alex, listen. He squeezed my hand. I swear.”

Alex looked utterly conflicted by that information. “I’m not sure that is possible,” She said finally, her tone professional and diplomatic. 

“But… I felt it,” Evan said, showing her his hand as if Connor’s squeeze had left some kind of mark, some visible proof that it had happened. It should have burned or cut him or something, it should have left a mark. “I… I need you to believe me. I need you… I’m not lying.”

“I called Zoe,” Alex said after a few moments. “We had to put him on a ventilator, or someone would have to manually… We put him on a ventilator.”

Evan felt sick. Dizzy. 

“Zoe just got here,” Alex said. “Cynthia and Larry too.”

“I have to talk to Zoe -” Evan said, going to stand up, but Alex blocked him bodily. 

“No. I’m admitting you for observation.”

“Like hell you are!” Evan said, indignant and furious. 

“I’m worried about your safety. You have a concussion, you’ve been having panic attacks. You’re extremely drunk -”

“I’m _really_ not,” Evan snapped. 

“And your boyfriend is on a vent. This… it’s not good, dude. I’m sorry. I just, this doesn’t look good, and I just… I don’t trust you alone. If I knew you’d be with someone, I’d be okay letting you leave, but. Well. You are. You’re by yourself, so I’m keeping you here until my shift ends.”

“You can’t do that,” Evan said. “You can’t hold me here against my will.”

“Push me again and I’ll commit you involuntarily,” Alex said shortly. “Don’t think I don’t have enough reasons. I am not fucking around Evan. You need to take care of yourself, and right now I don’t see that happening.” She sucked in a breath. “I called your mom.”

Evan could have killed her. “Why the fuck would you do that?”

“She’s on her way,” Alex said. “Cynthia already called her and begged her to come… She flies in tonight.”

“This is bullshit! You cannot call my mom to come babysit me. I’m twenty-nine years old!”

“Yeah?” Alex said. “Well, until you can slap ‘doctor’ in front of your name, I’m in charge here. So sit your ass down and shut up.” She made a note in the chart she was carrying. “And Sabrina is on her way.”

“Fuck you!”

“You’ll thank me later.”

“You… I hate you,” Evan spat, meaning it, very suddenly meaning it. He hated her. He hated that she wasn’t doing anything, wasn’t helping Connor, wasn’t doing anything. He hated her. 

“Yeah, not such a fan of you right now either,” Alex quipped, rolling her eyes. 

“You stupid fucking bitch you can’t do this, you can’t…”

“Call me all the names you want,” Alex said. “If it means you make it through this alive, I really don’t care.”

* * *

Andi spends a full week trying to convince Connor to go see a doctor. 

“They had to restart your heart,” she keeps saying. “Because it stopped. You need to get everything checked out. Make sure there’s no lasting damage.”

“I’m fine,” Connor keeps insisting. And he is fine. Tired, but fine. 

Except that he’s never been further from fine because…

He’s in a coma. 

He’s in a fucking coma in another reality. 

And he has no way of getting back in sight. 

No other leads. 

Part of him is tempted to just… try doing whatever it was that Dr. Weekes did by himself. Read up on it, buy a sensory deprivation pod online, find someone who’ll sell him some LSD and mildly electrocute him and try it again. 

But he doesn’t know enough about the process to do it safely, and he doesn’t want to just… die. 

Except there’s still a voice in the back of his head, telling him that if he kills himself, he’ll snap back to his reality. 

It’s getting harder and harder to ignore. 

Andi’s terrified. It’s clear that she’s terrified.

It’s also clear she’s starting to figure out what Connor’s known all along. 

That no one really knows what’s happened to the Connor who belongs in this universe, and if this Connor gets back to his reality, who knows what will happen to him in this reality?

Andi doesn’t want to lose him. 

And he gets it, he does… except that this isn’t his Andi. 

This isn’t his Andi, this isn’t his reality. 

So hurting her… it sucks, but at the end of the day, it doesn’t matter. 

He has to keep telling himself that it doesn’t matter, when she looks at him with big, terrified brown eyes, frantically baking all sorts of things he likes, in some mad attempt to convince him that staying here wouldn’t be that bad. 

She keeps saying things about the future. 

About how now that he’s the manager at the bookstore, has he ever thought about offering to buy the business when Gladys and Martha retire? 

“They’re old,” she reminds him. “Soon they won’t be able to keep it up. You’ve got a trust fund, I’m sure you could afford to buy it.”

Connor hasn’t told her that in an alternate reality, that’s exactly what he did. 

He’s tried to keep the details about the other reality… separate. As much as he can. 

There are things Andi knows, sure, but Connor doesn’t want her to know everything. 

Because it’s…

It’s his life. 

And this isn’t his Andi. 

It’s a weird feeling to know that this person who looks exactly like someone he loves isn’t quite right, isn’t quite them. 

He’s in a coma in his reality. His Andi must be worried sick. 

But that’s nothing compared to how Evan must be feeling. 

Fuck. 

Fuck.

Fuck. 

Evan had just looked… so wrecked. He’d looked good in his suit, of course, all dressed up, but it wasn’t right, he hadn’t looked right, he’d looked… off. Like a funhouse mirror version of himself, distorted and tired. Too thin. Too tired. Unsteady on his feet. Exhausted and stretched out and heavy, so heavy, like he was carrying something that could crush him any second. 

Connor can’t stop thinking about it. 

Can’t stop thinking about what he’d said, how he’d sensed Connor somehow. 

He’d been all dressed up for Charles and Asher’s wedding, he’d said. 

Connor can’t remember when the wedding was supposed to be, not exactly, but it was… soon? Evan was standing up. 

He’d said that he wasn’t anymore. 

Fuck. 

That’s on Connor, that’s his fault. 

Evan should have…

Fuck. 

Fuck, if he’d gone to the wedding, then Connor wouldn’t have seen him, would have just seen his own comatose body, so part of him is glad he didn’t go, but…

Fuck. 

Connor doesn’t know how long it’s been. 

He can’t figure it out. 

At least two weeks, if not more.

Less time than Connor’s spent in this reality. 

Less time by far. 

Which is…

It’s something. 

But if Evan looks that wrecked after maybe two weeks, what’s going to happen if it keeps going?

Is Evan going to be able to keep going?

Is Connor?

Fuck. 

* * *

Evan slept off and on in the hospital bed Alex had stuck him in. He knew, objectively, he could just get up and walk out the moment she turned her back, but he wouldn’t put it past her to actually have him involuntarily committed and they definitely wouldn’t let psych patients come visit coma patients. 

They could hold you for fifteen days in New York without cause… 

And frankly. Well. There was cause to hold him. 

So Evan stayed. And slept. And dreamt of Connor, horrible sick, science-fiction types of nightmares where Connor was in some kind of alien pod full of salt, where he was being shocked by some doctor Evan didn’t recognize, where he was being injected by huge needles and turned into some kind of sad Frankenstein’s monster sort of half-person...

He woke up a few times. Once when Alex was sticking him with an IV, and he’d sleepily mumbled that he did not have alcohol poisoning. 

“It’s a banana bag,” She said. “Helps with the hangover.”

He closed his eyes again, finding he had no energy to argue with her. 

Sabrina and Graham arrived sometime in the middle of the night. Sabrina looked really anxious and Graham looked… pissed. Really fucking pissed. 

So Sabrina had told him what Evan had said to her. 

Cool. 

She got pulled away at one point, a phone call or something, and Graham looked Evan in the eye. “Don’t ever talk to her like that again.” 

Evan dropped his gaze. Found he had no words to respond. To explain or apologize or… He had no words. There was no excuse. 

“I know this is hard for you. I know if it were me, I’d be… a wreck. But you can’t talk to her like that. She loves you.” 

Evan opened his mouth. 

Closed it again. 

Said nothing. 

Sabrina returned, looking ashen and scared. “I just saw him,” She said. “I saw Connor.”

Evan held his breath. 

“No change. I’m so sorry.”

“He squeezed my hand,” Evan said weakly. “I felt it. I _felt_ it.” He knew. He knew he sounded like a madman, like a lunatic repeating himself, but he knew. He knew what he felt. He knew what happened. 

“I know,” Sabrina said. “I know you did.”

He drifted back to sleep, his head aching in a fuzzy, television static sort of way. His skin felt uncomfortable, loose, and he realized with panic the next time he woke up that his tie was missing. 

His tie was missing and Evan felt like his head might fall right off of his neck. His tie was missing. 

When he opened his eyes, his mom was standing beside his bed. She had the maroon tie in her hands. She looked so worried. He had made her look so worried. “Hi baby.”

Evan tried to smile at her. “Hi mama.”

“I should have come sooner,” She said, her voice shaking. “I should have come right away. I’m so sorry sweetheart.” She pulled him into the tightest hug, and it dissolved whatever shred remained of his resolve. He cried on her shoulder like an inconsolable child for a long time. 

Because Connor was going to die. He knew that now. 

Connor was going to die, to properly die and stay dead, and there was not one damn thing that Evan could do to stop it. So he cried on his mom and let her sit there with him, let her sit there and bear witness to his pain, because he had nowhere else to go, no place else to put it. 


	23. TWENTY-TWO

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> “The last time you gave me a joint laced with cocaine, things did not go well.”

It takes a few days for Connor to realize that he’s being watched. That Andi and Jenny are clearly taking shifts to check in on him, make sure he’s not about to do anything like get high and throw a toaster in the bath or some shit. 

Jenny, it seems, still hasn’t fucking got the memo that she doesn’t live here. 

It’s annoying, but he can deal with it, he thinks. 

Until he can’t. 

It all comes to a head when he gets home and finds Jenny erasing everything off the wall. 

All of it. All their hard work. 

Gone. 

He doesn’t hesitate. He tackles her to the ground, trying to stop her. 

She lets out a yell, and there’s a flurry of limbs, but he’s stronger than her, and soon he’s got her pinned to the ground. 

“What the fuck are you doing?” he yells. “That’s everything we have, that took us fucking months!”

“We have photos,” she spits back. “We have photos of all of it. We just can’t keep it on the wall, okay? This has gone far enough. This whole fucking thing is out of control.”

Connor pulls away. Runs his hand through his hair. 

“You said you’d help me get home,” he says, almost surprised at how caustic his voice is. “You were dying and dying, over and over again, until you met me. You… you said that you’d help me.”

“That experiment nearly killed you,” says Jenny, her eyes big and scared, “and we don’t have any other fucking leads! I won’t help you kill yourself.”

Connor snorts. “We’ve both died before. Didn’t stick.”

“Doesn’t mean we can’t die,” Jenny warns. “And die permanently.”

“Who says?” Connor counters. “Who says we’re not, like, immortal or some shit? Who says that from now on, any time we die we just come straight back to life?”

Jenny shakes her head. “We can’t know that.”

Connor’s so fucking sick of this. He’s so fucking sick of it all. “Why not try it out?” he says, then stands up and heads toward the window. “I could jump out right now and see.”

Jenny stands up, too. “Don’t be an asshole.”

“Oh, don’t act like you didn’t know,” Connor snaps. 

Jenny frowns. “Like I didn’t know what?”

“Isn’t it obvious?” he says, his voice bitter. “Me getting back to where I belong means I die here. If I’m in a coma back in my reality, then where the fuck is this reality’s Connor, huh? Isn’t it fucking obvious?”

“You don’t know that.”

“It’s fucking obvious that he’s already dead.”

“So, what?” Jenny challenges. “You’re just going to kill yourself? Leave me and Andi to explain it to the people who love you?”

“They’re not real,” Connor says. “None of this is real.”

He heads toward the window, heart racing. 

Jenny tackles him to the ground.

Throws him against the wall. 

“Fuck you!” he yells. 

“Fuck you!” she yells back, and punches him in the face. 

Connor reacts on instinct and punches her right back. 

Then immediately feels sick. 

He knows how to throw a punch, and Jenny’s half his size. Her head snaps back, her nose starts to bleed and she looks dazed, shocked, and he doesn’t know what to do, he doesn’t know what to do, so he just sits there, horrified, as she bleeds and bleeds and stares at him, trembling. 

“Fuck,” he says, his voice barely above a whisper. “Fuck, Jenny, I’m so sorry, I’m so fucking sorry.”

She wipes the blood from under her nose with the back of her hand and keeps staring at him. 

“I’m sorry,” he says again.

“I want to help you,” she says, her voice shaky. “I really fucking do. But I don’t…” She wipes her nose again. “I died and I died and I died and I couldn’t stop it, I couldn’t, and that… that fucking sucked and I had no control over it. But I never took anyone else with me, not even once.” She closes her eyes. There’s bruising coming in on her face, and Connor feels like he might throw up. “Maybe I’ll start dying again if I refuse to help you. I don’t know. But I can’t… I can’t let whatever fucked up thing that’s going on make me a murderer. I just can’t.” 

Connor closes his eyes. 

Hopes that when he opens them, he’ll be somewhere else. 

He keeps them closed as long as he can. 

“Connor. Please.”

“Okay,” he says. “I get it. Okay.”

* * *

Evan’s mom took him home on Sunday. 

“You should be with Cynthia,” Evan kept saying. Repeating. “She’s the one who flew you out because she needed… She wanted you here, you shouldn’t…”

“She understands,” His mom said briskly. She was changing his sheets. Evan had no fight in him to stop her, to tell her to knock it off. “She told me to stay with you. She’s a mom… she gets it.”

Evan didn’t fight her. 

He called off work for the next day when she told him too. Ate food when she put it in front of him. Slept a while, but not too long, because Evan had a concussion and needed to be woken every few hours. Took his meds when prompted. His mom had strong-armed her way into picking up his refill. They watched a few episodes of Bob Ross in the living room, Evan’s head on his mom’s shoulder. 

“Baby,” She said after Bob finished painting a lovely winter scene. “Zoe and Alex told me that… You said Connor squeezed your hand last night.”

He nodded. “He did.”

She sighed. “I know… I know in high school that. Sometimes. You told me sometimes you could… convince yourself that something was real. If you wanted it to be real, you’d…”

“That’s not what this is,” Evan said sharply. 

“I know how badly you want Connor to wake up, honey. And I know this has been a hard few weeks for you. Alex told me… she said you’ve been drinking a lot?”

“I wasn’t… I wasn’t that drunk,” Evan said, his heart racing. “I’m not making this up. I’m not, I swear…”

“I know how real it probably felt sweetheart -”

“I’m not delusional,” Evan said. He was basically pleading. “You have to believe me I felt him squeeze my hand. I felt it.”

His mom opened her mouth. Closed it again. Wrapped her arms around him tightly. “Okay sweetheart. Okay.”

“I’m not crazy,” He said. Sobbed. “I’m not crazy.”

“Nobody thinks that,” his mom said, petting his hair. “I love you. I can’t imagine how hard this is for you. Nobody thinks you’re crazy. Nobody thinks that sweetheart.”

They watched more Bob Ross together. His mom checked her phone a couple of times. Evan fell asleep eventually, his head on his mom’s shoulder, letting her baby him because he was out of steam, out of fight, he had nothing else to give.

She noticed his bitten up and picked at cuticles, all scabbed and bloody. She noticed the other marks on him too, bruises and a cigarette burn, casualties of his tendency to drink himself to sleep in the last few days. 

His mom disappeared into the bathroom and returned with a first aid kit. She cleaned and bandaged what she could. Evan let her because he had no fight in him, and then he went back to sleep. Because he was exhausted. Because he had no fight in him. 

She woke him up and they ate Chinese food. 

Evan’s fortune cookie didn’t even have a fortune in it. 

He thought, darkly, that it was because even the cookie knew there was no future for him. 

“The Murphys are all going to meet with Connor’s doctors tomorrow,” His mom said maybe an hour later. “They’d like you to come, if you can?”

Evan nodded. “Of course.”

“Why don’t you get an early night, baby? You look exhausted.”

“Okay.” 

So Evan went and showered. Brushed his teeth. He pulled on pajamas and sunk into his bed. His mom was hovering in the door. “I’m just… I’m gonna stay until you fall asleep okay?” She said, having a seat at the edge of the mattress. 

So he didn’t escape. Do something stupid. 

“Okay,” Evan said softly. 

“I know this feels like the end of the world,” His mom said quietly. “But I swear you’re going to get through this.”

“Okay.”

He closed his eyes. 

When his mom thought he was asleep, he heard her on the phone a little while later. She was talking to his dad, Evan realized after a few minutes. 

“I’m just… watching him breathe,” She said, her voice hushed. “I’m terrified. I’m scared we’re going to lose him Carl.”

“No, don’t come here.” A pause. “No offense, but I don’t see that helping.” Another pause. “I’m not saying that. I’m not saying that…” She exhaled. “Maybe… maybe after this is all over… After Connor dies. Maybe I can get Evan to come home with me for a while. So I can keep an eye on him. So he isn’t alone. Fuck, Carl… I can’t leave him to go through this alone.”

Evan shut his eyes tight. 

He was not going back home. Not a chance.

Besides… besides. Connor was not going to die. 

Evan refused to let Connor die and he was not going anywhere. He refused. He wasn’t going anywhere, he was staying put, he refused. 

He refused.

* * *

When Connor gets home from closing the bookstore on Friday night, he finds a fuckton of people in the apartment. 

They’re all drinking and smoking and eating garlic bread, and there’s loud music playing and Connor’s kind of pissed off, because Andi didn’t say anything about throwing a party. 

The windows are all thrown open, which is good because it’s hot, it’s unseasonably warm, and there are people everywhere, and Connor presses his way through the crowd to head to his room, where there’s a couple making out on his bed. 

“Out,” he says sternly, and one of the guys holds his hands up in protest and they both leave. 

Connor flops down on his bed. 

Stares at the ceiling. 

Listens to the thumping bass of whatever the fuck it is that’s being played in the living room. 

He just…

He doesn’t want this. 

He doesn’t fucking want this. 

He wants to sleep, because if he sleeps then maybe he’ll dream about Evan, maybe he’ll see him, the way he pictures him in his head, smiling that bright smile that outshines the sun, laughing at some stupid joke, or with dark eyes as he kisses Connor fiercely.

Those dreams about Evan make it easier for Connor to deal with how utterly wrecked he looked when he saw him in the hospital, sitting next to Connor’s comatose body. 

The love of his life is in another fucking reality and Connor’s here, at a stupid party, and it’s not fucking fair, none of this is fair, this isn’t fucking fair. 

Connor doesn’t know if it’s a minute or an hour later, but the door to his room opens and Andi walks in. She’s clearly high. 

“Connor! Come join the party!” she says. 

She sounds giddy and light and happier than anyone has any right to be, fuck fuck fuck. 

“I’m not doing that.”

Andi pouts. “Connor. Connor, please.” She sits down on the edge of his bed. Grabs his hand. “I threw this party for you.”

Connor pulls his hand away. “What?”

“Things have sucked,” she says, sounding mournful. “And you’re so sad and I thought… a party might cheer you up.” She pulls a joint out of her bra. “This one’s laced with cocaine.”

“The last time you gave me a joint laced with cocaine, things did not go well.”

Andi grabs his hand again. Holds it tightly. Too tightly. 

“Connor. Connor, I need you to just… come on. Please. Please just… drink and get high and just… feel better, okay? Things are okay here. They’re okay. If you get stuck here, it’s not going to be that bad, I promise, I swear, I just… please just feel better.”

Connor blinks. “You promised you’d help me get home,” he says, suddenly angry. 

“And I’m helping!” Andi says, her voice shaky. “But I’m not going to help you die, Connor.”

“Did you ever think that might be the only way to get me home?” Connor spits out, his heart beating too fast, too too fast. “If I want to get to where I belong, then maybe I should just fucking kill myself.”

Andi blinks. Wraps her arms around Connor tightly, so tightly he thinks she might crush him. “No. No, no, I won’t let you kill yourself. No.”

“What if it’s the only way to get back?” Connor challenges. “What then, huh?”

“No,” Andi says, shaking her head as Connor pulls away. “You… we’re going to get you back to where you belong, and get this universe’s Connor back, and I won’t… I won’t have to lose anything.”

“The Connor in this universe won’t remember anything,” Connor says stubbornly. 

“That’s okay,” Andi says, her voice a little desperate. “I can deal with that. What I can’t deal with is you… is either of you just dying.”

Connor feels a ringing in his ears, a buzzing, and everything feels off-kilter. 

He feels like he’s taken a bite into aluminum foil. 

Nothing’s right. 

Nothing is fucking right. 

“In the other universe, I’m in a coma,” he says, looking straight at Andi. “And if I’m in a coma there but I’m me here, then where’s the other Connor, huh? Does he even exist?”

Andi’s eyes fill with tears. “Don’t say that.”

“He’s probably dead,” Connor continues, and he knows he’s being cruel, unnecessarily cruel, but he needs Andi to realize, he needs her to understand that no matter what happens, there is no ideal outcome here. 

No matter what happens, someone is going to lose someone. 

And as much as he loves Andi, Connor would rather than she lose him than lose Evan. 

It’s cruel. 

He knows that it’s cruel. 

But he can’t deny it. 

“He’s not dead,” says Andi stubbornly. “He’s just… stuck. Like you’re stuck. And you’re both… you’re both going to be fine.”

Connor stands up. “You keep telling yourself whatever you want,” he says, his voice rough. “I’m going to get drunk.”

With that, he leaves the room. 

Heads to the kitchen. 

Pulls out a bottle of rum and starts drinking. 


	24. TWENTY-THREE

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> "Look at us. He wouldn’t… He wouldn’t want this.”

His mom was in the shower and Evan was dressed and waiting to talk to the Murphys. They wanted to meet at Zoe’s apartment, which Evan thought was super weird, but he had decided he was done fighting. He was just going to do what he was told. 

His phone started to ring. A number with an area code from back home. 

Evan watched it ring for a few minutes but…

Well it was a stupid thought but his brain suddenly thought somehow it could be Connor, even though that was insane, that wasn’t a thing that was possible, but by that point he had already answered the call. 

“Hello, this is Evan Hansen,” he said because that was how he answered the phone now. 

“Hey dude! Can’t believe this is still your number, what the fuck!” 

Evan thought his brain must have finally given up the ghost and surrendered into being Fully Crazy because there was no way Jared Kleinman was calling him. They hadn’t spoken in like… eleven years. 

Cool, so that was fun. 

He was officially insane. 

“Jared?” Evan said, trying to confirm that his broken brain at least made some sense. 

“Yeah man, long time right?” Jared said. 

“Why…. why the fuck are you calling me?”

Jared laughed on the other side of the line. “Well because you blocked me on facebook so I can’t message you.”

“Why would you want to talk to me?” Evan asked. Evan remembered that he had blocked Jared on facebook after he’d posted something rude on a photo of Evan and Connor. 

“Well, is it true?”

“I don’t… I don’t -”

“Connor Murphy had an appendectomy and is now, like, near-death and in a coma and whatever?”

“H-how do you -?”

“My mom volunteers at this thing with Mrs. Murphy?” Jared was laughing. “Like, clearly the old lady gossip is getting a little out of hand because you don’t, like, fall into a coma because you got your appendix out. And since you’re bumping uglies with the guy, I figured you’d know the real story.”

Evan laughed hollowly. “You. You called me after a decade. For gossip.”

“Well, yeah -”

“You realize he’s my boyfriend, right?” Evan said. “Like, I love him? We’re together? You get that right, that Connor and I are… We’re a couple. It’s not like he’s just someone I know.”

“I mean -”

“And that it’s genuinely cruel to call someone out of the blue and ask them if their boyfriend is actually in a coma because you’re, I dunno, bored?”

“So it’s true?” Jared said, sounding surprised. “Damn, the freak really managed to out-freak himself.”

“You’re really still trying that freak shit, Jared? It’s even more transparent now, fucking hell. You were obsessed with him in high school,” Evan said with a hollow laugh. “Pathetically, ridiculously obsessed with him. Like, seriously Jared, were you just jerking off in your mom’s basement thinking about a guy you had a crush on in high school? Is that all your life has amounted to? And did you just think to yourself, ‘oh I know, I’ll call my ex and ask if this rumor I heard was true’? What the fuck is the matter with you?”

“I -”

“You’re a pathetic, small, and despicable person,” Evan said. “I cannot believe that Connor is in a coma but _you’re_ still allowed to live and breathe and exist when you’ve done nothing but waste oxygen since you were born.”

“Hey lay off, I didn’t realize it was so serious-”

“Do you think I give a flying fuck about your motivations?” Evan asked, laughing now. “You’re trash, Jared. Absolutely human garbage. You don’t matter. Not to me, not to anybody. Fucking hell, Jared, I genuinely cannot even remember the last time I spared your pathetic existence a thought. But you’re clearly still thinking about me. About Connor, who never even spoke to you unless you were antagonizing him. How fucking sad your life might be that you need to insert yourself into someone else’s tragedy to feel like you matter. Because you don’t. You don’t matter. And you never have. I bet your parents regret you every fucking day. If you dad had just pulled out your parents would be a lot fucking happier now, because all you are is a waste of potential and a huge asshole.”

“In fact,” Evan said, on a fucking roll now, “You should probably just end it. Yeah, you should definitely just go and kill yourself. You should kill yourself because you’re a waste of DNA and at least if you did it neatly, someone could make use of your organs. So how about you go take care of the smear on society that you’ve amounted to and I’ll get back to my sick boyfriend? How about that?”

The line went dead. 

Evan stared as his phone, his breathing uneven and he was so fucking angry, he was so damn angry he could scream, he could break his phone, he could punch something he could blow up and take this whole block with him he could -

“Sweetheart?” 

His mom was standing there, barefoot with a towel wrapped around her hair, in jeans and a t-shirt. It was warm out today, Evan heard her say. 

“Yeah?”

“Were you… were you on the phone?”

Evan almost laughed because it was so fucking bizarre. “Yeah. Uh. Jared Kleinman just called me.”

His mom wrinkled her nose, obviously confused. “Why?”

“To ask if it’s true that my boyfriend is in a coma.”

His mom’s face fell. “He did _what_?”

“Yep,” Evan said, almost… almost laughing. “He. Wanted. Gossip or - I don’t even. He still has my phone number? We haven’t talked since high school and he still has my phone number.” He shook his head. “I cannot fucking believe him.”

“He was always such a little shithead,” His mom said, shaking her head. “And apparently had grown up to be just… An adult shithead.”

“Apparently.”

“I… Remind me to give Rebecca Kleinman a piece of my mind the next time I see her,” Evan’s mom said, her voice caustic and angry. “Fuck. I am so sorry sweetheart.”

“That’ll teach me to answer an unknown number I guess,” Evan said quietly. 

* * *

There are… three bottles of rum in Connor’s kitchen. 

Well, there were. 

He’s drunk most of them now. 

He’s… 

He’s really fucking drunk. 

And high. 

And… whatever. 

There’s a guy with dark hair and dimples and he’s smiling at Connor, smiling at him like he’s interested, and Connor has a boyfriend. 

But his boyfriend is dead. 

And Connor is in a coma. 

Connor has to tell this guy that. 

He walks over to tell this guy that his boyfriend is dead and he’s actually in a coma, but instead the guy smiles and says, “you must be Connor.”

He’s not expecting that. 

“I must be,” he replies, completely thrown off. 

The guy smiles. His dimples are cute. “I’m a friend of Jenny’s,” he says. “She invited me. My name’s Parker.”

“I remember you,” says Connor, because he does remember him. 

They went on a date because Evan told him he should date someone. 

Fuck Evan for telling him he should date someone. 

That was…

He was…

Connor didn’t sleep with him but he made him a grilled cheese sandwich and never called him again. 

Asshole. 

He’s such an asshole. 

Evan was so jealous, so so jealous, and Connor was such an asshole. 

“You do?” says Parker, looking confused. 

“We should have some more rum,” Connor decides, and retrieves another bottle from the kitchen and pours them some glasses, and asks Parker about his book. 

Parker tells him about his book and Connor smokes Andi’s joint and drinks the rum and keeps filling up Parker’s glass so he’s not the only one who’s drinking because drinking alone is bad and Connor hates it when Evan drinks alone, he hates it, he hates it so much, when Evan got alcohol poisoning Connor was so scared, so fucking scared, he thought he’d lose him, he was so fucking scared that he’d lose him, that Evan would die, but Evan _did_ die, he died over and over and over again, he died in this reality, he’s dead in this reality, he threw himself off a building and Connor watched it happen and Connor didn’t stop him and he was at Evan’s funeral, at his fucking _funeral_ except that he wasn’t, it reset, it always resets, everything’s the same, nothing fucking changes, Connor’s stuck he’s stuck stuck stuck stuck-

“You with me?” 

“Yeah,” Connor lies. 

He’s got no fucking idea.

There are warm lips on his, arms around him, a kiss to his collarbone he’s always loved Evan’s collarbone, Evan made a joke once about how Connor was going to run off with his collarbone that’s so stupid like Connor would ever intentionally go anywhere Evan wasn’t like he’d ever leave he didn’t want to leave he left he left he didn’t mean to he didn’t mean to he didn’t mean any of it

“Connor, fuck.”

He’s kissing this stranger and trying to drown, everyone’s a stranger but Evan, everyone everyone everyone, he’s kissing this stranger he kind of knows and it’s not the same, it’s not the same, but he has to feel something. 

There are lips and teeth colliding, limbs everywhere and everything is hazy and warm and he loses himself, loses himself because is he even real, is anything real, he’s in a coma, he’s not really here, this isn’t real, none of it is real, and Evan’s dead, Evan’s dead, Evan Evan Evan Evan Evan Evan Evan Evan Evan-

* * *

Evan and his mom arrived at Zoe’s apartment around noon. Evan had only been to Zoe’s place a handful of times. She had a roommate and preferred to come to Connor’s if they hung out. 

Evan always sort of got that. Not that he didn’t like his apartment but the bookstore apartment felt more like… home. A place where he could relax and feel safe. 

Originally he thought that was just because Evan had never died there but honestly, Evan could feel at home anywhere with Connor. Anywhere he saw Connor’s smile, watched him reading something with such intense concentration… 

Connor was home. He was safe, always safe. 

Evan and mom took the subway to Zoe’s. Evan struggled with the morbid impulse to throw himself in front of an oncoming train in front of his mother. 

He needed to keep his shit together. 

He needed to keep his fucking shit together. 

They walked to Zoe’s place, falling into step beside one another. “Did they tell you what they wanted to talk about?”

His mom shook her head. “No.”

Evan hated that. He hated everything. Everything. 

Larry was the one who answered the door. In jeans and a Cornell Law shirt. Each time he saw Larry, he was more and more dressed down. Which meant things were worse. 

Things were worse. 

Evan tried to breathe normally. 

“Come inside, please,” Larry said, holding the door open. Evan and his mom followed him inside, into Zoe’s tastefully decorated living room. Cynthia was sitting in an armchair, her arms wrapped tightly around herself. Her nose was red, and her eyes. 

She’d been crying. 

“Where’s Zoe?” Evan asked. 

“Here,” She said. He turned and saw her coming out of the bathroom. She looked ill. Pale, sweaty, shaky. “Sorry.” She’d clearly thrown up. 

“You okay?” Evan asked her. 

She shook her head. “Let’s… we should sit down.”

Evan didn’t know what that meant. His heart thudded along too fast. He sat on the sofa beside his mom, and Zoe had a seat in another chair. Larry remained standing. 

“I…” Zoe started. She looked so fucking sad. So damn sad. 

“It’s okay,” Cynthia said. “It’s okay Zoe.”

Evan looked at her, then at Larry, Cynthia… his mom. “What’s going on?”

Zoe shook her head, wiping her eyes. “I… Connor is on life support.” She cleared her throat. “He’s… he’s not able to breathe on his own. He… He’s not. He’s probably not going to wake up.”

Evan felt cold. Everything felt cold. 

“His will was… It was specific. He…” Zoe blinked rapidly. “I’m. I have to make the decision. I have to.” She cleared her throat. “I’ve decided that… if he doesn’t wake up in the next three days… we’re going to take Connor off of life support.”

“What?” Evan said, his heart beating too hard, way too hard. “No, you…”

“I don’t want to do this,” Zoe said, and she was crying. “But I… We don’t know if he’s in pain. We don’t know what’s going on with him. All we know is that he. He signed a piece of fucking paper that says he doesn’t want to be kept alive on a ventilator so I… So I have to respect that. I don’t want to, but I have to.”

“No,” Evan said again. “You don’t have to… You have power of attorney, there’s nothing about time limits, there’s nothing I-I wrote it, I was the one who… I wrote it. There’s nothing…. He needs more time.”

Cynthia started to sob. Larry was staring out of the window. 

“I know,” Zoe said. “I know. But it’s my… Legally it’s my call to make. And. I can’t… He’s not there anymore, Evan. I want to give people time to say their goodbyes, but then… We have to let him go.”

“No you fucking don’t,” Evan said, and his heart was working too hard, his vision was blurred with tears. He turned to look at Larry. “We can contest the will.”

“No,” Larry said. 

“We can,” Evan said. “I can… I’ll find something, a-a… I’ll find something, I wrote it, I’ll file an injunction we…. We don’t have to obey that. We don’t have to-”

“No,” Larry said. “He picked Zoe as… He picked Zoe to make this call.”

“You don’t have to do this,” Evan said to her, desperately. 

“Baby, sit down,” His mom said to him gently, putting her hand on his arm. “I know this is hard but -”

“No,” Evan shouted. “No you don’t get to do this. You can’t do this. Please, Zoe.” 

“I don’t like it either,” Zoe said, and she was crying. “I hate that it’s my call… I hate it. But. I can’t… we can’t do this anymore, Evan. Look at us. He wouldn’t… He wouldn’t want this.”

“Please don’t do this,” Evan begged, crying, grabbing her hand. “Please… Please Zoe. Please don’t do this. Just give him a little more time. He squeezed my hand. He did, I swear -”

“Evan,” She said gently. “You were drunk.”

Evan shook his head, hard, refusing to hear her. “He did. He’s in there, Zoe, I… I need him to be alive. I need him. Please don’t do this… _Please_ Zoe.” 

“I’m so sorry,” She said, squeezing his hand. “I don’t… I’m so sorry.” Zoe dropped his hand, rushing away. He heard her throwing up in the bathroom. Evan just stood there, numb. He kept blinking, willing himself to wake up, to go back to this morning, to last week, to a month ago when he and Connor were happy when everything was okay. 

This wasn’t real. 

He blinked. 

This couldn’t be real. 

He blinked again, harder, his vision blurred with tears. 

This wasn’t real it wasn’t it wasn’t it wasn’t real. 

This couldn’t be real. 

He needed it to not be real. 


	25. TWENTY-FOUR

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> "I can’t save him. I can’t do anything but watch the love of my life die."

Connor wakes up. 

His head is screaming. 

He’s naked, and it’s too bright. 

He rolls over and the bed is still warm. 

He…

Fuck. 

Fuck. 

No. 

Fuck, he…

Fuck. 

Fuck. FUCK. 

Connor pulls himself out of bed. Throws on a bathrobe, then makes his way to the bathroom. 

Pukes. 

Pukes again. 

Pukes another time. 

Rinses his mouth, then looks at his reflection in the bathroom mirror. 

Fuck. 

Fucking fucking fuck. 

He washes his face, then heads toward the kitchen, because he fucking needs coffee, but stops when he hears voices. 

“Hey, where did you end up last night?” asks Jenny, sounding more cheerful than she has any right to be. 

“With, uh… I was with Connor?” 

His heart plummets. 

It’s Parker. 

Parker. 

“You slept with him?” asks Jenny, her voice genuinely shocked. “Parker. Seriously, I told you-”

“I made a mistake, okay?” says Parker, sounding genuinely upset. “I just… I didn’t realize he was as drunk as he was, I thought… I didn’t… he kissed me and took me to his room and I… I feel terrible, he was so drunk, I see that now and I… shouldn’t have slept with him, I _know_ I shouldn’t have.” Parker sighs, lets out a shaky breath. 

Connor tries very hard to stay still. To stay quiet, to not let them know he’s here. 

He goes to leave but stops when Parker continues. 

“Jenny, who’s Evan?”

Connor bites his lip hard to stop himself from crying. 

Jenny’s voice is dangerously even. “What do you know about Evan?”

Parker sounds… tired. “He… Connor kept… kept saying his name. When we were… you know.”

Jenny lets out a shaky laugh. “Jesus.”

There’s a pause. “Who is he, Jenny?”

Another pause. “His ex,” Jenny says softly. “He killed himself. In February.”

“Fuck.”

“On Connor’s birthday.”

“Holy shit.”

“I told you to stay away from him,” Jenny says, her voice harsh. “I… look, I know you think he’s cute and you like that he’s a book nerd like you, but… I told you not to go there, I _told_ you-”

“If you’d told me _why,_ then maybe this wouldn’t have happened,” Parker counters, sounding… disgusted. “Fuck, Jenny.”

“He’s messed up,” she continues. “He’s really, really fucking messed up, and I knew he’d hurt you, I knew it.” She sighs. “You’re too good for him.”

Another pause. “You said he was your friend,” Parker says, not quite accusingly, but… definitely questioning. “You talked about him all the time, you…”

“I shouldn’t have invited you. I shouldn’t have even come to this party, I should have known it would get all fucked up.”

“Next time maybe tell me the whole story rather than just give vaguely ominous warnings,” Parker says, sounding more than a little pissed off. 

“Next time maybe fucking _listen_ to me when I tell you to stay away from someone.”

Connor’s heard enough. 

He heads back to his room. Picks up Parker’s shoes and socks, throws them outside the door, then locks it. 

Climbs back into bed. 

Screams into his pillow until he finally falls asleep. 

* * *

“Evan, sweetheart, where are you going?” His mom shouted after him. He was walking down the street as fast as his feet would carry him. 

He ignored her. He kept walking. Walking and walking and walking. 

“Evan, baby, please, slow down -”

He ignored his mother. Turned arbitrarily down a side street. Kept walking until he saw a bar. 

He strode inside and grabbed a seat. The bartender looked surprised by his appearance, as if he had shown up out of nowhere. Evan realized with a jolt that he recognized the bartender. 

Zak. 

He had bartended the party to celebrate Connor taking over the Little Book Nook. 

He had flirted with Connor, Evan remembered. He’d been a little jealous, even though they weren’t together. 

Zak didn’t seem to remember him. Or at least he didn’t say. “What can I get you?”

“Whisky please,” Evan said. 

“Gotcha,” He said, pouring Evan a double and setting it in front of him. Evan drank it in one go.

“Please keep them coming.”

Zak nodded. He poured Evan another. He drank it. Zak poured another. 

A moment later the door to the bar opened and Evan’s mother walked inside. She looked… 

She’d been crying, but she straightened her shoulders and had a seat beside him. 

“What are you drinking?” She asked. 

“Whisky,” Evan said. 

His mom nodded. She looked at the bartender. “I’ll have the same. Please.”

Evan looked at her wordlessly. She didn’t drink whisky. Wine sometimes. He’d seen her have a gin and tonic in the past. But not whisky. 

They drank two drinks in silence. 

No words. 

Just breathing and drinking. 

“Baby, I’m so sorry,” His mom said after a while. 

“I’m not talking about this,” Evan replied dully. He finished his drink. Zak poured another. 

“Connor is going to die,” His mom said, her voice quiet, solemn. “And I am so sorry. I know how much you love him. It’s not fair.”

Evan shook his head. “I’m not talking about this.”

“Sweetheart,” His mom said. “You need to -”

“No,” He said severely, looking at his mother sharply. “I don’t. If I talk to you about this, I’m… I’ll start to lose it. I’ll lose it and I’ll… I’ll never get it back. So I am not talking about this. It’s drinking time.”

His mom’s eyes looked glassy. Like she might cry. 

Evan turned his attention back to his drink. Finished it. Appreciated the way the whisky burned on the way down. Appreciated how with each drink he felt it less. Got a little more numb. 

He didn’t want to feel this. 

He refused to feel it. 

He kept drinking. 

His mom stopped after a while. Just sat there with him until the bartender cut him off. 

“Let’s get you home,” She said gently. 

Evan nodded. He let her gently guide him out of the bar. It was cooler outside now; it had rained. The air felt cleaner somehow, as if the rain had… washed away some of the stickiness of the summertime air. 

Evan felt like crying. 

His mom squeezed his shoulder. “Give me a cigarette,” She said. 

“What?” Evan said, bewildered. He’d never told her. He’d never ever told her. 

“I know,” She said. “When I came to visit after you sat the bar, you went to the pharmacy to buy some aspirin and… I know baby.”

“You don’t…”

“I quit when I was pregnant,” She said. “And picked it back up when your dad left. And quit again when you were ten.”

Evan nodded. 

Went into his pocket and pulled out the pack of cigarettes. He gave her one. Pulled one out for himself. He lit hers first. Then his own. 

His chest ached on the inhale. It hurt. It burned. 

It was easier, Evan thought, to hurt himself in these little ways. 

More tolerable. 

Like he could space it out over a few hours or days, and it would all feel less…

He exhaled smoke. Evan’s mom took his hand and squeezed. They stood there on the street corner, smoking their cigarettes down to the filter. They dropped their butts into the trash. 

Evan began to cry. 

To cry and cry and cry, like he would never stop. 

He thought he might never stop. 

Connor was going to die. 

He was going to die. In three days the love of his life would be dead and Evan wanted to go with him. He couldn’t imagine his life without him. He couldn’t do it, not without Connor. 

It hurt too much. 

* * *

It’s a few days into July when Connor gets an email he’s not expecting. 

It takes him a few read-throughs to figure out what the fuck it’s saying. 

_Hi Connor i have another theory and time to test it next weekend if you are free and interested there is a community college in New Jersey who have agreed to let me use their lab I have attached information about the procedure and consent forms for you to go over please note there is more risk attached to this one but from what you have said you are willing to try apologies for being out of touch i believe this will work based on feedback from the prior theory and what you said was successful i know you are anxious to get back so i trust you will reply promptly to schedule the next experiment_

_Dr Joshua Weekes, PhD_

He just stares at the screen for a long time. 

Another theory. 

The doctor has another theory. 

Connor looks at the attached information and feels his blood run cold. It’s… 

Fuck, this is insane. 

This is fucking insane, there’s no way any sane person would agree to this. 

But then again, he’s not a sane person, is he?

This is…

It’s dangerous and stupid and reckless and potentially suicidal, but Connor’s desperate. 

He’ll try anything if he means he might see Evan again. 

Even if he doesn’t make it. 

Even if he dies in the process. 

He just wants to see him again. 

Even if just for a moment. 

He replies to the email immediately. 

_I’m in. When and where?_

It’s obvious he can’t tell Andi or Jenny about this. Andi would freak out, would call his sister or his mom and try to stop him, try to pull the plug on the whole thing, and he can’t…

He can’t let her do that. 

He just can’t. 

He rereads through the information, over and over again, and it doesn’t change. 

His eyes keep catching on the same words. 

_Near-death experience._

_Stopping the heart._

_Induced hypothermia._

It’s all insanity. Complete insanity. There’s no way a sane person would go along with any of this, but here he is, walking into madness with his eyes wide open, all in the name of getting back to a reality he might have imagined from the very beginning. 

It occurs to Connor that he might have completely lost it. 

That none of this might actually be real. 

That he might already be dead. 

He supposes that if he’s already dead, there’s no harm in any of this. 

No harm at all. 

* * *

The day after Connor’s sister told Evan she was going to let his boyfriend die, Evan woke up with a hangover and his mom sitting at the foot of his bed. She’d probably been watching him sleep again, Evan thought. 

“Good morning,” She said. “I made coffee.” His mom set a mug on his bedside table. 

“Thank you,” Evan said, sitting up and holding the mug with numb fingers. 

“I thought we could go to the hospital,” Heidi said. “But I thought maybe before we go, you could call your therapist? Marcia, you said her name is? I think… It might be good for you to talk to her. It might help.”

Evan took a sip of his coffee. “I fired her.”

His mom looked alarmed. “When?”

“Last week,” Evan said. “Because she said I… She said I needed to prepare myself and I didn’t want to believe it.”

His mom nodded. “I’m sure if you called her -”

“No,” Evan said. “I can’t… I’m not sure I can go back there.”

His mom opened her mouth, her face twisted, like she was going to protest, but then she nodded. “Okay.”

Evan sipped his coffee. “I’m not going to the hospital.” 

His mom blinked in surprise. “Baby, I know it’s hard, but -”

“No,” Evan said. “I can’t… Other people should. I can’t. I’m not going to the hospital. I don’t want to… I can’t be there.”

“Evan…” His mom said. 

“He saved my life,” Evan found himself saying to her. “Connor. He saved my life.”

His mom looked confused. 

“When I was taking the bar,” Evan said, his voice shaking. “When I was in the middle of the bar… I wasn’t doing so well?”

His mom nodded, her eyes huge and terrified. 

Evan cleared his throat. “I’m downplaying it. I. It was bad. It was really bad. I couldn’t… I couldn’t see. I couldn’t see how I was supposed to… do this. Do anything really. I was… The exam was. Brutal. And I was exhausted.” He sniffed, surprised that he still had the ability to produce tears about this when there were so many other, worse things he could be crying over. “And Sabrina got engaged to someone else… I just. I couldn’t see it. I couldn’t see how I was supposed to pass the bar, how I was supposed to become a lawyer. Become a person who was… worth something.” 

“Oh sweetheart.”

Evan took a shuddery breath. “I went to the - there’s this liquor store not too far away. I saw that Sabrina was engaged on facebook and I just. I wanted a drink. I wanted a drink but I didn’t have anything in the apartment so I went to the liquor store. To buy something to drink. Connor was there… He’s friends with the guy who runs the store.”

His mom shook her head. “You told me you were… you said you were going out for a drink, you said -”

“I lied,” Evan said. “I lied to you. I… I went to go buy some liquor and I decided I was going to. I was going to… I was going to kill myself.”

His mom had started to cry. “Baby…”

“I… I thought I’d lost it. That I had cracked, because this guy from high school was just. In the liquor store? I thought he was.. I thought I was imagining him.” He sucked in a deep breath. “He followed me home. I guess I was… I was obvious? I dunno. I still don’t know why he followed me home. But he did. He followed me home. Up… up onto the roof of the building.” Evan wiped his face. “I was going to jump.”

His mother was crying. She crying she was in pain he was hurting her he was hurting her always hurting her. 

“He talked me down,” Evan said. “Connor. He talked me down from the roof. I really thought. I really thought he wasn’t real. I was out of my mind, I was completely crazy. And I… He saved my life. Connor talked me down. He saved me.” He shook his head. “It was his birthday? I didn’t realize. It was his birthday.”

“Oh my god, baby, I am so sorry… I didn’t know. How did I not know?”

Evan took a shaky breath. “I’m sorry. I’m so sorry.” He blinked a few times. “Connor saved my life. He saved my life and I… I can’t go to the hospital. I can’t go to the hospital because I owe him my life and I. I can’t return the favor. I can’t save him. I can’t do anything… anything but watch. I can’t do anything but watch the love of my life die. So no. I’m not going to the hospital. I’m not going to the hospital to watch him die, mom. I’m not going to do that. I can’t… I can’t.”

His mom was crying. She looked horrified, wrecked, so broken. 

He’d broken her. 

Her life would really, genuinely have been better without him in it. He knew that. Evan knew that, he viscerally knew it. 

But that wasn’t something a child could tell their parent. It wasn’t something Evan could bring himself to tell her. It wasn’t fair to her. 

He wasn’t fair to her. 

“How do I… sweetheart, how do I help?” His mom asked, sounding so helpless, so broken. 

“I just… I can’t mama. I can’t right now. I just want to go back to sleep. Can I do that? Can I go back to sleep?” He wiped his face. “I just… I can’t do this.”

“Of course sweetheart,” His mom said. She smoothed back his hair. “You rest.”


	26. TWENTY-FIVE

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> "This is the stuff you do when you love people."

Connor knows, somewhere deep inside, that this is the last week he’ll spend in this reality. 

He knows, because if this experiment doesn’t kill him, he’ll do it himself. 

It’s decided. There’s no going back now. Either he gets back to Evan, or he dies trying. 

He wants it to be the former. 

He desperately wants it to be the former. 

It’s not like in high school where he just couldn’t fathom the idea of living any longer. It’s not that. He wants to live, he really fucking _wants_ to live, but not here. 

Not like this. 

Not anymore. 

He tries to make sure he’s acting normal, because he knows Andi’s watching, Andi’s keeping a careful eye on him, trying to make sure he’s okay. He does his best but he can still tell that Andi’s figured something out, that she’s wary, she’s careful, she’s watching him carefully, scared he’s going to do something stupid, and there’s no real way to get her off his back other than just… keep going as usual. 

It’s just a week. 

He can get through a week. 

His mom calls him out of the blue on Monday night. She sounds sad. She asks him all sorts of questions about how he’s doing, how the bookstore is going, if he’s having a nice summer, and it’s only after the well of small talk has dried up that she finally tells him the reason she called. 

“I heard from a friend of mine on the school board at your old high school that a scholarship has been created for promising students from low-income families,” says Connor’s mom, her voice sombre. “There are funds to help them cover the costs of applying for college and get through their freshman year, no matter where in the country they go.”

“That’s cool,” says Connor, not sure why his mom is telling this or why she sounds so sad. 

“I couldn’t find out who put forward the money,” his mom continues, “because they wanted to remain anonymous. But… honey, the scholarship is in Evan Hansen’s name.”

Connor feels his heart drop violently. 

He doesn’t know what to say. 

He doesn’t know what the fuck to say, how the fuck to react to this, and he can feel his eyes sting with tears, his throat well up at the sudden reminder that this is where he is, stuck in a universe where the love of his life is dead. 

Where Evan killed himself, and Connor didn’t stop him. 

“Honey.”

Connor clears his throat. “That’s… that’s really nice,” he manages to choke out. “Evan… he and his mom didn’t have a lot of money growing up, I know it was… it was hard.” He swallows, hard. “I wonder who it was.”

“All I know is that it’s a former student,” says his mom quietly. “Rumor has it, a classmate of yours. I have no idea who - they wanted to remain anonymous. Wanted the scholarship to be about Evan’s memory, not about them.”

Connor honestly has no fucking clue who’d have the money to throw at that. No fucking clue. He barely remembers anyone from high school, he’s tried to block it out, but now he’s desperately searching his memories, trying to recall someone, anyone, who might have seen Evan, who might have cared, who might have the means and the inclination to do something kind, something significant, something to honor his memory. 

But he has no idea. 

No fucking idea. 

As he ends the call with his mom, Connor thinks to himself that this is just another way he’s failed that man he loves. 

He has lunch with Zoe on Wednesday. They arrange to meet at the deli around the corner from her work on his lunch break. It’s only when he arrives that he remembers that this deli isn’t just near her work, it’s near where Evan works. 

Where Evan works in another universe. 

Where he didn’t get the chance to work, because in this universe, he died before he could finish the bar. 

There are two men in suits standing at the counter, and Connor’s heart does this weird leap when he recognizes them as Evan’s workmates, Charles and Asher. They’re talking, but they’re holding themselves at a distance from each other, and Connor remembers that they’d broken up, they hadn’t gotten back together until October, then they’d gotten engaged at the firm’s Christmas party. 

Evan was supposed to stand up at their wedding. 

They don’t even know Evan. 

They never got the chance. 

Asher notices Connor staring and looks at him, tilting his head a little like he’s trying to figure something out, and Connor lets out an embarrassed laugh. 

“Sorry,” he says, as clearly as he can. “I thought… you look like someone I know. Sorry.”

Charles kind of rolls his eyes, and then the two of them turn around, placing their orders, and Connor slinks into a seat in the corner and waits for his sister to show up. 

She’s there about a minute later, her hair in a sensible ponytail, wearing a cherry red blazer. She smiles awkwardly when she sees him. 

“Hi,” she says. 

“Hi.”

“This place does good potato salad?” she offers. 

As they head to the counter to order, Asher and Charles leave without giving Connor a second glance. 

Soon he and Zoe have food and they’re sitting near the window, keeping up a vague but impersonal conversation. 

Connor hates it. 

He hates it he hates it he hates it. 

He’s been here long enough. He should have…

He should have tried harder with Zoe. 

There’s no excuse. 

He’s just an asshole. A self-involved asshole, who doesn’t care who he hurts. 

The whole plan is seeming less and less inevitable. 

He stabs at his potato salad, then takes a bite. 

“Are you okay?” Zoe asks suddenly. 

Connor blinks. “I’m fine.”

Zoe sighs. “Really, though. It’s just… we haven’t… we don’t really do lunch? And Andi said you’d been… weird. That she’s been worried.”

Fuck. 

This is the last thing he needs. 

“I’m okay,” he says, putting a little more strength into the words. “I… Andi worries too much, but I’m fine.”

Zoe bites her lip. Blinks a few times. “It’s just, this is so out of the blue, you inviting me to lunch. She’s worried… she said she’s worried you’re going to hurt yourself.”

Connor tries to keep his expression blank. Fights for it. 

“I figured it was bullshit that we live in the same city and never talk,” he says after a moment. “And you… you looked after me. After… on Evan’s birthday, you visited and we hung out when Mom visited and...” He sighs. “I just wanted things to be okay, but if you don’t want to I can just go-”

“No!” Zoe practically yells. She grabs his hand. “I want things to be okay, too, I just… Andi’s worried and it… it freaked me out. I…” She lets out a shaky breath. “I know that I fucked up, too, okay? When Mom and Dad split up, I blamed you and I… that was shitty of me, it wasn’t your fault.”

“Wasn’t it?” Connor can’t help but ask, hating how bitter his voice is.

“It wasn’t your fault,” she repeats firmly. “They weren’t happy. And you were sick.”

They sit there in silence for a while. 

She squeezes his hand. 

“Maybe we could do brunch in the weekend?” she says, something a little desperate in her voice. “I’ve only got a half an hour break now, but in the weekend we could… talk. Really talk.”

Connor closes his eyes. 

Opens them again. 

“I’ve got something on Saturday,” he says. “But Sunday? There’s this diner around the corner from my apartment. I’ll text you the address.”

Zoe smiles. 

Looks relieved. 

Connor tries not to let it show that his heart is beating way too fast. 

He’ll text her on Saturday, before he… 

Before. 

Postpone. 

Cancel. 

Something. 

She’ll be fine. 

Zoe is always fine. 

* * *

When Evan woke up, his mom wasn’t around. She’d left him a note on a post-it saying she was with Cynthia, helping to sort out some details, but to call her when he woke up. 

He ignored it. 

He couldn’t handle talking to her. 

He mindlessly switched on Netflix. He arbitrarily chose something mindless to watch and sat there on the sofa in his pajamas drinking from a bottle of vodka. 

He remembered, suddenly, the first time he had paid attention to Connor’s tattoos. In particular, the melting clock tattoo on his shoulder. Evan had gently traced the lines with his fingers. He had been a little surprised to learn Andi had been the one tattoo him. 

But he supposed she was an artist. 

Evan liked the tattoo. It was sort of beautiful, really. 

Connor was beautiful. 

Evan had hesitantly said, “I couldn’t… I don’t think I’m brave enough for a tattoo. Not really.”

“They’re not for everyone,” Connor said. His eyes were following the movement of Evan’s fingers, watching carefully. “Doesn’t mean you’re not brave, though.”

“I’m not brave,” Evan said. Because he wasn’t. He just wasn’t brave.

And Connor had taken Evan’s hand and squeezed it suddenly. “Sure you are,” His voice steady, sure. “You’re still here, aren’t you?"

Evan sniffed, staring at the television. 

Connor was wrong. 

He was wrong. About Evan. 

Evan wasn’t brave. He was not brave in the slightest. 

That was why he wasn’t at the hospital. If he were brave he would face it. 

But he wasn’t. He was a fucking coward. 

So he watched Netflix and drank. 

An hour passed. Or two. 

Someone buzzed his apartment. 

Evan ignored it. 

The buzzer sounded again. 

Evan sighed, ignoring it again. 

A few minutes later, someone was pounding on the door to his apartment. He was going to ignore. 

Evan was going to ignore it. 

Until he couldn’t. 

He got up and pulled open the door, expecting Sabrina or something, barking, “WHAT?”

Zoe was on the other side of the door. In a loose-fitting pair of jeans with doodles of stars on the cuffs. 

“Oh,” Evan said. 

“I spent the morning on the phone with a funeral home,” Zoe said. Her voice was raw. “I spent the morning planning my brother’s funeral. My only brother’s funeral. Because he decided to put me in charge of unplugging him. So I’ve had to hear my mom crying about the suit she’s going to put in him when they bury him? They picked it out for Sabrina’s wedding. And you’re… you’re not there.”

Evan swallowed uncomfortably. 

“You’re not there. You should be there, you should… He’d. No fuck that. I don’t know if he’d want you there or not because he’s in a coma. He’s in a coma and you… You’re my family now. Connor made you my family. And my parents? They’re going to tear each other apart over this. And I cannot… I can’t unplug my only brother alone, Evan. I can’t kill him, I can’t decide to listen to his dumb fucking will alone. And I’m doing this alone. Because you’re not there. You are the love of Connor’s life and you… This is the stuff you do when you love people. You… you pull the plug when they put in in their will, you plan fucking funerals...”

“I know -”

“You need to be there,” Zoe said, her eyes glittering with unshed tears. “I need you there. I need to… I can’t do this by myself and my parents. He was right, not to pick them, because they… they can’t. So I need you.”

“I can’t,” Evan said. “I… Zoe I can’t.”

“You have to,” Zoe said. “If you love him like you say -”

He shook his head. “I can’t, Zoe, I just… Look at me,” He said. “I can’t help anyone like this. Not like this. I’m no good to you, to Connor… I’m no good like this.”

“That is such bullshit,” Zoe said. “It’s bullshit. You are not the only person hurting Evan. You don’t get to disengage because this isn’t what you signed up for. He needs you.”

“He’s not there Zoe,” Evan said. “He… It wouldn’t matter. It doesn’t matter. None of this shit matters.”

“What about to me?” She said. “It matters to me. I am not okay right now. I’m losing my brother this week and I only got him back a few years ago and… I am not fine. I am not okay. So it fucking matters to me.”

He just looked at her.

“Were you planning to just never talk to me again? After Connor dies?”

Evan couldn’t answer. 

Because he had no plan. 

Because there was no after. 

There was no after. Once Connor died…?

Evan saw nothing. 

He couldn’t see anything after. 

“Are you… Are you safe?” Zoe asked Evan. “Are you in a safe place right now?”

“How can you even ask me that?” Evan said, his voice brittle, thin. 

Zoe pulled Evan into an unexpectedly tight hug then, her arms wrapping around him. “You need to hold on. Please. I need you to hold on. I can’t… I can’t lose you both. Please don’t make me lose both of you.”

“Okay,” Evan said. He didn’t know if he meant it. 

“Come to the hospital,” Zoe said. “Please.”

Evan shook his head. “I… Fine,” He said. He lied. He couldn’t do it… but he couldn’t stand the heartbroken look on Zoe’s face. So he acted as if he was relenting. “Just let me… I need to do a few things? Clean myself up a little… Shower?”

Zoe nodded. “Yeah. Of course.” She hugged him again. “I’ll see you there?”

“Yeah.”

She left. 

Evan closed the door. 

Went back to the sofa. 

Turned the television back on.

And didn’t move.


	27. TWENTY-SIX

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> "We were supposed to have more time."

Connor wakes up at 8 in the morning and calls a Lyft. 

To New Jersey. 

The app tells him it’s going to cost a ridiculous amount of money, but he doesn’t fucking care. 

It’s not like it matters now. 

He’s careful when he leaves the apartment, trying not to wake Andi, who’s been up all night painting something. She’s passed out on the sofa, topless and covered in paint, and he can’t help but stop and watch her for a moment before he leaves. 

She’s a good friend. 

Better than he deserves. 

He really, really fucking hopes that this Andi is going to be okay. 

She has to be. 

When he gets downstairs, the Lyft driver is already waiting for him. He seems absolutely elated to be getting such a large fare and tries to start a conversation with Connor, but quickly gathers that he has no interest in talking and just turns on the radio. 

Connor looks out the window and watches as the city rushes by. 

He’s…

He’s as ready as he’ll ever be. 

He doesn’t know what’s going to happen. Last time he tried to get back, he hadn’t thought it through, hadn’t really planned for it, but this time…

He’s trying not to burn down this universe’s Connor’s life, as best he can. 

No more than he already has, at least.

He’s printed out everything he knows about alternate realities and death loops. Written a detailed account of what happened to him, what he’s been doing over the past nearly five months. All the people he’s talked to, what they know about him, who they think he is…

If this universe’s Connor comes back, he wants him to have something to go on. 

It’s the least he can fucking do. 

There’s a thick envelope, full of information, as well as a handwritten letter, which Connor hopes will convince the other version of him that this is real, this is actually fucking real. 

If the other him can recognize his own handwriting, then it should confirm that this is real.

_Dear Connor Murphy,_

_I’m you. Well, a version of you. It’s all really fucking confusing and I won’t bore you with the details here, because there are pages and pages of information for you to read and there’s no point repeating things. If you’re reading this, the chances are that you’re really fucking confused. The last thing you probably remember is your 27th birthday, right? You got super high with Eddie and Margot? Andi made garlic bread and threw you a party full of people you don’t actually really know? Hopefully this is ringing a bell._

_When you read this, it’s July. It’s months later. A lot has happened, and you weren’t there for it. But I was. I’m a version of you from another reality, but in the future, and apparently I’m in a fucking coma in my reality so somehow I got an all-expenses-paid trip to this one. To your one._

_The big difference between my reality and yours?_

_Evan Hansen._

_Yeah, that one. The guy from high school with the broken arm?_

_You were supposed to meet him again on your 27th birthday. You were supposed to save his life. And he was supposed to save yours. But somehow, things went wrong, and he killed himself._

_That might not mean anything to you, but it does to me._

_It means_ everything _to me._

_So I’m going back to the reality where Evan Hansen and I saved each other. Where we fell in love. Where we’re alive and happy and together and everything’s okay, because I can’t stay here. I wish I could say that I know that you’ll read this, that I know you’ll get back to your life safely, but I honestly don’t know. And I’m sorry. I’m really fucking sorry._

_But if, by some miracle, you end up reading this, do me a favor - don’t let Evan die in vain. I’ve written down everything I know about him and it’s in this envelope. This universe still has people who loves him in it, people who miss him. His mom. His mom, who needs the comfort of knowing that she wasn’t the only one who loved him. The only one who saw him._

_If she contacts you and wants to talk to you about him, you don’t have to talk to her if you really don’t want to, but please, be kind and give her something. Give her something to remember him. There’s plenty in this envelope, in there with some kind of explanation of the fucked-up quirk of the universe that made this whole thing possible. Heidi Hansen is a really fucking amazing person, and she deserves some kind of comfort. Don’t be a prick. Give her_ something _._

_Another couple of things you need to know. Andi, your roommate. She’s the best fucking friend you’ll ever have. She knows exactly what happened, she knows all of this, and she wants you back. You might not have realized you meant that much to her. I sure as fuck didn’t. But she chose you, out of thirty-three applicants for your room, and that’s something. She’s incredible, and she deserves to have you back. So don’t take her for granted._

_And Zoe. She loves you. She loves you so much._

_If you’re reading this, she wants to have brunch with you tomorrow._

_I’ve texted to reschedule, just in case you don’t make it, but if you do…_

_Reschedule. Please._

_See her. Talk to her._

_She’s not your enemy. She never has been. And your life will be so much better if you just talk to her. It’ll be different. I swear it will._

_You’re me, the me I was, but I’m not you. Not anymore. And I want you to have a chance to be better._

_It can be so much better, Connor. You just have to let it._

_Be brave. And don’t be an asshole._

_Sincerely,_

_Me._

* * *

Evan was still on the couch when his mom got back late that night. 

She frowned when she saw him, and he told her to take his room and stayed there. He didn’t sleep. He just… he watched basically an entire season of Grey’s Anatomy. Mattie got home around four-thirty in the morning and sat with him for a while. “I’m so sorry,” She said. 

He nodded. 

“Are you going to go tomorrow?” She asked. “I stopped in for a while. Mariah was there? And Sabrina? They both asked after you.”

Evan sniffed. “I can’t,” He said. “I can’t do this. I can’t be there… I can’t see all of these people coming to say their goodbyes. I can’t… I can’t watch him die.”

Not again. 

“Babe,” She gently. “You love him. I know this must be… excruciating.” Mattie patted his hand. “But trust me, you want to take your chance to say goodbye. Believe me. You’ll regret it if you don’t.”

She went to bed after that. 

Evan didn’t move. 

Time passed, in stops and starts. Slowly, then all at once. 

Suddenly it was morning. 

His mother left after begging him to come with her. 

He stayed put. 

Suddenly was afternoon. 

Then evening. 

Evan got up. 

He found himself shuffling down the stairs. He smoked a cigarette in his pajamas, dirty and wrinkled. 

Mr. Abrahamson walked up the sidewalk toward him. He frowned at the sight of Evan. Evan’s hand holding the cigarette trembled almost violently. 

“I heard,” Mr. Abrahamson said. “About your boyfriend. Alex, she told me. I am so sorry he’s not well.”

Evan dragged on his cigarette. “He’s dying. He’s… Tomorrow they’re going to take him off the ventilator. He’s going to die.”

Mr. Abrahamson looked horrified. “I’m so sorry.”

Evan shrugged. 

“Alav ha-shalom,” Mr. Abrahamson said, so quietly Evan barely heard it. 

Evan almost laughed. “He’s Catholic. Well. Sort of. He grew up Catholic.”

Mr. Abrahamson put his hand on Evan’s shoulder and gave it a squeeze. “I’m so sorry, Evan.”

“Thanks, Mr. Abrahamson.”

He shook his head. “Arthur. _Please_. Call me Arthur.”

Mr. Abrahamson stood outside with Evan until he finished his cigarette. Then Evan held the door open for the old man. 

He walked back upstairs. Back to the couch. 

Evan couldn’t feel this. 

He couldn’t…

He must have fallen asleep. 

Because it was morning. 

The last morning. 

Evan’s mom shook his shoulder almost roughly. “Come on,” She said to him. “Get up. Go take a shower. You’re coming to the hospital with me.”

Evan didn’t move. 

“Sweetheart, I cannot fathom how hard this is for you but… You need to be strong for Connor today. You need to be brave for him.”

“I’m not brave,” Evan said meekly. 

“You are,” His mom said. “You are. So go take a shower and we’ll go. We’ll go and… Honey, trust me, you want the chance to say goodbye.”

He shook his head. “I… I can’t do it.”

“You can,” She said, that sort of manic seize the day attitude she used to put on when he was a teenager creeping into her voice. “You can. You have to. Evan… Connor is the person who you love. And I know how much he loves you back. He needs you today. Don’t make him go through this without you.”

Evan hung his head. “I can’t… I’m not. I’m not strong enough to do this, and I know. I know that makes me a coward and-and a monster. I know what that makes me but I… I can’t go there and watch him die. I can’t. I don’t want… It’s not fair.” He sniffed. “He left me to do this by myself and I can’t. I can’t do this without him, I can’t do it alone.”

His mom wrapped her arms around him, hugging him tightly. “You’re not alone baby. You’re not. I’m here. Alex is here. Connor’s family… Sabrina? We’re here for you. You don’t have to go through this alone.”

He just cried. “We were supposed to be together,” Evan whispered, his voice jagged and broken. “We were supposed to…We were supposed to have more time. I love him. I love him so much sometimes it almost… it hurts. I was supposed to spend my life with him. I don’t want it without him, I don’t want it.”

Evan’s mom held him for a long time. Until he ran out of tears. Until was just a shaking mess. 

“I love you Evan,” She said. “I love you more than anything. I am so so fucking sorry about Connor, baby. I am so sorry.”

He nodded. 

“You love him like I love you,” His mom said. “Fiercely. With everything you’ve got. And Connor… he needs that today. He needs you and… Evan. Baby. We don’t know what comes after all of this, but I _know_ that boy deserves to leave this world knowing how much he was loved by you. You can help make it a little bit easier for him to rest. Okay? You need to help him do that.”

Evan wiped his eyes and nodded. “Okay.”

“Okay.”

He got up. 

He showered, his fingers numb and hands shaking. 

He got dressed, in jeans and a t-shirt and a hoodie. 

The hoodie was Connor’s. He’d borrowed it and never returned it. 

He took a breath. 

“Okay. Let’s go.”


	28. TWENTY-SEVEN

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> "I love you. I will love you forever, I will love you until I can’t anymore."

Dr. Weekes seems surprised when Connor shows up alone. For a little while, at least. Then something in his expression shifts and he gives Connor a grim smile. 

“You didn’t tell your friends this time, did you?” 

Connor shakes his head.

Dr. Weekes nods. Rakes his hand through thinning hair. “Probably just as well. This one… it could be… difficult.”

“Yeah,” Connor mumbles. He pulls a thick wad of paper out of his bag, then hands it to Dr. Weekes. “Already signed the paperwork. I’m ready when you are.”

Dr. Weekes looks at the paper, nods again, then puts it on the desk. 

And just looks at Connor for a moment. 

Connor frowns. “What?”

“When I was six years old I took a shit under the slide in the school playground.”

Connor wrinkles his nose. “Gross.”

“This kid in my class, Peter - he tripped and fell in it,” Dr. Weekes continues. “And everyone thought it was his shit, even though he kept saying it wasn’t.” He looks… Connor can’t fucking decipher his expression. “They called him Poopy Peter for the rest of elementary school, and in middle school. Pretty sure it followed him to high school, as well.” 

“Why are you telling me this?”

“I’ve never told anyone this,” says Dr. Weekes. “Ever.”

“So… why are you telling me?”

Dr. Weekes looks at Connor. “When you get back to your reality, find me and tell me what happened. And tell me that story so I’ll believe you.”

Connor has… no fucking idea what to think about that. 

“Why didn’t you tell me about this during the first experiment?” he asks. “Did you… what, did you know it wasn’t going to work?”

“I didn’t think about it,” Dr. Weekes admitted. “I… I handled it poorly, the first time around.”

“Yeah, no shit.”

“It’s going to work this time,” he says, looking like he might actually believe that. 

Maybe. 

“Sure,” says Connor. 

Dr. Weekes opens his mouth, then closes it. 

Looks conflicted. 

It’s just pissing Connor off. “What?”

“Does anyone know where you are today?”

Connor shakes his head. 

“That’s probably for the best.”

“What,” Connor says dully, “in case I don’t survive?”

Dr. Weekes doesn’t answer. 

Instead, he gestures for Connor to follow him into a smaller room attached to the one they’re in. It’s fucking freezing. In the center of the room, there’s a bathtub full of ice. 

Connor feels sick just looking at it. 

He remembers the bathtub he almost died in in high school.

It was bigger than this one, full of nearly scorching water. 

It was supposed to make it hurt less. 

It was supposed to make slitting his wrists hurt less. 

Connor shivers involuntarily. 

“You’re not going to make me get naked again, right?”

“Not completely naked this time,” says Dr. Weekes. “Down to your boxers is fine.”

Connor kicks off his shoes. Takes off his shirt, unbuttons his jeans and just stands there for a moment. 

Then he takes off his socks and climbs into the bathtub.

It’s a shock to the system. Enough to leave him gasping. It’s been out for long enough that it’s starting to melt just a little, and the more it touches his warm skin, the more it melts, and Connor lays down the best he can until he’s almost submerged. 

He squints at the fluorescent lighting on the ceiling, closes his eyes tight, but it’s still too bright. His ears are underwater, so he can’t really hear anything, not really, but he thinks he hears Dr. Weekes asking a question and he mumbles out what he hopes is an affirmative answer. 

Then Dr. Weekes is leaning over him, blocking out the harsh light, and sticking electrodes to his chest. They’re cold, too, and kind of sticky, but he’s rapidly starting to lose sensation. 

It’s cold it’s cold it’s so fucking cold. 

When Dr. Weekes moves, it’s too bright again, and he closes his eyes tight tight tight tight, and it’s hard to breathe, it’s hard to breathe because he’s so fucking cold, he’s already panting for air when pain shoots through him. He feels his whole body move involuntarily and then there’s more pain shooting through, more and more, all he can feel is pain and cold and pain and cold and the lights are too bright it’s too bright everything is too too bright

Connor thinks that he’s dying.

Really dying this time. 

It’s not like every other time he’s died, it’s worse, it’s so much fucking worse, and it’s bright bright bright and cold cold cold and he can’t feel anything but pain anything but pain and it’s bright and it’s cold it’s too cold he’s too cold he’s drifting he’s drifting away and this is how it ends it’s how it ends it was always going to be how it ends with him dying alone he’s dying alone in a bathtub full of a ice with a stranger and he’s alone he’s alone he was always going to die alone he can’t breathe he can’t breathe he’s alone he’s alone he’s alone…

* * *

Evan had spent a good chunk of his youth wondering how it felt to know you were going to die. When he was very young, he’d work himself into these huge anxiety spirals thinking about the moments leading up to an execution. How it might feel to know your heart was pounding, your blood pumping, your eyes blinking and it would all stop in moments. 

He would fixate on how that would feel. 

Spent months in six grade terrified because he had these constant thoughts about how people led to the guillotine might have felt. Researched people who were executed, their last requests. 

It morphed into an obsession. He spent ages looking up historical accounts of people put to death. Poured over books and documentaries about victims of the Holocaust. Started having horrible nightmares. 

His mom put him in therapy that year. 

And he mostly just blocked it out. 

And he was thinking about that now. 

How really he hadn’t even thought of the pain of the people in the audience who loved the person selected to die.

How he’d never thought about how it would feel to be the executioner. 

As he walked on numb legs, not to his own death, but to Connor’s, Evan realized that walking to his own death had been significantly easier. 

It was so much easier to die than to be the one left alive. 

The three visitors at a time rule had been suspended it seemed as Evan and his mom walked into Connor’s room. Cynthia and Larry were embracing, both crying. Zoe was wiping her eyes, standing at the end of Connor’s bed. 

She pulled Evan into a hug when she saw him. 

When she released him, Evan took Connor’s hand. Placed a kiss to his knuckles. His skin was cold. So fucking cold. 

“We’re going to... The doctors are going to come and take him off the ventilator in a little while,” Zoe said. “I just signed off on everything. He’s been… They’ve given him some pain meds, so. He shouldn’t be in any pain? And Alex… She explained that once he’s off the ventilator it might not be right away. It could take some time.”

“Okay,” Evan said, still holding tight to Connor’s hand. 

“Do you… We can give you two some time?” Zoe said. “Just come and let me know? When you’re… when you’re ready?”

Evan nodded. 

The room slowly cleared, and Evan and Connor were alone. 

The machine keeping Connor breathing wrecked the stillness. It was practically deafening. Evan watched his face for a long time. Trying to memorize every detail. Knowing that soon enough they would start to blur and fade. 

“I love you,” He said, his voice shaking. Quiet. 

Connor didn’t respond. Obviously. 

“I uh…” Evan cleared his throat. “I doubt you can hear me. But. If you can… I love you. I am… I am so in love with you. I never thought… I thought I didn’t deserve something like this. Someone like you. And… and I probably don’t. I don’t deserve you but… You are the love of my life. You are the kindest person I’ve ever known. You. You changed everything for me. Everything.” 

He paused. 

Of course Connor didn’t reply. 

“I… this is unfair,” Evan went on. “Not to me. I… The universe has put a target on my back for misery and I don’t know why but that’s not… It’s unfair because you are the best person.” Evan wiped his eyes. “The best. Most stubborn. Caring. Loving. Beautiful, dorky, genius person. You… You are _everything_ , Connor. To me and to so many people. You… It should be me. Not you. The world shouldn’t have to lose you. It’s not fucking fair.”

He rested his head against their clasped hands. Tried to gather himself a little. “I am so sorry I can’t save you,” He said. “You saved me when I didn’t even want to be saved and I can’t save you back and I am so fucking sorry. I am so sorry I wasn’t here, that I was such a coward, that there were months that went by where I loved you and didn’t say. I am so sorry…. I am so sorry. Please forgive me. I should have been better for you. I… I love you. With everything I have. I love you…” 

He sat up straighter. 

“So I’m going to ask… beg, one last time. Connor… my love. Please. Please. Please can open your eyes? Can you wake up for me? I swear I will… I will do anything. Anything. Just please open your eyes?”

Evan searched Connor’s face, desperately, for anything. Any flicker of change, twitch of life, anything. 

But there was none to be found. 

Because Connor, the man he loved, the person who had changed his life, was gone. Was dead. This body was a shell, a relic, a reminder and nothing more. 

“Okay,” Evan said, nodding to himself. “That’s okay, love. That’s alright. You… You go. You rest. I love you, okay? I love you. I will love you forever, I will love you until I can’t anymore. You can go, and I’ll be here to help you through. I love you. You are so loved, so adored, by so many but… I love you. It’s okay. You can let go. It’s okay. I’ve got you.”

There was no change. 

And Evan couldn’t bear to wait here anymore. 

He leaned in and kissed Connor’s sunken, pale cheek. Whispered, “I love you I love you I love you I love you.” 

Then Evan stood up. 

Crossed the floor. 

He opened the door and Zoe stepped inside. She hugged Evan again. Called the doctors in. 

“Mom and dad, they… they said they can’t watch them take out the breathing tube,” Zoe said. 

Evan nodded. Stayed put. 

Alex and two other doctors arrived. They explained that they were turning off Connor’s heart monitor so that when his heart stopped beating, they wouldn’t have to hear it. 

“We’ll unhook the ventilator,” Alex explained. “And then give you some time with him.”

Zoe nodded. “Okay.” 

She took a seat in her chair. The one where she had sat for weeks and weeks. 

Evan sat beside her. 

“Okay,” Zoe said, her eyes puffy and voice frail. “Okay. It’s… It’s time.” 

* * *

Connor opens his eyes.

He isn’t alone. 

He can see Zoe, sitting in a chair, her eyes puffy and her nose red, and… there’s Evan. 

He can see Evan. 

He’s in jeans and a hoodie and he’s pale and he looks wrecked, just utterly ruined, and he’s been crying Connor can tell he’s been crying.

Connor doesn’t know if this is real, doesn’t know if he’s really here.

But at least he gets to see Evan.

Even if he’s dying.

There are noises and everything hurts and he thinks that he’s dying.

Evan looks at him.

Right at him.

“Connor!”

He doesn’t know if this is real he doesn’t know he doesn’t know but he _sees_ Evan, and Evan sees him, and Connor can hear someone yelling, someone yelling his name, and there’s a flurry of people and he’s trying to speak but he can’t and there are doctors and nurses and they’re doing something he doesn’t know what they’re doing he doesn’t know what’s happening there’s something in his throat and he’s still so cold so fucking cold and he’s shaking he’s shaking he’s shaking but he can’t see ice he can’t feel ice he can feel fabric he can feel wires he can feel warm air warm air and he’s breathing he’s breathing it in and he thinks this is real he thinks this is real he thinks that it worked it worked it worked

“It worked it worked it worked it worked-”

“Hey hey hey, Connor, look at me, I love you, focus on me, you’re okay, it’s going to be okay-”

“Evan,” he gasps out, his voice rough and raspy, almost unrecognizable to his own ears. “Evan, you’re here, you’re here.”

Evan’s crying, thick tears streaming down his face, and Connor wants to wipe them away, wants to touch him, and he reaches out and Evan takes his hand, holds it tight and his hands are warm, they’re so warm, they’ve always been warm Connor has always loved that Evan has such warm hands. 

“You’re freezing,” Evan murmurs, rubbing Connor’s hand between both of his. He looks at someone. “Why the _fuck_ is he so cold?”

There’s a flurry of conversation and movement and there are blankets being wrapped around him but the thing that really helps is that Evan’s arms are around him, holding him tight and he’s warm and alive and Connor breathes it in, breathes him in, and the chill that’s made a home in his bones starts to slowly thaw as he breathes in and out, ignoring the pain in his chest, ignoring how his body is still shaking, because Evan’s here, he’s here, he’s warm and he’s alive and Connor did it he did it he doesn’t understand what happened he doesn’t understand it at all but he’s home. 

He’s home. 

He’s _home._

* * *

Evan squeezed Zoe’s hand. 

Looked away. He didn’t think he could stand to watch the doctors working, unhooking and unplugging things…

He looked at Connor’s face instead. He wanted to focus on Connor’s face, focus only on him...

And then Connor opened his eyes. 

Evan was imagining this, he realized. 

But then Connor blinked. 

Looked straight at him. 

Right at him.

“Connor!”

Zoe took a breath, ready, Evan was sure, to tell him to keep it together but then she gasped, “Oh my god, Connor!”

“His eyes are open!” Evan said, shouted, whatever.

“Oh my god,” Alex said, looking startled, alarmed. 

There was this horrible noise, this gagging choking retching sound. 

“He’s fighting the intubation,” She said, her face so pale, but then she was leaning over Connor, placing her hands on either side of his face gently and said, “Oh my god, okay, Connor, hey, look it’s alright. It’s alright you have a tube down your throat that’s helping you breathe… That’s why it feels like you’re choking. Just relax, relaxing, I’m going to take it out, I’m going to take it out just hold on.”

Connor’s eyes were wild, frantic, flitting from side to side and Evan could see that he was shaking, he was shaking so hard and Alex got the tube out of his throat and Evan heard the best sound he had ever heard in his entire life. 

Connor’s voice. 

Scratchy and strange, whispering, “It worked it worked -” He was breathing too hard, too rapidly, and Evan knew immediately that he had to… do something. 

He looked at Connor and spoke, rushing, his voice pleading and desperate. “Hey hey hey, Connor, look at me, I love you, focus on me, you’re okay, it’s going to be okay-”

“Evan,” Connor’s weak voice barely carried the sounds. “Evan, you’re here, you’re here.” 

And Evan began to cry, to just openly cry, unable to stop it, unable to care. The doctors checked things, switching Connor’s heart monitor back on, and they were all talking over one another, just talking but Evan couldn’t focus on them.

Connor’s hand reached out toward him and Evan grabbed his hand and held it tightly in his own. “You’re freezing,” He said to Connor softly, rubbing Connor’s cold hand between his. Connor always had cold hands but this… this was wrong. This wasn’t right. He looked at the nearest doctor and barked, “Why the _fuck_ is he so cold?”

Alex took his temperature with a thermometer that she rubbed across his forehead. “Holy shit his temp’s down to eighty-nine degrees,” She said. “He has hypothermia. I need warming blankets in here, now!” She looked utterly bewildered. “How the hell does he have hypothermia he’s in a hospital what the fuck what the fuck?”

Alex wrapped blanket after blanket around Connor, and he was shaking so hard, he was shivering so much and Zoe, sobbing, asked Alex what the fuck was happening, and she said, “I have no fucking clue,” and Evan ignored all of it, ignored everything else and climbed into the hospital bed beside Connor, wrapping his arms tightly around him, holding him against his chest as he shook and shivered, pressing kiss after kiss to the top of Connor’s head and to his ice-cold cheek. “You’re alive,” he sobbed. “You’re alive and I love you I love you I love you.”


	29. TWENTY-EIGHT

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> “You’re really here?”

Everything is overwhelming for what feels like forever. It’s like he’s fading in and out, like things are happening in flashes. He’s being held tightly, as he slowly warms up, stops shaking, but it takes ages, it takes so long, and Evan is talking, telling him he loves him, and Connor does his best to reply but he doesn’t know if Evan can hear him. There are doctors and nurses constantly showing up to test something, to ask him questions, and he’s trying his best to speak, but he’s not sure he’s making sense because he’s cold he’s so cold. 

Then he’s sitting up in the hospital bed and the arms around him are gone and he’s covered in blankets and people are trying to talk to him and he’s overwhelmed. It takes every ounce of energy he has to follow what people are saying, to stay present in the moment he’s in, but Connor doesn’t want to miss it, he doesn’t want to miss any of it, because he’s home he’s home he made it home and everything’s okay now, everything has to be okay. 

His throat hurts and he’s dizzy and he’s still so fucking cold. He’s stopped shaking, but he still feels like there are tremors going right through him, and he’s exhausted. 

More tired than he can remember ever being in his life. 

But Connor refuses to go to sleep. He fucking refuses. 

In this universe, he’s been in a fucking coma. 

He’s not going back to sleep until he absolutely has to. He’s not missing out on any of this. 

Alex is there, and she looks almost as exhausted as he feels, and Connor knows instinctively that it’s not just the usual doctor tired, it’s something else, and it’s probably his fault. All of the other doctors do a lot of talking, a lot of theorizing, a lot of posturing, but Alex has never been one for bullshit. 

“Your appendix burst and the infection was bad,” she says, looking at him intently, this searching, calculating look like she can’t quite believe his eyes are open. “That was three weeks ago. You didn’t wake up after the surgery. Brain function was normal, you were breathing on your own until five days ago. We had to restart your heart. Put you on a ventilator.” Alex’s expression is grim. “Your will says no extraordinary measures, so Zoe had to make a decision. It was going to be today.”

Connor feels that like a knife to the heart. 

“Fuck.”

There are two other doctors in the room who start talking over Alex, talking about different treatments and theories and ideas and reasons why this all might have happened. 

Alex looks straight at Connor. 

“We don’t know why this happened to you, Connor. This is… there’s no explanation I can give you.”

Connor closes his eyes for the briefest of moments, then opens them and is so fucking relieved to see he’s still here. 

He’s got some theories. 

He’s got a pretty fucking good theory, actually, but it’s insane and it makes no sense and there’s no way anyone would believe him. 

No one would believe him. 

No one but Evan. 

Evan would. 

Evan…

“Evan?” Connor asks, his voice slurred as he tries to look around, tries not to sound as terrified as he feels. “He was… he was here?”

“Connor, oh my god, _Connor.”_

His mom is holding his hand, holding it tightly, and he hadn’t even noticed her come in, he hadn’t. Zoe’s still there, sitting by his bedside, and now so is his mom, and… his dad. 

Who’s crying. 

Sitting on the other side of his mom, wiping his face with a handkerchief, trying to clear his throat, trying to erase all evidence of emotion, and Connor…

He hasn’t seen his dad in months and months. 

“Evan stepped out so the three of us could see you,” Zoe says, her voice soft and reassuring. “He’s just outside. Heidi’s there with him.”

He’s with his mom. 

Evan’s with his mom, that’s…

That’s good, he should be with his mom, his mom misses him, his mom misses him so fucking much, she was so devastated in the other reality, she should be with him, they should be together, it’s okay it’s okay it’s okay. 

Evan’s alive and he’s with his mom and Connor’s home. 

It’s going to be okay. 

“I love you so much, sweetheart, it’s so good to see you,” his mom says, squeezing his hand even tighter, and she’s sobbing, and Connor squeezes back as best he can, even though his limbs feel like wet noodles right now. 

He’s exhausted. 

He’s so fucking tired. 

But he’s not falling asleep. 

He’s not fucking falling asleep. Not now. Not when he’s just gotten back. 

“Sorry,” Connor manages to croak out. “I didn’t… I’m sorry.”

His mom reaches out and smoothes back his hair. “You have nothing to be sorry about, sweetheart, none of this was your fault.”

“Didn’t…” Connor tries to clear his throat and starts coughing. His mom looks alarmed, frightened, but the coughing fit passes soon. “Don’t like that you were scared,” he manages to say after a while. 

His throat is really fucking sore. 

“You had a tube in to help you breathe,” says Zoe, her voice even and matter-of-fact. “No wonder your throat is sore.”

“Someone should be able to get you some water,” says his mom. 

“I can go get some ice chips,” his dad says, standing up. “They might soothe his throat-”

“No!” Connor yelps hoarsely. 

They all look at him, eyes wide. 

His mom is the first one to say anything. “Sweetheart-”

“Not ice,” Connor says immediately, realizing with horror that he’s starting to shake again, shake almost violently, and he’s so cold he’s so fucking cold and it’s hard to breathe it’s hard to breathe and then Zoe has her arm around him, holding a blanket around his shoulders tightly, and she’s counting slowly with him, steadily, and it takes a moment but he manages to get his breathing under control, he finally manages it, and he feels himself drifting.

Then forces himself back awake. Opens his eyes wide. 

His dad’s eyes are wide and scared as they meet Connor’s. He’s looking right at him, and it’s an expression Connor doesn’t think he’s seen for a very long time, maybe ever. 

“You’re okay,” says Larry Murphy, his voice firmer than the terror in his eyes would suggest. “You’re okay, son.”

“You need to rest,” says his mom, frowning a little. “Sweetheart, you look exhausted.”

“Slept too much already,” he jokes weakly. “Kids these days… terrible work ethic, right Dad?”

Larry’s eyes widen, and he lets out a sharp laugh that’s almost like a sob. “Millenials and their comas,” he replies, and the look on Connor’s mom’s face makes his dad look almost immediately guilty, but Zoe barely stifles a giggle, and Connor does actually laugh because that’s fucking funny but also really fucking dark and he didn’t think his dad had it in him, he genuinely didn’t. 

“Wanna say something about… guacamole and my apartment,” Connor says, his words coming out in a slurred, scratchy rush. “Too tired.”

“If you need to sleep, you should sleep,” says Alex, her voice firm. “We’ll be monitoring you and waking you up periodically to make sure you’re still responsive, but your body has been through a lot. It needs rest.”

“Evan?” Connor asks again. “Can I… can I see him? Please?”

Connor’s dad stands up. “I’ll go get him,” he says, then stands there for a moment. 

Larry reaches out, brushes Connor’s hair out of his face, then pats his shoulder. 

“It’s good to see you awake.”

Connor closes his eyes, just for a moment. 

When he opens them, he can see Evan. 

And everything’s okay. 

* * *

Connor’s eyes slid closed and Evan almost screamed, just barely stopped himself, when his eyes opened again, half-lidded and unfocused, but open. 

It was the best sight, the most incredible, beautiful thing. Connor’s open eyes, his beautiful, mismatched eyes. “I love you,” Evan said. 

“Love you,” Connor mumbled. 

Evan just cried against him, his tears getting into his hair, as the doctors asked Connor questions and took his vitals and theorized what happened. 

“He’s awake?” Zoe said to Alex. “He’s awake and he’s breathing on his own… How is that possible? How is he alive?”

“I don’t know,” Alex said, looking sick. “It’s _not_ possible.”

“Can I… is he going to stay awake? Should I get my parents?”

Evan refused to move. 

“His breathing sounds good,” One of the doctors said. “Connor, Connor can you follow this light for me?”

They shined a light in his eyes and Connor opened them. Followed the light. “Bright… Ow.” He blinked again. “Where’s… Evan?” His eyes sought Evan again. “You’re really here?”

Evan kissed his forehead. “Yes. I’m here. I love you.”

“He’s talking! He’s talking and he’s breathing on his own,” Zoe sobbed and she looked so relieved. “He’s alive, oh my god. What the fuck?” She collapsed into her chair, her shoulders shaking. 

Evan kissed the side of Connor’s head, moved his hair out of his face and kissed his cheek. Connor… he almost smiled. “I love you,” Evan said. 

“Love you… love you.”

Evan kissed him again, closed mouth, his lips against Connor’s briefly. Then he looked at Zoe. “I’ll go get your parents.” 

“Evan?” Connor said as he shifted. 

“I’ll be right back,” He said, his voice thick and broken. He kissed Connor’s cheek. “I love you. I’m going to get your parents. I love you. I love you. I’ll be right back.”

Evan’s weak legs carried him out of the hospital room and into the hall. He looked out into the waiting room and saw his mother hugging Cynthia. Saw Larry’s head in his hands. 

Larry looked up first. 

“Is it.. Is it over?” Larry said. “They said… We’d have time, they said -”

“He’s awake,” Evan rasped. “He’s awake, he’s alive…. He’s alive and he’s awake.”

Larry looked disbelieving. Cynthia looked ill. “What?”

“Connor’s alive,” Evan said. “He’s awake. He’s breathing on his own. He’s… Connor is awake.”

Evan watched their faces shift suddenly, through so many levels of fear and grief and… “Listen to me,” he said, trying again. “He’s awake. He’s talking to Zoe. Go, _go!_ Go see him.”

Larry and Cynthia scrambled to their feet, out of the waiting room, their hands reaching for each other as they rushed. 

Evan’s mom looked at him, her eyes huge and scared. 

“He’s alive,” Evan said. “Alive and awake.”

“Oh my god,” His mom said. “Oh my god.”

Evan’s legs gave out under him, and his mom came and put her arms around him. “I said goodbye,” He cried, his face buried in her neck. “I said goodbye I said it and he’s alive he’s alive oh my god oh my god.” 

His relief was like a sudden and unexpected pain, a palpable, acute, weight in his chest because Evan realized in this moment that Connor had lived. He’d lived through this. 

And Evan… Evan almost hadn’t. 

He’d nearly let it take him.

He’d nearly given up. 

Oh god, how could he have nearly given up?

Oh god. 

Oh god. 

His mom stayed with him a while, petting his hair and kissing the top of his head and saying it was all going to be okay, it was all going to be okay. 

“No, no, I fucked up, I fucked up everything,” Evan said. “I fucked it all up, I’m a mess, I… I’m a mess.”

“It’s okay baby,” His mom said to him. “We’ll get through this. We’ll… you’ll call your therapist and. And you’ll take better care of yourself. I’ll take better care of you. It’s gonna be okay. We’ll get through this. We’ll get through this.”

“Evan?”

Larry was looking at him. His eyes were red. He’d been crying. 

“Yeah?”

“Connor’s asking for you.”

“Okay,” Evan said, nodding to himself. 

He got to his feet. Hugged his mom. 

He went back into Connor’s room. He was still awake. 

Still alive. 

“He’s alive,” Zoe said to Evan. 

“He’s alive,” Evan said back.

“Evan?” Connor said. Rasped. 

“Right here,” Evan said softly, climbing into bed beside him, wrapping his arms around him tightly. “I’m right here.”

Connor gave him this pale sort of smile, and he rested his head against Evan’s chest. Then he coughed weakly and sighed. 

“You okay?” Evan asked. 

“Throat’s sore,” Connor said. 

“Here,” Cynthia said. “Here, drink some water sweetheart.”

Connor adjusted slightly, and Evan held the pink plastic cup with a straw. Connor took a sip and then swallowed, pulling a face. “This is terrible,” Connor said, wrinkling his nose. “Why is this terrible?”

Alex smiled. “We have to thicken your liquids… Your esophagus isn’t strong enough for you to swallow right now.”

Connor shook his head, “That… tastes like semen, oh my god.”

“Great thing for a father to hear,” Larry said from the door. He was smiling this kind of exhausted smile.

“Oh, did I… not mention I was gay?” Connor croaked. 

Evan laughed, this wet gross laugh, and he leaned his head against Connor’s. Kissed him. “I love you so much.”

“Love you,” Connor said back. He closed his eyes. “Love you.”

“I love you.”


	30. TWENTY-NINE

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> “I’m genuinely asking. How do I come back from this?”

Connor doesn’t have the greatest sense of time passing for the first few days back in his own reality. He tries desperately to stay awake as much as he can, but his body seems to have other ideas, and he feels himself drifting a lot more than he’s happy with. 

Every time he wakes up, it’s to this horrible, bone-chilling fear that he’s in the wrong place. 

But then he sees someone he loves, sitting at his bedside, and they take his hand and squeeze it, and it’s okay. 

He’s okay. 

Usually, it’s his mom. Sometimes it’s Zoe, sometimes it’s his dad, but usually it’s his mom. 

Occasionally it’s Evan. 

But not very often. 

Not as often as he’d like. 

People tell him that Evan’s got to work, that he’s trying to organize things at work so he can take some actual leave when Connor gets to go home from the hospital, so he’s focusing on getting everything organized now, and that makes sense, it does, it honestly does. 

It’s just…

It doesn’t _feel_ right. 

It feels… off, it feels wrong, and not seeing Evan is putting Connor on edge, making him worry that this isn’t real, that he’s not in the right universe. 

Not seeing Evan scares him, because Evan’s the proof he’s in the right universe. 

If Evan’s alive, then Connor’s where he belongs. 

Not seeing Evan scares him, but he tries not to let it show, because that’s the last thing anyone needs right now. And it’s not like Evan’s disappeared, it’s not like he’s never here, it’s just…

It doesn’t feel right. 

None of it feels right, and that makes him feel cold, cold like he’s sitting in a bathtub full of ice, cold like he’s dying, really dying, and he can’t deal with that, so he tries not to think about it. 

* * *

The fact was that when the love of your life nearly died, things did not return to normal. They couldn’t. 

Evan… He had been living like there was no after this. No after. 

Turned out, there was. 

And he wasn’t prepared. 

He wasn’t sure what to do now.

Alex insisted he go home after Connor went back to sleep. “You look like shit,” She said shortly. 

He knew it was true. 

“You eat anything today?” 

He shook his head. 

“Drink anything?”

Evan nodded. “I... “

She put a hand on his shoulder. “I get it. I get it. Just. He’s going to need a lot of help,” Alex said bluntly. “And you’ve got to… He’s going to need you. Go home. Eat something, something decent, not like a fucking granola bar. And sleep it off.”

“I’m not drunk,” Evan said. 

“But you’ve been drunk,” Alex said. “For a couple of days now. Connor needs you to be you, you know? So. Go home. Eat something substantial. Like a burger or something, yeah? Doctor’s orders.”

Evan nodded. “I will.”

So he got his mom and told her that Alex was sending him home with explicit orders to eat something. 

“Okay.”

“I’m… I am so sorry that I’ve been so…”

His mom took his hand and squeezed it. “This was an impossible situation. Nobody expected you to be alright, sweetheart.”

They took a Lyft home. His mom ordered them a mountain of Thai food, and Evan ate everything she put in front of him, chewing mechanically, not tasting anything. 

“So we’ll go back in the morning, okay?”

Evan blinked a few times. “I need to go back to work.”

She looked confused. “I don’t think that’s a good idea…”

“Connor is going to need a lot of help,” Evan said plainly. “And right now he has a million doctors and nurses. But he’s gonna go home eventually and. If I go back now, I can tie up everything I’m in the middle of and maybe swing a few weeks to just be with him.”

“I understand,” His mom said. “But does it have to be tomorrow? You… baby, we thought Connor was going to die today. You need to recover.”

“I’ll recover once I get my life back,” Evan said. “And I’m not going to be a lot of help if I lose my job and insurance, you know?”

His mom wanted to fight him on this. 

“If I promise to make an appointment to see Marcia, will you feel better?” Evan asked her. 

“Okay.”

So he called her after-hours number in front of his mother and asked for her next available appointment. 

“I’m going to get ready for bed,” Evan told his mom after a couple of hours of her watching him like he was a particularly temperamental stray dog she had allowed inside. Like he might bite or pee on the carpet. 

“Alright.”

He swallowed his meds in front of his mother. Smiled big like a good boy. 

He went into the bathroom to brush his teeth and blinked in surprise because someone had covered the mirror. 

He didn’t know who but… they covered the mirror. 

For shiva, he realized.

Because they expected him to be mourning. 

He was supposed to be in mourning. 

Evan’s first shiva was when he was in college. His dad’s brother died unexpectedly - a stroke. He didn’t stay the full seven days, because really, his dad’s side wasn’t his family, they were just people he vaguely knew. More like neighbors than family. But he went home for a couple of days and spent it with his dad and Tracy and baby Amelia who had flown in from Colorado. Sabrina had come with him. She brought a lot of food that she had prepared, casseroles and pastas and a lot of cookies she had baked. 

Evan mostly spent the time hanging out with his new baby sister. She was about a year old. He sat on the floor with everyone else on a cushion, Amelia on his lap, usually babbling adorably. She really liked Sabrina. She liked to squawk “GAH!” whenever she saw her. 

Evan had felt out of place in all of that grief. 

That night, he and Sabrina slept on an air mattress in the den of his paternal grandparents’ house, and she had rolled over and asked why they covered the mirrors. 

Evan sighed. “It’s… There’s a few theories on how it started. One, that when someone dies, evil spirits are more likely to try to, like, take their place. And you can’t see them with just your eyes, but you can see them in mirrors. Or that it’s supposed to make it so you don’t, like, get all distracted from the mourning? Like you’re not thinking about how you look, but just reflecting on… death or whatever.”

Standing in his bathroom in front of the covered mirror, Evan was gripped with a sudden fear that there was nothing under the sheet. That the mirror was gone. 

He ripped it down. 

His face stared back at him. 

Evan really did look like shit. Huge dark circles under his eyes. He hadn’t shaved in a few days, so he had a shadow of stubble. He was pale. He actually looked a bit too thin. Nothing like how Connor looked, but his chin was sharper, his cheekbones more prominent. 

Evan brushed his teeth, keeping his eyes on his reflection the whole time, suddenly terrified that if he didn’t, he might catch a glimpse of an evil spirit trying to fill the void Connor had almost left. 

Connor was alive. He was alive. He was alive. 

“Snap out of it,” Evan muttered to himself, spitting into the sink. 

He must have brushed too hard. The toothpaste was pink with blood. 

Evan left the light in the bathroom on and backed out, never taking his eyes off the mirror. 

He went back to work the next day. People clearly weren’t expecting him, but a lot of them seemed happy to see him. 

Mariah grabbed him into the tightest hug he’d ever had outside of Andi’s bone-crushing ones when he stepped into the office. “How are you?” She asked him. 

“I… I don’t even know. He’s alive. That’s all… That’s all I’ve got.”

“Should you be here?” She asked him. “Jonathan made it sound like you weren’t coming back for a while. He briefed me and Asher on your cases.”

“Asher’s back?”

“Yeah, he and Charles aren’t taking their proper honeymoon until the winter. They just took a couple of days to test the limits of their sex drive.”

“Are they mad at me? About the wedding?” Evan asked sheepishly. 

“Dude, oh my god, no,” Mariah said. “They missed you but they completely understood. It was a bullshit situation.”

Evan nodded. 

“I should warn you,” Mariah said, walking with him to his office. 

“About what?” He asked, stepping inside. 

There were cards all over his desk. Cards and cards. Some food too, candy and dry goods and several gift cards. Someone had clearly been looking after his cactus and succulent because they still looked very healthy. 

“People all… we were all thinking about you.”

Evan nodded. 

He picked the cards up, piled them into a neat stack, and put them into his desk drawer. “I’ll look at them later,” He said. 

“Are you sure you don’t want to be with Connor?” Mariah asked him. 

“He’s going to need me when they let him leave the hospital. I need to be here now so I can be there then.”

“Jonathan would let you work offsite.”

“I have a court appearance next week,” Evan said. “I need to focus.”

“Oh. Okay.”

So he focused. Got to work. 

Didn’t come up for air until six-thirty when his phone dinged to remind him he’d make an appointment with Marcia. 

Right. 

He promised his mom. 

He packed up and walked toward the subway. His phone was full of texts. Zoe, with updates, and a photo of Connor, wide awake, pulling a face. _“He misses you.”_

Texts from his mom, reminding him to eat and go to therapy. Saying she loved him. 

A text thread from Jonathan and Larry saying they were taking Evan to lunch on Friday. 

Evan wasn’t sure any of this was real. 

He couldn’t be sure. 

He had an appointment to get to. He went to Marcia’s office, knowing that normally he’d be… shaky and nervous and embarrassed about what he had said to her the last time he was here. He should be. He had been horrible, utterly awful… 

But Evan just didn’t give a fuck. 

She let him inside and they both sat and got settled. 

Marcia spoke first, “I want to apologize for how our last session ended Evan, I truly -”

“He’s alive,” He interrupted.

Marcia smiled. “I’m glad to hear that.”

“He was going to die. They were going to take him off of life support… but he woke up yesterday. Nobody knows why.”

Marcia nodded. 

“I… Something isn’t right,” Evan said. “Nothing about this makes sense.”

“Confusion is very common following a trauma.”

“I just… I can’t. Whenever I look at him I just think… I said goodbye. I did some horrible things when he was out. I… How do I come back from this? Because I’m not here. I’m not here.”

Marcia clicked her tongue. “Evan…”  
“I should be happy. I should be relieved and ecstatic and so fucking happy. I should want to be with him every second but I… I don’t feel anything. I don’t feel any of that. It’s just… blank. Almost like I… took a bite of aluminium foil. Just a vague, undefined bad… thing.”

She said some things about how trauma not making logical sense. How good news could land oddly when something horrible happened. 

Evan hung his head. “I think… I think the problem is that. That I realize now I don’t… I don’t deserve him. He’s so good and so loved and I… I made everyone around me miserable. I was cruel. I… I don’t deserve him. I deserved to lose him. And I’m glad that I didn’t but… How do I come back from that?”

“That’s a lot of negative self-talk, Evan.”

He almost smiled. “I’m genuinely asking,” He said softly. “How do I come back from this?”

She didn’t have an answer. 


	31. THIRTY

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> “He just wants you here. He just wants you to spend time with him. Talk to him.”

Connor wakes up to find Evan is in sitting at his bedside.

It’s just him. Just Evan. 

For the first time in what feels like forever. 

Evan has his head in his hands, and Connor can see that he’s quietly shaking, and it breaks his heart. He reaches out his arm weakly, trying to reach him, trying so hard to reach him, and Evan clearly sees him move, because all of a sudden he’s wiping his face and pasting on a smile, a smile that doesn’t reach his eyes, and Connor’s chest hurts. 

“Hey,” Connor says, hating how weak his voice sounds. 

“Hi,” says Evan, reaching out and holding Connor’s hand, pressing a kiss on his knuckles. “How are you feeling?”

“Cold,” Connor admits. 

Evan frowns. “Do you want another blanket? Do you want me to get a nurse? We can get something-”

“It’s okay,” Connor interrupts. He shrugs. “I just… I’m always cold.”

Evan looks so fucking sad. “You’re too thin. No wonder you’re cold.” He stands up and moves the blanket that’s at the foot of the bed so it’s covering Connor a little more. It’s the crocheted blanket Martha made, and it’s even more beautiful up close. He runs his fingers over it carefully, reverently, and Evan seems to notice. “Martha made it,” he says, his voice quiet. 

“I thought so,” Connor replies. Evan’s closer to him now, close enough that Connor could touch him if he wanted to. 

He wants to. 

He always wants to. 

He reaches out and Evan takes his hand, almost automatically pressing a kiss to his knuckles, and Connor tries to pull him closer, pull him close enough that he can kiss him properly, but he doesn’t have the strength. 

He thinks that maybe Evan will figure out what it is he’s trying to do and lean in so Connor can press his lips against his, but he doesn’t. 

Evan sits back down in the seat next to Connor’s bed, never letting go of his hand. 

He feels far away and it hurts. 

“Connor?” Evan asks, his voice soft and hesitant.

“Yeah?”

“What… what happened?”

Connor feels his eyes fill with tears, so quickly it shocks him, it terrifies him, it hurts his heart. Evan’s eyes are wide and scared, and he squeezes Connor’s hand tighter then moves to sit on the edge of Connor’s bed, reaching out his other hand to touch his hair behind his ear, letting his hand rest against his cheek for a moment, and Connor takes the moment to lean in, to kiss him, and when Evan kisses back there’s a desperation that Connor can taste. 

There’s a soft knock at the door. Evan moves slightly and Connor sees that it’s Martha and Gladys. 

Evan clears his throat. “I can go if you-”

“Stay,” Connor says immediately. “Three in the room, right?”

Evan hesitates. Nods. Smiles at the two women, then stands up and helps Martha to a seat. She looks… older than Connor remembers. But that’s nothing compared to Gladys, who looks like she’s aged at least a decade since Connor last saw her in the other universe. 

“It’s so good to have you back, Connor,” says Gladys, genuine relief in her voice. 

Martha reaches out and takes Connor’s other hand in both of hers, patting it softly. She smiles softly. “I see the blanket’s being put to good use.”

“It’s beautiful,” Connor says sincerely. “Thank you so much.”

Martha looks horribly sad for a moment. “I’m just glad you get to see it.”

Connor nods. Blinks a few times.

It’s hard to know what to do with other people’s grief. He’s spent so much time hiding the fact that he didn’t belong, that the people around him were distant versions of themselves, that he knew them better than they knew them and it made him feel so alone. He’s spent so much time mourning the versions he knew, the versions who were here missing him, that to come back and see that they’ve been mourning him is almost too much for him to handle. 

It was so close. 

So _fucking_ close. 

Down to the fucking wire, he only _just_ made it back. 

There’s a part of him that doesn’t know if he really believes he made it back. 

It takes a moment for Connor to realize that he’s supposed to respond, that they’re looking at him like he should be saying something. 

He runs his fingers over the blanket again. 

“This must have taken you ages,” he says. His voice is still so weak, so quiet, and he doesn’t like it, because every time he talks Evan looks fucking devastated and he hates that. 

“Labor of love,” says Martha with a soft smile. “It should last you a long time, dear. Should last the two of you a long time.” She pats Connor’s hand again. “Maybe you can even pass it down to future generations.”

Connor can feel Evan go deadly still next to him. 

Gladys laughs a little. “Darling, it’s probably not the time for them to be thinking of starting a family.”

“Starting a family,” Martha says, rolling her eyes a little. “Such a heteronormative concept. We never had children of our own but we’re still a family.” Gladys puts her hand on Martha’s knee and squeezes it. 

“I know,” she says, in her normal no-nonsense tone. She looks straight at Connor. “We consider you and Evan part of our family, Connor.” She scrunches up her nose and Connor realizes that she’s tearing up. “I apologize if that’s a little overly sentimental, but… given recent events, you… you’ll have to forgive me.” 

Martha pulls a handkerchief out of her pocket and hands it to Gladys, who looks embarrassed to be crying. 

Connor’s pretty sure he’s crying, too. 

And Evan’s sitting there, still frozen solid. 

Until he mutters something about a phone call, then leaves the room in a rush. 

* * *

Evan sat on a bench outside of the hospital, smoking a cigarette and willing his hands to stop shaking. 

Martha said…

She said they could pass the blanket down to future generations. 

Evan and Connor had never even talked about kids. 

And the thought of having a really long time together… it didn’t sit right with Evan. Uncomfortable and a little too tight, like old clothes that you had outgrown but tried to squeeze yourself into. 

He didn’t know how he was going to make it through the next week, let alone the entirety of a future stretching out endlessly in front of him. 

Him and Connor. 

Fuck. 

Fuck Connor was going to see it. The moment he was well enough he would notice it, zero in on the fact that while he had been in a coma, Evan had misplaced his entire fucking will to live. 

Fuck. 

Fuck. 

He needed a fucking drink.

After a little while, Evan spotted Zoe on her way inside the hospital. She saw him, smiled, and sat down beside him. “Hey,” She said. 

“Hi,” Evan said. “Sorry,” He said, waving smoke away from her. 

“You hiding out?”

Evan nodded. “Martha and Gladys are here?”

“Oh good,” Zoe said. 

Evan nodded. “Yeah, he’s happy to see them.”

“Bet you anything he’d be happier if you were in there with him,” Zoe said. 

Evan bit his lip. Picked at his cuticles. 

“What’s going on?” Zoe asked. “Can I help?”

“Remember when… when Connor’s mental health was being a dick? Last fall?”

“Yeah,” Zoe said darkly. 

“You were right. I can’t help him when I’m like this… And every time I see him it’s just so obvious that I’m… I’m fucking useless here.”

Zoe shook her head. “He just wants you here. He just wants you to spend time with him. Talk to him.”

Evan picked more at his cuticle. Took another drag of his cigarette. “It’s… I’m fucking this up.”

“Just be there for him,” Zoe said. “That’s what he needs right now.”

Evan nodded. Wiped his eyes. 

“You’re not okay, are you?”

He shook his head. “Am I ever?”

“Yeah,” Zoe said, sounding surprised. “You are.” 

* * *

Connor wakes up with a jolt, his heart pounding. 

It’s dark, and there’s no one else in the room with him, and for a moment, he’s not sure where he is. 

It takes him a minute, but then he sees Martha’s blanket, and it hits him that he’s still here. 

Still here. 

He knows he should go back to sleep. It’s the middle of the night, and no one’s here, and sleep is apparently part of the whole healing process, so he should. 

And he could, he knows. He could close his eyes and be out again in seconds. 

But he doesn’t. 

There’s a copy of _Harry Potter and The Sorceror’s Stone_ next to his bed, and he takes it and starts reading from where someone’s put in a bookmark. 

It’s hard to focus, because he’s so fucking tired, but he just…

Doesn’t want to sleep. 

Doesn’t want to leave. 

Maybe an hour later, someone pokes their head through the door. It’s Alex, who looks surprised and a little annoyed to see him awake and reading. 

“Dude,” she says, coming into the room and closing the door behind her. “It’s four am. You should be asleep.”

Connor looks at her, noticing that she’s in a denim jacket over her scrubs. “End of your shift?” he asks, his voice still scratchy. 

“Yeah,” she says, coming to sit next to him and taking the book away from him. “I just wanted to check in on you before I left.”

Connor feels something in his chest ache. “Mom says you’ve been here the whole time.” He tries to smile. “Dad says you might be the least incompetent person in this whole hospital.”

“Your dad is a real charming guy,” Alex replies with a roll of her eyes, but she’s smiling. She sighs. “Dude, you really gotta sleep.”

Connor feels himself tense. “I’m not tired.”

“Liar.” Alex sighs again. “Look, I can’t even imagine how fucking scary it must have been, okay? What happened to you… whatever the fuck it was. It was scary enough for all of us watching. I get that you might have… concerns about sleeping, when you came so close to…”

Connor waits for her to continue, but when she doesn’t, he does it for her. “To not waking up.”

Alex flinches. She looks horribly sad, and very, very young. 

It occurs to Connor that Alex isn’t that much older than him. She’s barely in her thirties but she’s a fucking doctor, she’s in a job where people’s lives are on the line, where she’s responsible for people who have people who love them, people who rely on her to look after what’s most important to them.

“This must have sucked,” he says, realizing how lame that sounds the minute he’s said it. 

Alex looks confused for a fraction of a second, then she kind of laughs. “That’s putting it mildly.”

“I guess… people don’t make it all the time, in your line of work,” says Connor, and from the look on Alex’s face he wishes he hadn’t, it was the absolute wrong thing to say. 

She looks utterly devastated. 

“You’re not just any patient,” she says after a moment. “You’re my friend. Evan is like a brother to me. I… I just fucking wish I understood what the fuck happened. If I understood, if I could make sense of it, if I were a better fucking doctor, then maybe-”

“Alex.”

She lets out a shaky breath. 

Her bright red hair is washed out in the dim light of the hospital room. 

She looks so young. 

So fucking young. 

“None of this is on you,” Connor says softly. “And I’m okay. I swear I’m okay.”

Alex sniffs. Nods. 

Pulls out a stethoscope from her bag and starts taking his vitals with the practiced ease of someone who has done this a million times. Looks at the various equipment he’s still hooked up. 

“Your temperature is still low,” she says, frowning. “So’s your blood pressure. Not dangerously, but… lower than it should be.” 

“I’m sorry.”

“I need you to get some sleep, Connor.”

Connor swallows. “I… I’m fucking terrified I won’t wake up.”

Alex blinks a few times. Nods. Takes in a deep breath, then sits on the edge of his bed. 

“I’ll make you a deal,” she says, her voice quiet. “If you can get some decent sleep in the next few days, I’ll help the bookstore kids smuggle Edgar in here again.”

Connor feels his heart leap, almost painfully. “You… you brought my cat to the hospital? While I was in a coma?”

Fuck, Edgar.

He misses Edgar so fucking much. 

Is he okay? Connor knows that Leslie, Maureen and Jax would never let him starve, would look after him, and that he’d have company during the day when the store was open, but what about the rest of the time? 

Did Evan look after him? Is it okay for Connor to ask Evan if he’d spent time with his cat? Normally he wouldn’t hesitate to tease Evan about Edgar, about how he was definitely Edgar’s other dad, but Connor knows that Evan’s not… not himself. 

He’s not okay. 

And that’s on Connor. 

Because Connor’s been in a fucking coma for weeks. 

Alex smiles, her eyes glassy. “Yeah. Edgar misses you, dude.”

Connor feels himself tear up. “I can’t believe they smuggled my cat into the ICU, oh my god.”

“You wanna see him, yeah?” 

Connor nods. Suddenly, yeah, all he wants is to see his fucking cat. 

“Then get some damn sleep. And I’ll make it happen.”

* * *

Evan’s mom was sleeping in his bedroom and Evan could not get comfortable on the sofa. He tossed and turned, his mind refusing to shut off. 

He couldn’t sleep. 

He just couldn’t sleep. 

Evan researched for a while. Brushed up on malpractice law, looked into some precedents of suits against hospitals. Sent a few promising cases to Larry, even though it was three in the morning. He read and wrote until his eyes itched and burned and then he tried to sleep. 

Nothing. 

Sleep just wasn’t coming to him. Evan got up. Paced around for a while. 

He snagged a book from his bookshelf. First one he saw. 

_Harry Potter and the Sorcerer’s Stone._ Slytherin special edition. Connor had bought it for him, given it to him as a twenty eighth birthday gift. 

Evan couldn’t sleep. 

So instead he read.

Alex got home about five fifteen and found him sitting up, staring into a book, his brain not taking any of the information in, his eyes itching with fatigue…

“Why are you up?”

Evan shrugged. 

“You and your boyfriend are going to be the death of me,” Alex said, rolling her eyes. “You need to sleep. Both of you.”

“He was awake?” Evan asked, his heart speeding up. 

“Yeah,” Alex said. “I think he’s… He’s scared to sleep.”

Evan swallowed hard. Started to pick at a scab on his cuticle. “Oh.”

“I… I bribed him,” Alex said, smiling a little. “I bribed him to sleep. Like he’s a fucking toddler.”

“What did you bribe him with?” Evan asked, curious. 

“His cat,” Alex said. “I said I’d help the bookstore kids smuggle Edgar in again if he slept properly for a couple of days.”

Evan smiled. “He loves that cat.”

Alex patted Evan’s shoulder. “He loves you more.”

Evan dropped his gaze back to his cuticles. One of them had started to bleed. “Everyone keeps saying that.”

“I think he might be more inclined to rest like he needs if you were there. He asks about you every time he wakes up.”

Evan stared at the bubble of blood pooling in his nail bed. “I can’t… every time I see his eyes close, every time he even _blinks_ too long… I hate it. I hate it so much.”

Alex patted his hand. “I know.” 

“I should get ready for work,” Evan said. 

“Have you slept at all?”

He stood up. “I should get ready for work. Get some sleep, Alex.”


	32. THIRTY-ONE

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> “Don’t you ever fucking scare me like that again. Asshole.”

Connor does what he’s told and gets some damn sleep. 

He’s woken up every now and then by a doctor who wants to take his vitals, check that he’s responsive, make sure he hasn’t fallen back into a coma, and while that would be annoying at any other time, he doesn’t mind it so much. 

At least it’s proof that he’s here. In the right universe. 

Where he belongs. 

He falls back asleep easily every time. 

The first time he wakes up without prompting, he feels…

Better. 

Better than he had. 

Warmer. 

Zoe’s sitting next to his bedside, and so is his mom. Zoe’s on her laptop, and his mom is reading a book, and it takes him a moment to notice it’s a different room.

There’s a bouquet of flowers on a table nearby. That’s new. 

It’s full of brightly colored flowers, yellows and purples and reds. 

It’s… nice. 

“They moved you out of the ICU when you were sleeping,” says Zoe when she sees he’s awake and looking around the room. She smiles, this genuine smile. “This is good. Really good.”

His mom looks exhausted but she’s smiling, too. “You’ll be here a little while longer,” she tells him. “They obviously want to keep an eye on you, given everything, but they think you’re out of the woods.”

“Okay,” he says, and he tries to smile at them. 

Tries again. 

The second time, it’s a little easier. 

“How’d you sleep?” asks Zoe, who’s shut her laptop and is moving her chair closer to him. “You were out for a while, but you were responsive every time they woke you up to check on you.”

“Okay,” Connor says, realizing he’s telling the truth. “No weird dreams,” he adds, and Zoe’s face twists a little, this flash of horror flitting across her features momentarily, but then she smiles again. 

“Good,” she says. She leans in and wraps her arms around him, kissing him on the cheek. “Don’t you ever fucking scare me like that again. Asshole.”

Connor’s limbs still feel limp and noodley, but he hugs his sister back the best he can, and feels himself tear up again. 

Something occurs to him. 

“I… I never talked to you about it,” he says stupidly. “I’m such an asshole.”

Zoe stiffens in his arms. “About me having power of attorney?” she says, the words coming out harshly. “No, you fucking didn’t.”

Connor hears his mom take in a sharp breath. 

The tension in the air hangs heavily. 

“I’m so fucking sorry.”

“I didn’t…” Zoe pulls away and looks him in the eye. “I hated it, Connor, I hated having to be the one to make that call. I… it was going to be the day you woke up, did they fucking tell you that? I almost… I almost let you die, Connor, I almost-”

“Hey, hey, hey,” Connor says hastily, pulling her back into a hug. “It’s okay, it’s okay, I’m fine, look, see? I’m okay. It’s okay.”

Zoe holds onto him tightly. 

So fucking tightly. 

They don’t let go for a very long time. 

When they do, Zoe wipes her face, takes in a deep breath and puts on a smile. It’s this efficient, clinical kind of motion that has Connor utterly transfixed. 

It reminds him of his dad. 

He did almost the exact same thing the day Connor…

The day he came back. 

“Has Dad gone back home?” Connor asks when Zoe sits back in her seat. 

She shakes her head. Looks a little annoyed. “No, he’s still in the city,” she says, with a slight roll of her eyes. “But he’s working. Doing something work related, I don’t fucking know.”

“He texted me,” says Connor’s mom, and Zoe looks genuinely surprised. “Apparently Evan’s boss is taking him and Evan out for lunch to celebrate Connor’s recovery.”

Connor and Zoe exchange a look. 

“Well that should be fun for everyone involved,” says Connor. “Hope there’s alcohol, for Evan’s sake.”

At that, Zoe looks uncomfortable. She clears her throat. “Speaking of that-”

“Okay folks,” comes a voice from the doorway. There’s Alex, in what looks like a fresh pair of scrubs, hair pulled back in a braid, looking more rested than the last time Connor saw her. “Don’t say I don’t keep my promises.”

With that, she ushers Maureen, Jax and Leslie into the room. Jax has their arm around Maureen’s waist, Connor notices immediately, and Leslie’s cradling a backpack. Alex shuts the door and closes the blinds, then stands at the door and nods to Leslie. 

Leslie grins, puts the backpack on the end of Connor’s bed, and out pops a little black and white face. 

Connor thinks he’s going to fucking cry.

“Mrow,” says Edgar Allan Paw, scampering up the bed happily to greet Connor. He takes his customary spot on Connor’s shoulder and presses his face to Connor’s cheek, giving him little kitten kisses. 

Connor is definitely going to cry, fuck. 

“The gang’s all here,” quips Jax with a watery smile, and it’s like that breaks a dam, because all of a sudden the three of them are rushing toward Connor, pulling him into hugs one at a time, and fuck, fuck, fuck Connor’s missed them, he’s missed them so much, these people are his family and he’s really fucking missed them. 

“How are you feeling?” asks Leslie, who is definitely crying but smiling as well. “Fucking hell, Connor, it’s so good to see you.”

“I’m okay,” Connor assures them. “I’m… fuck.” He wipes his face with the back of his hand, and Maureen hands him a box of tissues. “It’s really good to see you guys.”

There’s a flurry of tears and laughter and the box of tissues makes the rounds. There aren’t enough seats in the room, so when they all sit down, Maureen sits on Jax’s lap. 

Connor doesn’t miss it when Jax presses a kiss to the side of Maureen’s head. 

“Jax and Maureen,” he can’t help but tease, “do I need to call HR?”

“You never said there was paperwork,” says Jax to Maureen, who rolls her eyes and kisses Jax properly. 

“When did this happen?” Connor asks, genuinely smiling. “Just so I know whether or not it’s appropriate to say ‘it’s about time’?”

Jax’s expression shifts to something more serious, and so does Maureen’s. They look at Connor and bite their lip. “When Zoe called and told us you woke up,” they say, taking Maureen’s hand and holding it tightly. “Right after we found out you were okay, I kissed her.”

“You told me that life was short and scary,” Maureen says, looking at Jax with this soft, fond expression. “So we had to hold on to the good things.”

Connor feels this twisting in his chest. “Yeah,” he says, and he knows he’s going to fucking cry again, fuck. “Yeah, we do.”

Edgar Allan Paw lets out a contented sigh from Connor’s shoulder and curls up closer, purring happily and rubbing his nose against Connor’s cheek. 

Leslie launches into a story about how she caught Maureen and Jax making out in the stockroom the day before, which makes Zoe laugh and Maureen blush, and Connor’s mom reaches out and pets Edgar and smiles at Connor widely, and Connor’s hit by the feeling that this would be a perfect moment, if only Evan were here. 

He can picture it, too, picture Evan sitting next to him on the bed, carding his hands through Connor’s hair, pressing kisses on the side of his head, holding him tight, holding him like he never wants to let him go. 

It’s like an ache, not having him here. 

Like a physical pain in his chest. 

_He’s working now so he can be there when you get home,_ Connor reminds himself. _Everything’s okay. You’re home, you’re with your people, and everything’s okay._

It has to be okay. 

* * *

He was a zombie at the office the next day. 

Evan had gone to the hospital after work the day before, but Connor was asleep. “Just asleep?” Evan asked, probably twenty times. 

“Just asleep,” Zoe reassured him. “They check if he’s responsive every two hours. He just needs to… rest. And heal.”

He nodded, holding Connor’s hand and wishing that he would wake up. Even just to say hi. 

He didn’t. 

So Evan hadn’t slept the night before either. He hadn’t slept at all, no matter what he tried. 

Every time he shut his eyes he imagined Connor’s eyes slipping closed again and then woke up screaming. 

So.

He hadn’t slept. 

Evan kept drinking more and more coffee until he could basically feel his heart beating in his eyelids. Mariah and Asher started stopping in to check on him every thirty minutes or so, and Evan was starting to get really fucking tired of it. “I’m fine,” He said after the third or fourth time. 

“We know,” Mariah said. “But in case you weren’t…”

“I’m fine,” Evan said. “I’m always fine.”

Around noon, Jonathan stopped into Evan’s office. “I’m taking you to lunch.”

Evan blinked a few times. “Am I fired?”  
“What? No,” Jonathan said. “I’m taking you and Larry to lunch. I thought I’d texted.”

“Oh,” Evan said. “Right. Yeah, just give me -”

“Hansen, I know for a fact that you’re two weeks ahead of schedule on all of the motions you need to file despite being out off and on for a few weeks. Take a break.”

Evan stared. 

“You’re probably never going to hear me say it again,” Jonathan said. “Come on.”

Evan closed his mouth, which he knew was hanging open. He collected his things and followed Jonathan out of his office, down to the lobby, then out onto the street where a sleek black town car was waiting for them. 

“It’s a hybrid!” Jonathan told Evan, clearly pleased about it. 

“Oh… Great.”

They chatted on the ride, just small talk about the weather and Jonathan’s house in the Hamptons and Jonathan said something about how his husband was thinking about planting a rooftop garden. Evan nodded along, murmuring agreement or whatever, not really there. 

He should be at the hospital. With his boyfriend who just woke up from a coma. 

He should be at the hospital. 

Larry met them at the restaurant. Evan had never been there, obviously. It was some four-star, twenty-eight dollar salad sort of place. He smiled widely at Evan, shaking his hand enthusiastically. The hostess sat them at a sunny table in the middle of a wide, brightly lit dining room and Evan stared at the menu disinterestedly. 

Nothing sounded good. 

Evan shouldn’t be here. 

Jonathan and Larry talked shop and told war stories about cases against each other. Evan chimed in, laughed and played along when he could manage it. The waitress grabbed their drink order, and Evan asked for water. 

“You’ve had quite the last couple of weeks, Hansen,” Jonathan said. “Live a little.”

“No, I shouldn’t, I have to go back to the office after this.”

Larry and Jonathan laughed like Evan had made a hilarious joke. 

Well. Alright then. 

“Whisky please,” He said quietly to the waitress, who nodded. 

He ordered the cheapest thing on the menu for his meal and tried to sip his water and drink his drink slowly. He talked with Jonathan and Larry, chiming in to conversations and telling them a story or two about law school. Mostly he just stared at the table while they talked and drank. 

Jonathan ordered Evan a second drink. 

Evan ordered himself a third. Got up and ordered a fourth from the bar when Jonathan and Larry both stepped out to make phone calls and smoke cigars and do old white people stuff.

Evan checked his phone. Responded to an email, then the second. 

Jonathan and Larry returned as he was finishing his sixth drink. Jonathan covered the bill without even looking at it. 

“Well, gentleman,” Jonathan said. “I’m glad to see you’re both doing better. Hansen, go with Larry here back to the hospital to see your guy. I’ll see you on Monday.” He waved them off without another word. 

Evan and Larry stood outside of the restaurant, waiting for the Lyft Larry had called. 

“Thank you,” Larry said. “For the notes you sent last night. You are _extremely_ thorough.”

“Of course,” Evan said. “I’m happy to help any way I can with the suit.”

Larry looked at Evan for a long moment. “Maybe you should… take a walk? Drink some coffee before you come to the hospital.”

“Oh,” Evan said, feeling almost like he had been punched. 

“Believe me I know how challenging the last few weeks have been. I know. But Connor is in a fragile place right now. So. Walk it off. Come by later, after you’ve sobered up.”

Evan swallowed hard. Nodded. “Yes sir.”

Larry got into the Lyft as it arrived. 

And Evan went for a walk. 

Fuck. 

He was so stupid. 

He was fucking all of this up. He was fucking everything. Just everything.

Evan went back to his apartment. He changed out of his work clothes. Had a seat in on the sofa… 

He realized he didn’t know where his mom was. He texted her. 

_“With Cynthia,”_ Her reply said. _“We went to the bookstore apartment to get some of Connor’s things. They say he’ll be in the hospital for a few more days. The bookstore kids are smuggling the cat into the hospital.”_

Evan replied to thank her for telling him. 

Picked at his scabbed cuticles. Closed his eyes, just for a moment… 

Just for a moment. 

And promptly fell asleep on the sofa. 


	33. THIRTY-TWO

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> “There’s a reason the law allows us to sue for emotional damages.”

The next time Connor wakes up, his dad and Zoe are in the room. They’re both working on their laptops, not really talking to each other. 

“Hi,” he says, hating how his voice is still weak, his throat is still kind of fucked, and they both look up at him. 

Zoe’s face lights up. “Hey,” she says, shutting her laptop immediately. “How are you feeling?”

“Tired,” he admits. He frowns. “Cold, still.” He shivers a little. “It’s… weird, I know, because it’s still summer.”

His dad and Zoe just look at him sadly for a moment. 

“It _is_ still summer, right?”

“It is,” says his dad, his voice strained. It takes a moment, but he also shuts his laptop and looks at Connor. “I don’t like that you’re still cold. I don’t like that they can’t explain why on earth you woke up hypothermic.” He clears his throat. “I don’t like that they can’t explain why…”

_Why I woke up at all,_ Connor thinks. _Why any of this happened._

Something occurs to him. “You’re suing the hospital, aren’t you.”

His dad blinks. “Obviously.” His face clouds over. “What happened to you… whatever happened, it shouldn’t have. There’s no excuse for how poorly this was handled.” His voice grows stronger as he continues. “They gave us no explanation as to why you fell into a coma after what was allegedly a successful surgery, no explanation as to why your heart stopped, while you stopped breathing. We had to… we had to prepare for the worst, we had to… we had to do our best to follow your wishes, to do what your will legally stated we were to do in this situation, we had to…” Larry’s whole demeanor drops then, and he sags back into his chair, and he suddenly looks very, very old. 

“We had to say goodbye,” Zoe says, her voice soft and trembling. “All of us did.” Her eyes are glistening with unshed tears and Connor hates it. “I… I planned your funeral, Connor. I had to plan your funeral.”

Connor lets out a shaky breath. “Fuck.”

“Yeah, fuck about covers it,” says Larry Murphy, and Zoe lets out this surprised laugh. He squares his shoulders. Looks Connor straight in the eye. “I’m suing the hospital. They’re going to be hit with one hell of a lawsuit and there’s no way they’re getting out of taking responsibility for this.” His expression doesn’t waver as he continues. “Especially with Evan’s help.”

Connor has to take a moment to let that sink in. “You and Evan… worked together on this?”

“Not exactly,” his dad says, looking a little uncomfortable. “But he provided useful information. Contacts. Things I wouldn’t have even thought of.” Something in his expression shifts. “Now that I’ve seen just how thorough he is, you’d better believe I’d think twice before going up against him in court again.” 

Connor lets out a laugh. His dad’s cheeks color slightly. 

“I’d appreciate if you didn’t tell him I said that,” Larry continues with a small smile. “I’d like to hold on to my reputation.”

“What about Alex?” Connor can’t help but ask. “If… if the hospital gets sued and she’s been here the whole time, what about her? I don’t… I don’t want her to get into trouble.”

“Neither do we,” Larry assures him. “I’ve made it very clear that Dr. Dawson has our utmost respect. We’ve…” He clears his throat. “None of her decisions resulted in any harm to you. She fulfilled her duty of care, went above and beyond, and it was the responsibility of doctors more experienced and tenured than she is to provide the answers.” He pulls his shoulders back and continues, his voice smoothing out, gaining traction. “Furthermore, she was transparent. She was honest and upfront that she didn’t know what was happening, that she couldn’t explain what happened to you. She didn’t make excuses, she didn’t give us any bullshit, she was professional and honest and straightforward.” He crosses his arms. “Frankly, Dr. Dawson is the only person in this hospital I don’t want to punch in the face.”

Connor lets out a laugh, which turns into a cough, which turns into Zoe giving him something to drink. It’s still that thick, gross semen-like bullshit, because his throat is still not great, but they say he might be able to try actual food and water tomorrow, all going well. 

By actual food, he’s fairly certain they mean jello. 

Something occurs to Connor. 

“How was lunch with Evan and Jonathan?” he asks his dad. 

His dad looks surprised. “Fine,” he says. He opens his mouth, then closes it again, then finally speaks. “I’ve known Jonathan for a long time. He’s… very impressed by Evan, and he doesn’t impress easily.”

“Good,” Connor says, looking at his dad a little challengingly. “Clearly he’s not an idiot.”

Zoe barely stifles a laugh. 

Connor’s dad frowns, ever so slightly. “I… I think it would be in everyone’s best interests if Evan were to take some time to rest once you’re back home,” he says, his tone cautious, maddeningly neutral. 

It puts Connor on edge immediately. “Is he okay?”

Zoe’s face pales, ever so slightly. She and Larry exchange a subtle look. “It’s been hard on all of us,” Zoe says, and there’s something cautious in her tone, too, but in a different way, and it strikes Connor that he’s never really thought of his dad and Zoe being similar before now. It’s never really occurred to him. 

Zoe’s never looked more like their dad than she does right now. 

“I’m so fucking sorry,” says Connor. 

“None of this is your fault,” Larry says firmly. “But it’s been a difficult time. Emotionally turbulent, which takes its toll on all of us, no matter how hard we try.” Something crosses his face that might be a smile if it weren’t so sad. “There’s a reason the law allows us to sue for emotional damages. They have… effects. Substantial effects.”

“It’s been hard on all of us,” Zoe repeats, “but I think it’s been the hardest on Evan. He… he loves you so much, Connor, and he… all of us…” She takes in a breath, squares her shoulders. Holds her head high. “We said our goodbyes. We said our goodbyes to you, we prepared ourselves to… to let you go, and while we’re thrilled that you’re back, it’s not the kind of thing you can just forget.” Her lip begins to wobble. “Planning your brother’s funeral isn’t the kind of thing you can just forget.”

Connor can’t stand this. “Fuck, Zo, I-”

“I don’t understand,” his sister says, her voice breaking, her eyes filling with tears. “I… none of it makes any fucking sense, Connor, it doesn’t make any sense, you were dying, you were as good as dead, you couldn’t breathe on your own and I had to make that call and it killed me to do it, it fucking _killed_ me, but your will was clear on what you wanted and I had to, I fucking _had_ to, and I did _everything_ I could, everything I was supposed to, I planned your fucking funeral and signed the papers to say we were letting you go and you… you came back. I’m so fucking glad you’re here but it doesn’t make sense, it doesn’t make any fucking sense.”

“Zoe,” Connor says, his voice coming out a little desperate. “Come here, okay?”

She stares at him for a moment, then nods and sits on the edge of his bed, and Connor wraps his arms around her, kisses her head and lets her cry for what feels like forever. 

When she’s finally out of tears, she climbs off the bed and sits back in her chair, wiping her face, collecting herself, and Connor watches the process with morbid fascination. 

It’s scary, how fast she can pack it all away. 

Just like their dad. 

“Is Evan still at work?” Connor can’t help but ask. “Do you know if he… is he going to visit?”

His dad’s expression is carefully neutral. “He said something about a case.”

“Right,” says Connor, feeling a little lost. 

He feels like…

He feels like Evan’s avoiding him. 

It feels like he doesn’t want to be here, Evan doesn’t want to be with Connor, and that hurts, that’s devastating, that twists up in his insides painfully because everything he did in the other universe, the painful experiments, the research, all of it…

It was for Evan. 

It was to get back to Evan. 

Connor fought his way back from another reality for Evan. 

And Evan’s not here. 

Evan’s not okay. 

And that’s his fault. 

That’s on him. 

* * *

Evan opened his eyes. He had a bit of a headache. 

His phone said it was already six o’clock. 

Shit. 

Shit, he’d fallen asleep. 

Shit he was supposed to visit with Connor. Shit. 

Evan got up. 

He went and brushed his teeth because he didn’t want to have liquor on his breath when he went to visit Connor. 

He brushed them twice. Just in case. 

His mom had texted to say she was getting dinner with Cynthia, that she would be by later. 

She reminded him to eat and take his meds. 

Evan grabbed a granola bar on his way out the door. He wasn’t hungry, he’d already eaten, but he grabbed it. 

Good boy. Roll over. Sit.

Evan took the train to the hospital. 

Fuck, he was so tired. He was so fucking tired. He nearly fell asleep on the train, just sitting there. He felt like he was only half warmed through, like he was food heated up in the microwave that was still cold in the middle. 

Fuck. 

Evan smoked on the walk from the subway station to the hospital, praying the nicotine would help him to wake up a little. 

He couldn’t have Connor seeing him this tired. 

When Evan got to the hospital, he was told that Connor had been moved out of the ICU. Something inside of him unclenched a little. He wasn’t in the ICU anymore. 

That was great. Amazing. 

Evan followed the receptionist’s directions to Connor’s newer, bigger room. Zoe and Larry were both inside, each of them typing on laptops. 

Connor’s eyes were closed. 

Fuck. 

“Oh, hi!” Zoe said, smiling at Evan. “I’m glad you’re here, I was just about to text you.”

“You were?” Evan said. 

“Yeah,” Zoe said. “They said tomorrow he can have solid food.” She had this huge grin on her face. 

“It’ll probably just be jello,” Larry said. But he was smiling. “Finish everything you needed?” Larry asked Evan, his eyebrows lifted significantly. 

He nodded. “Can I sit?

“Yeah go ahead,” Zoe said. “Actually, do you mind staying a bit? Dad and I were going to go to the cafeteria. I’m starving.”

“I’ll stay,” Evan said. “Of course I will.”

They smiled at him. They left Connor’s room. 

And it was just Evan and Connor, alone in the room. 

Evan wanted to shake Connor awake. Prod him until he opened his eyes, just to be sure that Connor could open them again. 

Fuck. 

Evan took a shuddery breath. 

He took Connor’s hand. Squeezed it. 

And Connor squeezed back. 

Opened his eyes. 

“You’re here,” He said, his voice quiet. 

“I love you,” Evan said. “I’m sorry I haven’t been… I’m sorry.”

“Don’t go,” Connor said, his brow wrinkled. 

“I won’t,” Evan said. “Go back to sleep. I’m not going anywhere.”

Connor’s eyes slid closed again. 

And Evan leaned his head onto their joined hands, just for a moment. God, he was so tired. He just needed to close his eyes for a minute. Just a minute.


	34. THIRTY-THREE

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> "You don’t belong here.”

It’s raining.

It’s hot and humid and muggy and it’s raining, and Connor can see there are people heading into a building in the city. He recognizes the area, vaguely, but he can’t place it, not exactly. He wouldn’t be able to get back to the bookstore from here if he had to walk. 

Wherever this building is, it’s nice. Kind of welcoming, in a way. He follows the crowds inside and notices they’re well dressed, familiar faces he recognizes but can’t quite place. 

There’s a display in the foyer with Connor’s photo front and center. 

It’s a photo of him with Edgar on his shoulder and it takes him a moment to remember that Heidi took this photo to send to his mom the first time she met Edgar in the bookstore. In the photo, Connor is smiling, and Edgar’s curled up on his shoulder.

Edgar was so small back then, Connor thinks.

Still just a baby. 

Underneath the photo is writing, writing that stops his heart. 

_Connor Lawrence Murphy_

_February 26, 1992 - July 7, 2021_

There are other photos on display, too. There are some photos of him when he was a kid, all missing teeth and sticking-out ears. There’s a photo of his entire family at his high school graduation, then one of him and his mom at his graduation from Columbia. 

There’s a photo of him and Zoe, barely four and five years old, curled up on the sofa watching TV. Connor’s asleep, his head resting on Zoe’s shoulder, and Zoe’s sticking her finger in his nose and hamming it up for the camera. 

There’s a photo of him on his tenth birthday, reading a book with a sandy-haired boy, paying no attention to the camera at all. Connor’s wearing an official Ravenclaw Harry Potter costume, and the other boy is wearing a handmade robe and carrying a carefully painted and sanded stick as a wand. 

That same photo is on the fridge in Connor’s apartment. 

That same photo of him and Evan. 

There are other photos of Evan, too. More recent ones. There’s a photo from The Little Book Nook holiday party last year, where Connor and Evan are standing to the side holding hands while Jax and Maureen do some ridiculous dance moves. There’s a selfie with Evan, Connor and Andi at some weird theatre installation at the end of spring, maybe a month before Connor got sick. 

There’s a photo of he and Evan at Thanksgiving last year, the actual day of Thanksgiving, and Edgar’s on his shoulder and he and Evan are looking at each other, and they’re happy. 

They were happy. 

Connor knows he’s at his funeral, but no one else seems to think it’s weird that he’s here, he’s walking around. No one looks at him, no one acknowledges him at all. 

Like he’s _not_ here. 

Like he’s an apparition. 

There are people he doesn’t immediately recognize, but there are also those he does. He sees Andre talking to Dave and Mikhail near the front of the room. Not too far away, there are Mattie and Alex, Mattie with her arm around Alex protectively. Even though Alex has nearly a foot on her girlfriend, she looks small. Fragile.

Connor’s never thought of Alex as fragile before. It sits uncomfortably. It doesn’t feel right. 

Right next to where he’s standing, there are people he recognizes from back home. Alana Beck is there, with a woman with long dark hair that Connor, weirdly, thinks is vaguely familiar, like he’s seen her before, but can’t place her. They’re talking with Nick Schultz, which Connor thinks is a little weird, because they weren’t really friends. 

“Evan and I were at community college together in our freshman year,” says Nick to Alana quietly. “And even though we weren’t really close, we all grew up together. It felt… I just wanted to pay my respects.”

“It doesn’t make sense,” says Alana, who’s wringing her hands, a little desperately. “Marisol’s a nurse, and I was pre-med for a while… an appendectomy causing a coma like this? It doesn’t make sense, this is… it’s not fair, none of it is fair.”

The dark-haired woman wraps her arm around Alana’s waist and kisses her cheek gently. Holds her hand. 

Nick looks stricken. He looks around the room, a little awkwardly, like he’s not sure he should be here. He’s wearing a nice suit, Connor notes. Expensive, clearly. Last he heard, Nick was doing pretty well for himself, living out in California doing some kind of tech start-up thing. 

The fact that he’d come all the way to New York for Connor’s funeral…

It’s weird. But it’s nice. 

It’s kind of him, Connor thinks. 

Not far away, Connor sees a tall guy with sandy blond hair walking through the door. Dennis is wearing a dress shirt and pants and a tie and he looks uncomfortable, looks out of place, and his scruffy hair is neater than Connor’s ever seen it before. It’s like he’s a whole other person. 

No, it’s more like he’s wearing a costume, Connor thinks. A costume of a proper grown-up. Which is a funny thing to think about, seeing that Dennis had a kid when he turned twenty-three, just before Connor turned twenty-one.

Mia must be nearly nine by now. Connor remembers going to her baptism and getting ridiculously stoned with Dennis and his friends. 

Connor looks at his friend carefully. His eyes are red, and Connor can’t tell if it’s because he’s high or because he’s been crying. 

It might be both. 

He can’t look at this anymore. 

Connor turns around, just in time to see Gladys and Martha being helped down the aisle to their seats by Jax and Maureen and Leslie and Leslie’s girlfriend Camille. Jax is in a nice looking suit, this three-piece navy suit that Connor vaguely remembers them changing into for a function at their second job at a local school right after work one night at The Little Book Nook. Connor remembers how Maureen had looked them up and down with clear interest, blushing when she’d realized Connor had caught her. 

When Gladys and Martha are seated, Jax and Maureen hug and Jax presses a kiss to Maureen’s forehead. Maureen responds by lightly kissing them back on the lips, and Connor feels something in his heart clench a little bit. 

_“Jax and Maureen, do I need to call HR?”_

_“You never said there was paperwork.”_

Connor feels cold. There’s a weird buzzing in the air and everything feels… strange, like he’s taken a bite into aluminum foil. 

He didn’t… he never talked to Jax and Maureen about their relationship. 

He didn’t get the chance. Because he died. 

Connor can’t look at them anymore. He can’t. He turns away, walks a little and finds himself right by more familiar faces. 

There’s Charles and Asher and Mariah who work with Evan, all in sober dark suits, and Evan’s boss Jonathan, who’s standing talking with a pair of men it takes Connor a moment to place. 

Levi and Jonah Nachman, he remembers. Levi is Gladys and Martha’s lawyer, and Jonah’s an honest-to-god clown. 

Levi and Jonathan must know each other, it seems. Connor remembers… something about the queer Jewish lawyer grapevine from last year’s holiday party. They’re talking about something, then they turn and something in Jonathan’s face shifts. Tenses up with anger. 

Connor follows their gaze to see that fucking Richard McLaren has just arrived. He’s in a way too expensive suit. Connor turns back to the group of lawyers, who all look fucking furious that this asshole has dared to show his face here. 

Jonathan’s the one to head toward him. Connor follows him, morbidly fascinated to see what will happen. 

“What are you doing here?” says Jonathan, his voice low and angry. “Do you think it’s some kind of a joke to show up at Larry Murphy’s kid’s funeral? I know the two of you don’t see eye to eye in the courtroom but have some goddamn respect.”

Richard looks utterly unapologetic. “I’m not here for Larry, I’m here for Connor. I knew him.”

Jonathan looks unconvinced. “Bullshit you did.”

“I didn’t know he was Larry’s kid until I heard he’d died.”

This just makes Jonathan look angrier. “You know he was dating Hansen, right? Evan Hansen, the junior associate you’ve been trying to steal out from under my nose?”

At that Richard just looks puzzled. “Really?” 

“Really,” says another voice, and Connor looks to see Asher has joined Jonathan, Charles at his side, standing next to him protectively. “They were serious about each other. Really fucking serious. So do everyone a favor and get out of here before anyone else sees you. You don’t belong here.”

Richard looks at Asher, this long, hard look that’s this close to inappropriate, and Connor wants to punch the asshole himself. 

“I’ll escort you out,” says Levi Nachman, his voice dark, and with that, he and his husband are both taking Richard by an arm each and forcibly leading him out of the building. 

Asher lets out a shaky breath as soon as Richard’s out of the room. Charles puts his arm around his waist. “I hate that guy,” says Asher softly. 

“Me too,” says Jonathan, his voice stony. He looks… pissed, Connor thinks. 

None of them seem to realize that Connor’s even here. 

A few moments later, Levi and Jonah are back, looking older than Connor remembers. 

“Had a word with security,” says Levi, his tone matter-of-fact. “He won’t be getting back in.”

“Good,” says Charles, sounding relieved. “Good, he… he shouldn’t be here, Evan shouldn’t have to deal with that today.” He looks at Asher, his expression concerned, and Connor’s suddenly very aware that there’s a piece of this puzzle he’s missing, that there’s something he doesn’t know.

From how shaken up Asher looks, Connor’s pretty sure he’s figured it out. 

Fuck. 

Fuck, what a fucking asshole. 

How fucking dare he show up at Connor’s funeral, what the actual fuck?

Connor looks at this group of men he only really tangentially knows and feels gratitude, genuine gratitude for getting Richard out of here. 

If Evan had seen him…

Oh god. 

Evan. 

Evan’s going to be here. 

At Connor’s funeral. 

Connor’s funeral, that he’s walking around at like a ghost, and fuck this is horrifying, this is terrible, he doesn’t want to be here, this can’t be real. 

This can’t be fucking real. 

“This isn’t real,” he says aloud. 

No one hears him. 

* * *

Evan’s hands were shaking too hard to knot his tie. 

He’d fucked it up when he got dressed and now he was standing in the private room in the back of the funeral home, in front of a mirror, trying to redo it but he couldn’t. His hands were shaking too hard. 

“Here.” 

Larry Murphy stepped in front of Evan. He had red eyes, and his nose and cheeks were tinged pink. Evan hadn’t actually seen Larry cry but he knew that he had. His fingers were gentle and efficient as they knotted the tie around Evan’s neck. He tied a four-in-hand. Evan normally tied a half windsor. He gently tugged the knot into place at the base of Evan’s throat, then patted Evan’s shoulder gingerly. 

“There,” He said. “You’re set.”

Evan looked briefly at Larry. “Th-thanks,” He said. 

“Of course.”

Zoe was dabbing at her eyes with a tissue. Cynthia was sitting his mom, their hands clasped tightly. Evan’s mother had needed to buy a new dress. Heels. 

She hadn’t flown here for a funeral. 

“It’s time,” Zoe said. 

They followed her lead. Evan moved slowly, mechanically, as if compelled by a force outside of himself. 

There were so many people. 

So many people, filling in the rows and rows and rows of seats. 

Watching them as they walked inside. 

Evan wasn’t really there. 

He wasn’t really there. 

He couldn’t be at Connor’s funeral. He couldn’t be. He didn’t want to be here. 

His mom held his hand. Gave it a tight squeeze. He knew that his dad had offered to fly in from Denver, but Evan had said no. 

Carl had never even met Connor. 

How did he know that…?

Evan didn’t actually remember having a conversation with his dad about it, he didn’t. He just knew, had this sort of hazy certainty.

This wasn’t real it wasn’t real…

Evan blinked a few times because. 

Connor was looking at him. 

That was impossible. 

Because Connor was in a casket at the front of the room, he was in a box that Evan was walking towards. 

But he was also in the crowd. 

He looked… 

Like himself. Not emaciated and too pale. Not with huge dark circles under his eyes and several days of stubble. 

He looked like Connor. Evan’s Connor. In skinny jeans and a blazer that always made him look so damn good. His hair tied up in a slightly messy bun. His eyes warm and beautiful and…

And imaginary. 

Evan was imagining him. Again. 

_Stop it._

“Come on,” Evan heard Connor say quietly. “Come on, Evan, look at me. Please look at me.”

Connor looked straight at him. Evan looked back. 

Pretend. He was pretending. 

He couldn’t be doing this now. He flinched away, turned his head, dropped his gaze. They were nearly at the front now. Evan was supposed to follow Zoe up to the casket. 

The casket they would be closing soon. 

Evan had never been to a funeral with an open casket before. 

He wished that wasn’t changing. He hated the sight of Connor in that box. 

“I’m right here,” his mom said to him quietly. “I’ll be right here.”

He murmured his thanks and took his place beside Zoe, gazing into the casket. The Connor inside better matched how he had looked in the hospital. Hair down. Face pale. Cheeks sunken. 

Eyes closed. 

Evan had never seen this suit before. 

And the tie was Evan’s own. Maroon. Connor liked to pull him in for a kiss with it. 

He hated that they’d put him in a tie. Connor never wore ties. Never. 

But when his family insisted, Evan gave them one of his. 

Bury it. 

Evan wanted to bury it. 

Zoe touched her hand to the varnished wood, and looked at Evan. “It’s really fucking hard to find a casket that’s kind of punk rock. Goth? Sure. But like medium punk? Really fucking hard.”

Evan tried to smile at her. Smile at her joke. She was coping with humor. She was coping and he wasn’t. 

He wasn’t. 

The officiant approached to speak to Zoe and Evan as Cynthia and Larry stopped at the casket. Evan couldn’t hear what the woman was saying, like her voice was coming to him from underwater. Like his ears were full of cotton. Evan just nodded when he saw Zoe nod, smiled a little when he saw her mouth shift or move. 

He was distracted because he kept looking at Connor. 

The other one. The one in his mind who was standing among the crowd, almost blending in, and always looking right back at him. 

_Stop it,_ Evan commanded himself. 

Zoe looked at him, her face concerned. “Is something -?”

He shook his head. “There’s just. A lot. Of people.”

“Yeah,” Zoe said. 

Evan thought there might have been a saying about crowded funerals. He didn’t fucking know. 

* * *

More and more people start to arrive, and the venue begins to fill up, and Connor’s not sure what to do with himself. Not sure what to do, where to stand. Is he supposed to sit? Who does he sit with? 

Who the fuck do you sit with at your own funeral?

And then people start to look at a side door and Connor’s aware with a horrible stabbing in his chest that his family has arrived. 

There are his parents, clasping onto each other like he’s never seen them before, not even when he was younger, when they were actually married and in love. His dad is holding his mom protectively, like he can somehow keep her safe from the grief, and he is walking in the room with his head held steady, silent and stoic, just like Connor pictures him in his head. 

His eyes are red. 

He’s clearly been crying. 

There’s Zoe, in a black dress and a blazer, and she’s holding her head steady, just like their dad, but there’s so much grief in her face, so much. 

And there’s Evan. 

He’s with his mom. He’s wearing a black suit, a suit he doesn’t wear that often, as he usually favors charcoal, navy, light grey… other colors over black. 

Connor knows, somewhere deep inside him, that this Evan will never wear that suit again. 

It’s a weird feeling, knowing this. He doesn’t know where it’s coming from, but he knows it, as certainly as he knows that he can’t breathe fire and the sky is blue and this is his funeral. 

He looks… hazy. Blank. Like he’s not really there, like he’s not really anywhere. 

Connor looks straight at him. 

“Come on,” he finds himself saying softly to himself. “Come on, Evan, look at me. Please look at me.”

Evan looks at him. Flinches. 

Blinks. 

His shoulders sag. 

He looks away. 

Connor’s heart feels like it might be disintegrating, crumbling away inside of him.

Evan follows Zoe to the front of the venue, to where a coffin is sitting on some kind of stand. It’s this deep, dark, nicely varnished brown, almost red, and it’s kind of nice, Connor thinks. Zoe looks at it, rests her hand on it for a moment then says something Connor can’t hear, and Evan kind of nods and tries to smile, this horrible, fake attempt at a smile, which is over almost before it begins. 

There’s a woman Connor doesn’t recognize in a pantsuit, hair pulled back into elaborate braids, holding some kind of folder, who comes over to Zoe and puts her hand on her shoulder. Zoe nods and Evan’s standing there, nodding a second after Zoe nods each time, and Connor just knows that he’s going through the motions, he’s just putting on a show. 

Evan’s gaze keeps drifting. 

To Connor. 

Connor wants to do something, to make some kind of big scene, but he can’t, he just can’t, somehow. He wants to run up and tell Evan that he’s here, that he’s real, that he’s so fucking sorry, but he just… he can’t. 

He thinks about it, and his legs won’t move. 

Like someone else is pulling the strings. 

Something else. 

Connor doesn’t fucking know. 


	35. THIRTY-FOUR

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> “He was more than just our boss. He was our friend."

There were so many damn people. 

Evan sat beside his mom. She wrapped her arm around his shoulder. She said he had been so brave. Evan wasn’t brave. 

If he was brave he would be here, actually be here, be present. If he was brave, he wouldn’t be hallucinating a secondary Connor among the crowd of mourners. 

The casket had been closed. 

It clicked shut with an awful finality. 

Zoe and the Murphys took their seats beside him. Evan didn’t deserve to be in the front with them. With family. 

The officiant began to speak. 

Evan couldn’t focus. Instead he looked around. At the displays of photographs, just a little too far away for him to see properly from this vantage point. Connor had teased him that he probably needed glasses. Called him old. 

Then he fucking died. 

The display of photos was nice, Evan supposed. Pictures of Connor throughout his life on display for the world. Connor with goofy ears and missing teeth. Connor fast asleep while Zoe stuck a finger in his nose. Connor with slightly shaggy hair, scowling and showing off his driver’s license. Connor in a dorm room, sitting beside a boy Evan didn’t recognize, with a bi pride flag hanging behind them. 

The Murphys all together at Connor’s high school graduation. Then again at Zoe’s, though their smiles in that one were tighter, more forced. 

Connor with Edgar on his shoulders. 

Connor and Evan and Edgar on Thanksgiving. 

Connor and Evan and Andi at some weird fucking theatre production because apparently they went to those now.

Connor with the bookstore kids at the holidays. Connor introducing someone at an open mic at The Little Book Nook. Connor with Gladys and Martha at the disastrous opening party. 

Evan and Connor, together, a dumb selfie snapped after brunch one weekend that Evan had posted on Instagram. Because for a minute he was a normal man with a normal life. A boyfriend he loved. He’d asked for the photo so easily, so cavalier, thinking that he and Connor would have years of stupid selfies together, that this would be just one of many. 

Evan tried to focus on the photos on display. But they couldn’t hold his gaze. It kept being pulled back to the Connor of his imagination who was watching the proceedings with a pained expression on his face. Watching and looking horrified and sad and Evan wanted to ask him if he could please, at least, as a hallucination, do him a favor and sit with him. 

Because, really, what good was it hallucinating if your hallucination didn’t help?

“I don’t think I can do this,” Evan said to his mom. 

“You can,” She said, squeezing his hand. “You are.”

* * *

The service, or whatever you call it, begins. The woman with the braids is talking, saying something about celebrating Connor’s life, and this absolutely, one hundred percent cannot be happening. 

Connor looks around the room and sees more and more faces he recognizes. There’s Sabrina and Graham. Sabrina’s openly sobbing and Graham looks devastated, his arm around Sabrina protectively, clearly trying to keep his shit together for her. Every now and then he blinks, scrunches up his face like he’s trying to stop himself from crying, and wipes at his face with irritation, which just makes Connor sad. 

Andi’s sitting with Margot and Eddie, who both look like they can’t quite believe this is happening. Margot and Eddie exchange a couple of words every now and then, Connor notices, but they’re not really paying attention to Andi, they’re not really looking after her, and that’s… not fair, Connor thinks. 

Someone should be looking after Andi. 

She’s sitting four rows behind Evan. 

He can see Evan. 

God, he looks so fucking wrecked, and Connor did this. 

He did this. 

He wants to go over to him, he wants to drag him away, to tell him that Connor’s real, that Connor’s here, somehow. That maybe he’s a ghost, or an abandoned memory, but he’s _here_ and he’ll stay if Evan wants him to. 

The moment the thought is fully formed in Connor’s mind, he realizes how cruel it is. 

How cruel it would be if Evan were the only person who could see him. 

If he stayed, an apparition, that only Evan could see. 

It’s…

It’s too cruel for words, the idea that he’d be _haunting_ Evan. 

Haunting the man he loves. 

Connor looks around and sees more and more faces. Lots of customers from the bookstore - some he knows well, some he only remembers in passing. There’s the guy who always gets travel books but never goes anywhere and the kid who plays the banjo at open mics sometimes. There’s the little old lady who buys books for her grandkids and laments the youth of today’s reliance on technology. The young adult author whose first book Connor had genuinely loved, read dozens of times, and their partner, the singer with the blue hair and the fluffy dog. There’s the pair of teenage boys who spent hours together in the sunshine spot last summer and reminded Connor so much of what he and Evan might have been like if they’d actually become friends a long, long time ago. 

There are his suppliers, people he’s worked with since he bought the store, Marco and Caroline, sitting together looking somber. Friends from college, all sitting together - Andre, Dave, Mikhail, even his old roommate Joel who he doesn’t think he’s seen since he moved back to Ohio to help look after his mom who’d gotten sick and needs full-time care. Joel looks older and completely, one hundred percent exhausted, like he hasn’t slept in days. 

In the back row, there are other people Connor vaguely recognizes and it takes him a moment to realize that these are people he’d only ever seen photographs of before. These are people whose books he’s edited, who are here because of his work with Leatherbird, which is…

Well, he’s been so busy with The Little Book Nook that he’s kind of been neglecting his other business recently. It’s jarring, a little, to see the authors there. 

It’s even more jarring when he realizes that among those authors is Jenny. 

Jenny, who looks a little awkward, like she’s not sure if she should be there, but stoic and respectful, like the rest of the group of authors, and it occurs to Connor that in this universe, he doesn’t know Jenny Parson at all. 

That should make him sad, he knows, but instead he’s just kind of relieved. 

He royally fucked up there. 

Completely and utterly fucked up.

Connor looks up to see that the woman with the braids has sat down, and Maureen has taken her place at the front of the room, next to his coffin, holding a book. Her hair is mint-green and freshly colored, and Jax and Leslie are standing either side of her. She’s holding the microphone, and her hands are visibly shaking.

“I’m Maureen,” she says, her voice so small. “This is Leslie and Jax, and we work at The Little Book Nook with Connor. He was…” She closes her eyes for a moment, and Jax wraps their arm around her protectively. She opens her eyes and looks out into the crowd. “He was more than just our boss. He was our friend. He looked after us. I…” She straightens up her shoulders, blinks a few times and continues. “When I was seventeen, I came out as trans to my parents and they kicked me out. For a long time, I didn’t have any family. And then I started working at The Little Book Nook, and Connor… he’s always looked out for me, made me feel like I belonged, made me feel like there was a place where I could be myself and that would be okay.” 

Connor feels every word like a stab to the chest, like a punch to the gut. 

Maureen takes another deep breath. Jax holds her closer to them. 

“Connor told me once that he wanted to make sure that The Little Book Nook was a place that felt like home to people, because it did to him,” Maureen continues, and Connor’s finding it hard to breathe, because he remembers this conversation, and this hurts to hear, hurts to remember. “I don’t… I don’t know if he realized that The Little Book Nook felt like home to people _because_ of him _._ Because he made people feel like they mattered. And…” She sniffs, and keeps going, Leslie holding onto her other hand tightly, Jax’s arm wrapped around her. “It’s going to be really hard to do this without you, Connor. Really, really hard? But we’re going to do our best. We’re going to try and make people feel like they’re home in your bookstore, because you always did, and we want to do right by you. We love you, and we miss you, and… the three of us, we picked out a poem for you, and I’m going to read it now.” 

Maureen turns the page in the book she’s holding, takes another steadying breath and begins to read. 

_“Hope” is the thing with feathers -_

_That perches in the soul -_

_And sings the tune without the words -_

_And never stops - at all -_

_And sweetest - in the Gale - is heard -_

_And sore must be the storm -_

_That could abash the little Bird_

_That kept so many warm -_

_I’ve heard it in the chillest land -_

_And on the strangest Sea -_

_Yet - never - in Extremity,_

_It asked a crumb - of me._

Fuck. 

Fuck. 

Fuck. 

Connor can’t do anything. He can’t do anything, all he can do is stand there, in the back of the room at his funeral, watching as his closest friends cry and read a poem and talk about him, and he can’t do anything but watch, can’t do anything but stand there and leave them alone with their grief, because he’s not really here. 

* * *

Evan watched as Maureen, Jax, and Leslie made their way to the front. Maureen spoke, but Evan barely heard her words. 

Edgar should be with them.

It…

How had he not thought of that?

The cat should be with them. He was as much a part of the bookstore family… Edgar should be with them. It wasn’t fair to exclude him just because he was a cat. It wasn’t fair. 

But then again, what about this was fair? 

What about any of this was fair?

Evan knew he was being watched by the Connor his mind had made for him, but he avoided looking back because he couldn’t make a scene at Connor’s funeral. Connor’s funeral, now with bonus Connors. 

Evan almost smiled to himself. 

He was so sick. He was seriously sick in the head. 

What the fuck was the matter with him?

He needed to be present. 

His mom kept saying that to him. “Let yourself feel this baby. It’ll hurt worse if you don’t.”

Evan tried so hard. Not to be hazy and half there and distracted. He tried so hard not to be crazy and trying to talk to ghosts he had invented. He blinked hard and did his best to listen to Maureen. Watch her lips move, take in her soft voice as she read a poem aloud. 

Emily Dickinson was full of shit about hope though, Evan thought. 

Hope wasn’t resilient. 

Hope was dangerous. Painful. 

Had Evan never hoped, this pain wouldn’t be so great. Had he never hoped, he wouldn’t be sitting at a funeral with two versions of his dead boyfriend lingering around. If he hadn’t been so stupid as to hope, he might have avoided Connor all together, he might have never felt this. 

He had told Connor once that he didn’t regret it. How they had met again, fallen in love. 

Evan realized now how fucking wrong that was. He regretted everything because Connor was dead, really dead. He wasn’t going to respawn in Andi’s bathroom, he wasn’t going to wake up and come back and try again. He wouldn’t loop he wouldn’t get hit by a bus or fall down stairs and be fine in a few minutes. 

He was just gone. 

Except for in Evan’s broken mind. 


	36. THIRTY-FIVE

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> "It was too close a call to get away without any fallout. Way too close a call.”

The service really isn’t long at all. Aside from Maureen, only a few other people speak. Joel and Andre tell a couple of PG-rated stories from college, including the memorable occasion where the three of them tried to walk through the McDonald’s drive-through but the guy at the window wouldn’t let them order because they weren’t in a vehicle, so they broke into the drama department and stole a wheelchair from the props room, as a wheelchair is technically a vehicle. 

Connor appreciates that neither of them mention how high they all were at the time, though from some of the laughter in the crowd, he’s fairly certain most people got the memo. 

Then Zoe’s at the front of the room, her head held high, almost defiantly. 

Their parents flank her on either side. 

Connor’s heart aches for them, aches watching them, remembering how he had been so sure at the age of seventeen that the Murphy family would be better off with just three members. That everything would be better without him, that he was a dark stain on the otherwise perfect family, that without him, they’d get to have the life that his bullshit had deprived them of. 

He doesn’t think that now. 

He wishes he could do something. 

Something, anything. 

He wishes he could hold Zoe’s hand while she did this. 

“Some people say that having a sibling means always having a friend,” says Zoe, her voice steady and even. “Whoever said that probably didn’t have siblings.”

There’s laughter in the crowd. A sad, choking sound. 

“Connor and I were not always friends,” Zoe continues, looking out into the crowd. She looks… calm, almost. “For a long time, we didn’t really like each other all that much. We fought and we yelled and we took low blows at each other, we said things designed to hurt because we knew each other so well.” She flinches a little. “I thought we did. I thought I knew my brother. I thought I had him all figured out, and the person I thought he was? He wasn’t someone I wanted in my life.” 

Connor swallows hard. 

Zoe closes her eyes, then opens them again. 

“But it turns out that I didn’t know Connor at all,” she continues, her voice getting stronger. “Not really. Over the past two years, I got to know the real Connor, because he met someone special, someone who understood, someone who saw him for who he really was and brought out the best in him.” 

From where he’s standing, Connor can see that Zoe’s looking straight at Evan. 

“I spent years without Connor,” says Zoe, tears streaming down her face now. “Years not really knowing him. Years not realizing that underneath the pain and the loneliness and isolation and bad brain chemistry was someone incredible. Someone who cares so damn much, who wants to make things better for people. Someone who’s been through hell and come out the other side not expecting that just because he went through it, everyone else should have to. Someone who’s been through hell and wants to make sure no one else has to feel that way. Someone who’s created an environment where people feel safe, who has taken something he’s passionate about and made it his whole life, who wasn’t afraid to put in the work and do what needed to be done to make things better, not just for himself, but for other people, too.”

Zoe blinks once. Twice. Keeps looking straight at Evan.

“Evan, you gave me my brother back,” she says, and her voice is shaking now. “And I am so, so, so sorry he’s gone, it’s not fair to you or me or anyone who ever met him, because he deserved more time to be who he was always supposed to be. Who you helped him become. I… I don’t know what happens after we die, I have no damn clue, I don’t even really understand what happened to him…”

Zoe breaks down crying. Their mom wraps her arms around her and holds her tight, and they stand there for a moment, before Zoe pulls away, wipes her face and holds up the microphone again, eyes blazing with determination. 

“I don’t know any of that,” she continues, her voice ragged. “But I know that he loved you, Evan. You were the love of his life. And nothing will change that.”

* * *

Evan finally heard the story about Connor and Andre, the wheelchair, and the McDonald’s drive-through. He didn’t even know one of the guys telling it. His name was Joel. He said he had been Connor’s roommate at Columbia. 

Evan had never met Joel. 

He didn’t know…

How much else about Connor would he be forced to learn only after Connor was gone? How the fuck was that fair?

Then again how the fuck was any of this fair? His boyfriend was dead and Evan was also imagining him. This was bullshit. 

Everything was bullshit. 

Zoe and her parents got up from their seats. 

_Her_ parents. 

Not hers and Connor’s anymore. Not really. 

Funny how fast his mind had made that switch, that adjustment. Funny. 

Only it wasn’t funny at all. 

Evan fiddled with the end of his tie. His mom steadied his hands. Evan wasn’t speaking because he had no voice he had no thoughts he had nothing to share. If you stuck a microphone in his face he would just scream until his voice gave out. He had nothing to offer. 

Zoe was going to speak. 

Evan wanted to turn off his brain. He didn’t want to hear it. He didn’t want to be here he didn’t want to feel this. 

“Let yourself feel this,” His mom had said. 

So he tried. 

Zoe took the microphone. Her voice was steady, calm, even. She should give TEDtalks, Evan thought.

Was he clearly thinking about something else? Yes. 

What the fuck was coping?

“Some people say that having a sibling means always having a friend. Whoever said that probably didn’t have siblings.”

People laugh, this sort of sad chuckle of agreement. 

“Connor and I were not always friends. For a long time, we didn’t really like each other all that much. We fought and we yelled and we took low blows at each other, we said things designed to hurt because we knew each other so well. I thought we did. I thought I knew my brother. I thought I had him all figured out, and the person I thought he was? He wasn’t someone I wanted in my life.” 

Had Evan read this speech ahead of time, he might have suggested she soften that. Not that Zoe was a soft person. Not that she sugarcoated things. But he might have suggested… Not that. 

Because he didn’t want Connor to hear it. 

Imaginary Connor, living in Evan’s brain. 

Who wasn’t real.

_Stop it._

“But it turns out that I didn’t know Connor at all. Not really. Over the past two years, I got to know the real Connor, because he met someone special, someone who understood, someone who saw him for who he really was and brought out the best in him.” 

Zoe looked right at Evan. 

She looked right at him. 

Fuck. 

Fuck fuck no. 

No she… 

He hadn’t agreed to that, he didn’t… She shouldn’t be talking about Evan. Evan didn’t matter here. He didn’t. This was Connor’s funeral for fuck’s sake she shouldn’t be talking about him. 

She shouldn’t be giving him any credit. He didn’t do anything. He’d killed her brother. He’d gotten him killed. He had gotten Connor killed and now he was hallucinating at his funeral. 

Zoe began to cry. She talked about all of the wonderful things about Connor that the world was going to miss now that he was gone. She cried. 

Evan cried. 

He didn’t want to… 

He couldn’t hear this. He didn’t want to hear this. 

Zoe looked at Evan directly. 

He wished she wouldn’t. 

He didn’t deserve her kindness. Evan had gotten her brother killed.

“Evan, you gave me my brother back. And I am so, so, so sorry he’s gone, it’s not fair to you or me or anyone who ever met him, because he deserved more time to be who he was always supposed to be. Who you helped him become. I… I don’t know what happens after we die, I have no damn clue, I don’t even really understand what happened to him…”

Zoe broke down crying. 

Evan’s mom held his hand tightly. “Baby you need to breathe,” She said gently. 

He wasn’t breathing, Evan realized. He wasn’t breathing. He was holding his breath because he didn’t deserve to breathe he didn’t deserve to exist not after what he had done.

“I don’t know any of that,” Zoe finally said, her voice ragged but still strong. “But I know that he loved you, Evan. You were the love of his life. And nothing will change that.”

Fuck. 

Fuck. 

Evan didn’t bother to wipe his face. He looked back at Zoe, kept his eyes fixed on her… Fixed on her and not on the other Connor who was moving around in the back of the room. He owed her. He owed it to Zoe to return her gaze. He owed it to her not to be distracted by some silly delusion. Not right now.

* * *

Connor can’t stand this anymore. 

He can’t. 

He can’t he can’t he can’t be here he just can’t. 

He turns away as his sister sits down, turns and tries to head for the door. 

“Hey man.”

Connor turns suddenly, almost violently, as he hears a voice he thinks he knows. 

There’s Otis, his guitar slung over his shoulder, wearing the combat boots he and Evan gave him over the winter. 

“This isn’t real,” Connor says, suddenly remembering. “You’re the proof that this isn’t real. I’m not really dead.”

“You’re not,” says Otis, looking sympathetic. “But you could be. You almost were.”

“But I’m not,” Connor insists. “I’m not. I woke up, I… they took me out of the fucking ICU, I’m okay now. It’s all okay.”

“I’m so fucking sorry, dude,” says Otis, and he sounds genuinely upset. “But this isn’t going to just be over like that. It was too close a call to get away without any fallout. Way too close a call.”

“Why does this keep happening to me?” Connor asks desperately. “Why do these fucked up things keep happening? To me, to Evan? What did we do to deserve this?”

“Nothing,” says Otis simply. “The universe is just… a dick, as far as I can tell.” He winces. “I… I thought I was getting better. I really did.”

Connor frowns. “What does that mean?”

“None of this is fair,” says Otis, and punches him in the face. 

* * *

The gathering of people cleared gradually, after the pallbearers carried the casket out of the building. To the hearse. Everyone trickled out slowly behind the Murphys, Evan, and his mom. 

Evan’s hallucinated Connor was nowhere to be seen. 

He was almost angry about that. Like, if he had to be imagining this, couldn’t his fucked-up mind let him hold on to his imaginary boyfriend until the end of the day? Like some fucked up twist on Cinderella?

Or Casper? The Christina Ricci one. 

Evan had always liked that movie. Ghosts finding love appealed to him as a kid. 

That was fucking saying something.

He was supposed to be present but he couldn’t be present. He was distracted and crazy. Evan was absent and strange and he just wanted this to be over. 

He couldn’t let himself feel it because he felt too much else. Guilt. Shame. Sorrow. How could he be present, how could he sit with this, let himself feel this when there was so much else to feel?

Evan and his mother followed the Murphys to the limo they were taking between the funeral venue and the cemetery. It was a nice day, so they had opted for a graveside service. 

The ride was quiet. 

“That was beautiful Zoe,” Cynthia said at length. 

“Thank you,” She said softly. She looked at Evan, her eyes blazing, saying something only he couldn’t interpret what it meant. 

Evan wished she hadn’t said those kind things about him. He wished she hadn’t mentioned him at all. 

Evan didn’t deserve the things she had said. The credit she had given. The thanks. 

He didn’t deserve her kindness. 

He was the reason Connor was gone. Maybe not directly, but he knew it to be true, in his core, in his bones. If he hadn’t caused the loops then Connor wouldn’t be dead. 

It was his fault. 

“Zoe,” Evan, finally finding his voice as they stepped out of the car at the cemetery. 

“Yeah?”

“Can I… can I talk to you for a second?” Evan asked. 

“Is something… What’s up?” Zoe looked worried. 

Evan’s eyes flooded. “I… Shouldn’t be here.”

Zoe looked confused. “I don’t understand.”

“This is my fault.”

Zoe’s face fell. “No.”

“I’m the reason he’s dead,” Evan went on. “I know it… I know it doesn’t make sense but. If I… If I’d gotten to him sooner. Gotten him to the hospital sooner. If I’d… If I had been there… or I hadn’t made him sign that fucking will… If I…” His voice broke. He cleared his throat. “It’s my fault. My fault.”

“No,” Zoe said, her voice gentle. She pulled Evan into a hug like he was a fragile, breakable thing. “No, no, Evan. This isn’t your fault. None of this… You did everything you could.”

He shook his head. “I didn’t. I couldn’t. I fucked up, I _failed_ him. I failed. I failed him… I could have been there more… I -”

“You did everything you could for him. You loved him. This isn’t your fault.”

“I love him,” Evan said, desperate, pleading, begging her to understand. 

“I know you did.”

“No,” Evan said. “I do. I love him. Still. I love him now. I love him.”

“Okay,” Zoe said. “Okay.”


	37. THIRTY-SIX

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> "I tried so fucking hard, okay? I tried so hard to get back to you.”

Connor’s at the side of an open grave. 

His grave. 

They’re lowering the casket, they’re covering it with dirt and…

Connor’s here, somehow. 

Across the grave, he can see Evan flinch, look at him with this defiant expression, almost like he’s offended. 

“I’m so fucking sorry,” Connor says, not knowing what else to say. 

Evan looks even angrier at that.

Connor just stands there and watches as people say their final goodbyes, as his parents and his sister and Maureen and Leslie and Jax say goodbye to his coffin, unable to move, and Evan’s there, standing next to his mom, just looking… furious. 

Soon, it’s just Evan and Heidi, standing there. 

And Connor. 

“Can I have a moment alone?” Evan asks his mom, never looking away from Connor. 

Heidi squeezes his hand, then nods. Kisses him on the cheek. 

And then it’s just Evan and Connor. 

Standing either side of a hole in the ground. 

It’s quiet for a moment, until Evan breaks the silence. 

“Fuck you.”

Connor sighs. “That’s… fair, I guess.”

Evan lets out this harsh laugh. “I mean… fuck, if I’m going to be stuck with the hallucination of my dead boyfriend, can’t you at least be fucking consistent? Where the fuck did you go?”

“I have no idea,” Connor confesses. “Otis punched me in the face.”

Evan looks at him. Laughs that harsh laugh again. “Otis is just a guy with mental health problems,” he says, looking at Connor challengingly. “Just a guy who went off his meds. None of that… none of that stuff we thought about him was real? None of it. He told me. When you were in a coma, he fucking told me.” Evan glares at him. “He came up to me. Thanked me for when-when we gave him that backpack? The day after your birthday? He was going to go to the bookstore and buy a book with his first paycheck. To thank you for it.”

Connor doesn’t know what to say. “Fuck.”

Evan looks even angrier, if possible. 

“How dare you be here?”

“I’m sorry-”

“Connor’s dead, the love of my fucking life is dead but I-I-I get you? I get a ghost? What kind of fucked-up consolation prize is that?”

“Evan, I’m sorry,” Connor says, as forcefully as he can. “I never wanted… I tried so fucking hard, okay? I tried so hard to get back to you.”

Evan just glares. “Bullshit.”

“I did!” Connor insists. “I fucking  _ did, _ I… I let some weirdo scientist who died and died and died, just like us, inject me with LSD and put me in a salt tank and electrocute me to try to get back to you. I… fuck, I got into a bathtub full of ice and let the same guy stop my heart, just to try to get back.”

Evan frowns. “A bathtub full of ice?”

“Yeah,” says Connor, trying to explain. “It… fuck, I’m still cold, it’s still so fucking cold, I’m always cold.”

As he says that, something shifts in the air. 

He feels like he’s taken a bite into aluminum foil. 

Something isn’t right. 

And then he remembers. 

“Otis said I’m not dead,” Connor says slowly. “That this isn’t real.”

Evan just stares at him.

* * *

The casket was lowered into the ground. 

Cynthia was sobbing so loudly, Larry was practically holding her up, and all Evan could feel was fury, total and complete anger. Not at Cynthia. 

At Connor. 

Specifically, the one looking at Evan from across the grave. 

Fuck him. 

Fuck this imaginary… thing. 

Cynthia was putting her son in the ground. Zoe was losing her brother. Larry never repaired things between them. All of these people were missing Connor, mourning Connor and this hallucination had the gall to show up again. 

Fuck that. 

“I’m so fucking sorry,” Hallucination Connor said. 

Evan had to clench his hands into fists to stop himself from leaping across the grave and battering this figment of his imagination to a pulp. 

Because that made sense. 

Fuck, his brain was a nightmare. 

People cleared, one by one, until it was only Evan and his mother left at the graveside. 

Evan and his mother and his hallucination. 

“Can I have a moment alone?” Evan asked his mom, his eyes never leaving the face of this imagined thing wearing Evan’s boyfriend’s face. 

She squeezed his hand and kissed his cheek, but then his mom strode away.

Leaving Evan and Connor to stare at each other from either side of the grave Connor was just buried in. 

Talk about impossible situations. 

Evan spoke first, unable to hold back. “Fuck you.”

Connor sighed, like he was… expecting it. “That’s… fair, I guess.”

Evan laughed, caught off guard, and the noise that escaped him was caustic and biting. Of fucking course. Of course he would be charming and fair. Of course he would sound exactly like Evan’s Connor, the real one, the one in the box in the ground. Fuck him. Fuck him. He hated him he hated this he hated everything. He hated that he was here at all, he hated that the hallucination of Connor had left him alone. Evan felt his anger bubbling over, “I mean… fuck, if I’m going to be stuck with the hallucination of my dead boyfriend, can’t you at least be fucking consistent? Where the fuck did you go?”

“I have no idea,” Connor answered, and he sounded genuine. He sounded sincere. “Otis punched me in the face.”

What kind of fucking bullshit?

Evan laughed again. 

His brain needed to work on deciding what he did and didn’t believe. It was exhausting for Evan to try to keep up anymore. “Otis is just a guy with mental health problems. Just a guy who went off his meds.” Like Evan was. And now he was hallucinating. But that went without saying. He was, after all, talking to one such hallucination. “None of that… none of that stuff we thought about him was real? None of it. He told me. When you were in a coma, he fucking told me. He came up to me. Thanked me for when-when we gave him that backpack? The day after your birthday? He was going to go to the bookstore and buy a book with his first paycheck. To thank you for it.”

Hallucination Connor looked upset. “Fuck.”

Evan saw red. He simply saw red, there was no explanation, one moment he was a person and the next he was boiled down to an essence of pure rage. Inside he was screaming boiling over with hate, but outside his voice was ice cold, “How dare you be here?”

“I’m sorry-”

Evan couldn’t, wouldn’t let this  _ thing _ speak to him more. It wasn’t fair it wasn’t fair it wasn’t fair. “Connor’s dead, the love of my fucking life is dead but I-I-I get you? I get a ghost? What kind of fucked-up consolation prize is that?”

“Evan, I’m sorry. I never wanted…” The power behind his voice faltered. “I tried so fucking hard, okay? I tried so hard to get back to you.”

“Bullshit.” Evan glared at him.

“I did!” Connor looked like he might cry or ball his fists and beat at the ground like a child having a tantrum. He looked beside himself. A wild range of emotion for someone who wasn’t real. “I fucking  _ did, _ I… I let some weirdo scientist who died and died and died, just like us, inject me with LSD and put me in a salt tank and electrocute me to try to get back to you. I… fuck, I got into a bathtub full of ice and let the same guy stop my heart, just to try to get back.”

As if there wasn’t enough confirmation, Evan knew without a doubt now that he had Officially Lost It. That made no sense. No damn sense. “A bathtub full of ice?”

Connor hated bathtubs. Because he had tried to kill himself in one in high school. He hated bathtubs. Connor had the tub in the apartment above the bookstore ripped out and replaced with a shower because the tub bothered him sometimes. Connor would never just climb into one.

Connor nodded, looking a little… desperate. To explain. To be believed. It was almost lifelike, almost real, almost human. “Yeah. It… fuck, I’m still cold, it’s still so fucking cold, I’m always cold.”

That…

Wait.

Something… something in the back of Evan’s mind was trying to work itself loose. Something… Something important. Something that was different. 

Why was Connor cold…? Because he was dead. Right? Because he was dead?

Evan stared at this imaginary Connor.

He stared and stared and stared.

“Otis said I’m not dead,” Connor said, forming his words deliberately and slowly. “That this isn’t real.”

Evan stared. 

He stared and stared. “No, that’s… No. I watched you die. I watched.”

“Did you?” Connor pressed, his voice urgent. “What do you remember?”

“I… I held your hand. I said my goodbyes,” Evan said, still trying to remember. “I said goodbye. I said… I said if you had to go then you should. I. I said it was okay if-if you let go, and-and Zoe called the doctors… And you died.”

“No!” Connor said, insisted. “No. I didn’t. I… Evan, I think this isn’t real. Because I think I woke up.”

“No,” Evan said. “No that’s impossible.”

“Evan, please.”

“No,” He said, ignoring Connor’s ghost. “You’re not real. You’re… you’re a trauma response, a… You’re not here. Not really.”

“No,” Connor said. “But neither are you.”

“You’re dead,” Evan said. Whispered, almost, his head buzzing and swimming. “You died.”

“But you don’t remember!”

“I.. Shut up,” Evan barked. “No. You died. I went to your funeral and-and I loved you and… And you died. And. And I’m gonna die soon too.”

“What?” Connor said, shaking his head. 

Evan’s shoulders sagged. 

He felt like he had been carrying this weight around for weeks. Months. 

“I can’t… I can’t do this,” He said. “I’m so tired. So tired. I just want to be with Connor.” When the ghost tried to protest, Evan pressed on. “My Connor. The real one. The dead one. I want to be with him and I’m going to be soon.”

“But how…” Connor’s eyes popped wide. “No.”

“It’s okay,” Evan said his voice almost trying to be… soothing. Kind. Understanding. Of course this hallucination didn’t want him dead. It needed him to exist. He would be kind. He would be soft, gentle about the truth. The truth that Evan was going to die. The truth that he was going to kill himself and soon. He’d be gentle. “You’re not real. It’s gonna be okay for you. Once I die.”

“No.”

“It’s been building for weeks,” Evan said. “That’s part of why you’re here, isn’t it? Because I want to die again. I’ve been thinking about it since he got sick… It’s got to happen. Soon.” He gave Connor an almost smile. “Not that it’s not nice to see you it’s just that…. You’re not real. You’re not him. And I want to be with him.”

* * *

“I can’t… I can’t do this,” says Evan, and he looks like he’s being crushed, that he’s carrying a weight that’s too heavy for him, and it hurts to watch, it hurts so fucking much. “I’m so tired. So tired. I just want to be with Connor.” 

“I’m-”

“My Connor,” Evan interrupts. “The real one. The dead one. I want to be with him and I’m going to be soon.”

Connor doesn’t…

He can’t…

“But how…” 

It lands. 

What Evan is saying lands. 

“No.”

Evan looks… resigned. There’s something in his voice that’s almost gentle as he continues. “It’s okay,” he says, like he’s trying to make this better, like he’s trying to make Connor  _ feel _ better about the fact that he’s just admitted he’s going to kill himself. “You’re not real. It’s gonna be okay for you. Once I die.”

Connor’s horrified. 

Completely horrified. 

He can’t…

He doesn’t…

“No,” he says again. 

“It’s been building for weeks,” says Evan, and it’s like the weight he’s been carrying lifts, and he almost looks relieved. Relieved to be saying this, relieved to be getting it off his chest, and Connor can’t take it. “That’s part of why you’re here, isn’t it? Because I want to die again. I’ve been thinking about it since he got sick… It’s got to happen. Soon.” 

Connor tries to say something. 

Tries to figure out what to say. 

But he’s stuck. 

Evan’s face twists into something that might be a smile. “Not that it’s not nice to see you it’s just that…. You’re not real. You’re not him. And I want to be with him.”

Connor just stares. 

Feels his eyes start to sting. 

“No,” he says again, his voice ragged, broken, because this is…

This is unacceptable. 

He refuses. 

He fucking  _ refuses _ to lose Evan again. 

“I won’t let you,” he says, moving toward Evan, walking across his own grave, and reaching out to grab his arm. 

It goes right through him. 

His hand goes right through Evan’s arm. 

Evan just looks at him, his face soft. His voice soft. “There’s nothing you can do to stop me,” he says, so gently. “It was always going to be like this. I am  _ always _ going to be like this.”

Connor’s eyes open as someone shakes him roughly awake. 

“Connor. Connor, hey.”

Alex is standing next to his hospital bed, looking alarmed. “Are you okay?” 

Connor’s heart is going way too fast. 

It’s set off the monitor. 

He’s alive. 

He’s alive he’s alive he’s alive.

He-

“Evan.”

“He’s right here,” says Alex, gesturing to Connor’s other side, where Evan’s moving, blinking sleepily, like he’s just woken up. “And apparently, decided it was time for a nap.”

Evan’s eyes open wide. 

He looks around the room. 

Looks at Connor. 

Looks at the monitors which are still going nuts. 

“What’s going on?” he asks, sounding genuinely terrified. 

“I’m fine, I’m fine, I’m fine,” Connor repeats over and over again, but Evan’s looking more and more freaked out, and soon Alex is focusing on Evan because he’s having a panic attack, he’s having trouble breathing, and Connor can’t do anything he can’t he can’t he can’t fuck fuck fuck

It feels like forever before his heart monitor slows back down. 

Before Evan’s breathing evens out. 

Alex looks freaked out. Completely freaked out. 

“You need to go home and get some sleep,” she says to Evan, frowning. “I’ll call your mom.”

Evan takes Connor’s hand and kisses his knuckles. “I’m not going anywhere.”

Connor feels something in his chest loosen at Evan’s words. 

Alex doesn’t look impressed. “Evan. I’m serious. I’m calling Heidi.”

Evan looks at Alex challengingly. 

Opens his mouth like he’s going to argue. 

Then… doesn’t. 

Just.

Doesn’t. 

Connor feels his chest ache and tighten again. 

Evan shrugs. Nods. “Okay. Fine.” He presses another kiss to Connor’s knuckles. “Get some more rest. I love you.”

Evan leans in and kisses Connor’s cheek softly. 

So softly it makes Connor want to cry.

And then he’s gone. 


	38. THIRTY-SEVEN

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> “I’m handling it, okay? I’m trying. I’m handling it.”

“You had another panic attack?” His mom said, rubbing Evan’s back. He shrugged her off, because the action reminded him too much of his nightmare, his horrible far too realistic dream about Connor’s funeral.

Fuck he felt sick. 

“Baby, you look pretty pale.”

“I’m fine,” Evan said, breathing through his nose because he didn’t want to throw up in front of his mother. “Please stop babying me.”

His mom drew her hands back, looking… hurt. 

Shit. Evan didn’t want to hurt her. Shit. 

She was just all over him, hovering and scared and… He got it. He’d seen it, in Cynthia and Larry’s concern for Connor. He’d seen that fear and sadness, he had seen it. He understood abstractly that his mom would have that reaction to him struggling. He got it. She cared, she cared so deeply that she had dropped her whole life to help him through these past few hellish weeks. His mother loved him. 

But he didn’t fucking deserve it, and he wished she would back off. 

He didn’t deserve it. 

Evan was selfish and awful. He’d been drinking and sleepwalking his way through the last few weeks. 

Evan would have let Connor die without seeing him. 

He was going to let him die without seeing him. 

Evan’s mother had to convince him to go say goodbye to the love of his life.

She had seen right through him, seen how cowardly and pathetic Evan was. She saw it all and if not for her… 

Evan didn’t want to think about it. He didn’t want to think about any of it, think about how unworthy he was of all of this care and love from his mother, from Connor… 

He couldn’t handle it. He couldn’t. He wanted to shrug it off, duck out of it, dodge it because it made his insides squirm with guilt. Fuck he was so… 

He didn’t deserve this. 

“Look I… I haven’t been sleeping well. I fell asleep when I was visiting Connor and. I had a nightmare and when I woke up his heart monitor was going haywire, okay? I freaked out. It was… I’m fine. I just got scared.”

“Okay,” She said, nodding. “Okay.”

“I’m handling it, okay?” Evan said. “I’m trying. I’m handling it.”

His mom nodded. “I know you’re doing your best, sweetheart.

“I really am,” Evan said. 

Though he really couldn’t be certain if he meant it. 

“Why don’t I make you some tea?” His mom suggested. “Help you get some sleep?”

“Yeah,” Evan said. “Thank you. That would be good, thank you.” He settled back onto the sofa. He chewed at a hangnail, pulling on it until it bled. 

Shit. 

Shit. 

He pressed a kleenex to the blood, stared as the little cells of white tissue turned red. 

Evan swallowed hard. 

This was why when Alex told Evan to go home, he didn’t fight her. All Evan did was fight, he fucking argued for a living. He could have convinced her. He could have made a case for him staying. Because Evan had wanted to stay. He didn’t want to leave Connor, at all, but he couldn’t stand to be there, in the same space as him, knowing without a doubt that he wasn’t good enough for him. 

So he didn’t fight. 

It wasn’t right for Evan to keep fighting for Connor when he didn’t deserve him.

Connor was… so good. So good. And so alive and real and he cared so much. All of the things people had said about him in Evan’s dream about his funeral? It was all true. Connor had worked hard to build a home and a community for queer people. He loved so fiercely, so genuinely, and especially the people and things most often discarded. Because Connor didn’t deal in bullshit and loved what needed loving most.

Stray cats. A pair of little old lesbians. Homeless guitarists and eccentric nudist artists. Abandoned trans kids with shitty families. His devoted and hurt sister who had devoted her life to helping kids with mental health stuff. His mom who had sacrificed a lot of her happiness for her family. His father who was cold and distant and probably didn’t deserve it. Connor loved hard, and loved those who needed that kind of love. The unwavering kind.

Workaholic lawyers with mental health problems.

Evan wasn’t good enough for Connor. 

Because Evan was just  _ like _ this. He was broken and selfish. He put his own needs in front of everyone else’s, constantly, and couldn’t even be grateful when people cared about him. 

And he was always going to be like this. 

He was always going to be like this. 

Fuck.

* * *

Connor doesn’t dream the next time he sleeps. 

Or if he does, he doesn’t remember it. 

Not like the last one. Not like his funeral. 

Not like watching the people he loves mourn him, not being able to reach them, to say anything, to talk to them, to do anything but watch. 

Except for Evan. 

He could talk to Evan in the dream. 

Evan could see him in the dream. 

And Evan…

Evan was going to kill himself. 

The Evan in the dream was going to kill himself, because he wanted to be with Connor. 

Connor, who was dead and buried. 

Connor, who’d left him behind. 

But that was a dream. Just a dream. 

Connor keeps telling himself that it was just a dream. 

It just… felt so real. 

Especially knowing how impossible it is that Connor’s alive right now. That he’s awake, he’s talking, he’s responsive… it’s medically impossible, they tell him. 

A medical impossibility. 

His mom says it’s a miracle. An answer to prayer.

Connor’s not sure what it is but he doesn’t know if it has anything to do with prayer. Anything to do with some kind of benevolent higher power listening to his mom, listening to the desperate pleas of a parent who doesn’t want to lose her child. 

It would be nice, Connor thinks, if he could reliably believe in some kind of god’s willingness to intervene on his behalf, but there’s been too much in his life he can’t explain, too much that’s unnecessarily cruel - too much that doesn’t make sense with the way he’s been taught the universe works.

The universe is mysterious and arbitrary and has it out for Connor. 

And Evan. 

Evan’s not okay, he’s not okay, Connor  _ knows _ it, deep in his bones. And it makes sense that he’s not. It’s understandable that he’s not okay. Connor barely survived losing Evan in the other universe, barely survived without him, the only thing that kept him going was the knowledge that Evan was alive in this universe, that there might be a way to get back to him. 

He’d had hope. 

Evan… hadn’t, Connor is starting to realize. 

Because Connor should be dead. 

He should be in the ground, starting to decompose by now. 

Christ, that’s fucking dark. 

Evan said goodbye. He let him go. They were moments from pulling the plug when Connor got back, clawed his way back into this reality, freezing and spluttering, confusing the fuck out of every medical professional there and once again, sending Evan’s whole world into flux. 

In the dream, Evan said that he wanted to be with Connor. 

So he was going to kill himself. 

Because Connor was dead. 

Connor hates it, he hates it so much, he hates it he hates it he hates it. 

But he understands, because…

Fuck, wasn’t he about to do the same thing?

Wasn’t he preparing to do the same thing? 

Get back to Evan or die trying, he’d said to himself, back in the other reality. 

Without thinking about how it might affect his sister. Andi. His parents. Martha and Gladys. 

All those people at his funeral, there to pay their respects. 

He knows, without a shadow of a doubt, that a funeral in the other reality, in that timeline, would have been smaller. 

Much smaller. 

Because he’s better here. He’s better, he’s connected, he’s let himself care, stopped holding himself back and let himself be better. 

And it’s because he met Evan. 

It’s because of Evan. 

Zoe was right. Everything Zoe said in her speech at Connor’s imaginary dream funeral was right, was exactly right, was exactly what she would have said, and it was true. 

Connor is who is he now because he knows Evan. 

And he’s not letting Evan slip away. 

He refuses to let Evan go. Refuses to let him down. 

So he has to get well. Has to recover, to force his body to do what it needs to do. He has to get home to his business, his apartment, his cat, his  _ life. _

He has to get things back to normal, get things back to how they should be, has to help Evan claw his way back to normal, too, because Connor knows how easy it is to fall. 

It’s so easy to fall. 

Connor needs to save Evan. Save him the way he couldn’t save him in the other universe, save him the way Evan saved him. They way they saved each other. 

So he has to recover. He has to get healthy, he has to get out of this fucking hospital, he has to get home. 

He has to. 

* * *

Evan knew he needed to catch up on sleep. He knew he needed to take better care of himself if he was going to be any use to Connor in the coming weeks…

And yet he set his alarm for his usual time. 

Got up and worked for a little while.

Researched and purchased his mom’s return ticket, so she could go home on Monday. If she stayed with him any longer, Evan was going to lose it. She had been wonderful, amazing, and so beyond patient but… 

There was only so much mothering Evan could take. 

So he was sending her home. 

He was going to get his fucking life back. 

Which probably meant he needed to go spend time with his boyfriend who he loved. 

Or that he needed to go apologize to his best friend for having been such an asshole to her when she was trying to help him while Connor was in a coma. 

He got dressed in jeans and his NYU Law shirt and left his mom a note saying he was going to see Sabrina and then visit with Connor in the hospital. 

He stopped at a cafe that he knew Sabrina liked on his way. He picked up lattes for her and for Graham, grabbed a carrying tray and headed to their apartment. 

It was a little apology tradition that Evan and Sabrina had, from back in college. 

Mostly because Evan worked at a cafe and got coffee for free. 

But whenever he needed to apologize, he brought her a coffee to do it. 

So he stopped and bought her a coffee. And Graham too. They had been there for him, and Evan had been a dick about it. So he was apologizing. Getting his life together. 

Coward.

Evan was a fucking coward. 

He buzzed up to Sabrina’s apartment and waited to be let inside. 

When Sabrina opened her door, wearing yoga pants and a hoodie. Her hair was up and she looked… kind of tired. “Oh,” She said. “I thought you’d be at the hospital.”

“I’m going there later,” Evan said. “I wanted to… to come and talk to you. To you and Graham.”

“Come inside,” Sabrina said with a gentle smile. “Is that for me?” She pointed at the coffee cup.

“Yeah,” Evan said. “I brought one for Graham too.”

Sabrina smiled. “Hey, babe!” She shouted. “Come in here?”

Graham appeared in the living room in some kind of aggressively straight attire of basketball shorts and a t-shirt for a sports team. “What’s up?”

“Hi,” Evan said, sort of sheepish. “I came to… apologize. To both of you. I was an asshole these last few weeks and I am so fucking sorry. You two were just looking out for me and I was… ungrateful and awful to you. Both of you.”

Graham looked surprised. “Oh.” 

“Also he brought coffee,” Sabrina said, smiling brightly. 

“Thanks,” Graham said, his voice a bit distant. “And… thanks for apologizing I just. I’m confused?”

Evan didn’t follow. 

“Just… Why aren’t you with Connor?” Graham said, his voice just this side of sharp. 

“I’m going to -”

“You told Sabrina you were going to kill yourself if he died,” Graham said, sounding properly angry now. “You scared the hell out of both of us? And now that Connor is awake and getting better, you’re… Here.”

“To apologize,” Evan said, his brows knitted together. “Look, I’m sorry I scared you.”

Graham shook his head, and yeah, he was definitely pissed. Evan had a sudden fear that he might get punched. “Connor is my friend. And you… I don’t know what your damage is exactly, but I know you definitely should not be here talking to my fiancee when your boyfriend just woke up from a coma.”

“Graham,” Sabrina said, her eyes flashing. “Enough.”

He shook his head. “Whatever,” Graham said, shaking his head. He left the room and Sabrina looked at Evan with a frown. 

“I… Ev, I’m sorry,” Sabrina said. “He’s just upset.”

“Yeah,” Evan said, frowning. 

“But he does have a point,” Sabrina said. “Why aren’t you at the hospital with Connor? I talked to Zoe and she said you’ve barely been there.”

Evan stared at the lid of his coffee, unable to look at her. “I’m sort of… freaked out.” Evan shrugged, taking a sip of his coffee. “I said goodbye to him, you know? He was going to die. He should have died. Nobody knows why he didn’t.”

“You’re worried it could happen again?” Sabrina said, frowning sympathetically. 

Fuck, Evan hadn’t even gotten that far. Fuck. 

“Yeah,” he choked out. “That’s… that’s it. If they can’t explain it… He could still get sick. He could… it could get bad again.”

“He’s going to be fine,” Sabrina said, patting his shoulder. “You just need to relax.”

“Yeah,” Evan said. “You’re right. You’re absolutely right.”


	39. THIRTY-EIGHT

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> “I don’t want to be someone who makes your life harder. Never again.”

“I was promised jello,” says Connor in dismay as he is handed a plate of colorless, disgusting-looking mush. 

“Technically, no one promised you jello,” says his dad mildly from where he’s sitting at Connor’s bedside. “We just assumed there would be jello.”

He’s in a polo shirt and khakis, which is weird as fuck because Connor doesn’t think he’s seen him in anything but a suit in literal years, and instead of working on his laptop, he’s been reading a crime novel. 

“It’s potato, I think,” says the nurse, who looks sympathetic. “Or… something. I don’t know, it’s got… something in it? It’s supposed to be easy to swallow and full of nutrients or something.”

Connor wrinkles his nose, but takes a spoon and, very carefully, moves it to his mouth. His hand is weak and shaky, and the first time he does it, he misses his mouth. 

Fuck. 

His dad looks at him and makes a move like he’s going to offer to help. 

Connor shakes his head. “No way.”

Larry sighs. “Connor-”

“You wouldn’t let anyone help if it were you,” Connor challenges, and Larry looks… conflicted. 

Connor tries again. 

Gets the spoonful of mush in his mouth. 

It’s disgusting, but he swallows it. 

It hurts to swallow, but he does it. 

That’s something. 

His dad looks at him, and there’s something like sympathy in his eyes. 

Connor looks right at his dad, then manages another spoonful of the mush. 

And then another. 

The nurse is watching, clearly making sure that he doesn’t, like, choke to death on tasteless maybe-potato, and she nods approvingly once Connor takes a final spoonful. He hasn’t exactly cleaned the plate, but most of its gone, and even though it was gross, it was kind of warm and that helped, a little. 

He’s still so fucking cold. 

So stupidly fucking cold. 

The nurse takes his tray then offers him a smile. “I’ll get you some jello later,” she says. “Promise.”

With that, she’s gone, and Connor and his dad are alone. 

Which is weird. Really weird. 

They’d woken Connor up to eat, so he’s only really just up, only just now realizing how weird it is that it’s just his dad here. 

“Where’s Mom?” he asks quietly. “Zoe?”

“They’re getting breakfast,” says his dad, matter-of-factly. “There’s a place near Zoe’s apartment that she really likes. After that, they wanted to go pick out some things for you.” He gives Connor this half-smile. “Your mother is worried you don’t have enough warm clothing.”

Connor, who is now wearing a soft woollen sweater over his hospital gown, sweatpants and fuzzy socks, dimly realizes he’s not actually sure when he got changed, and that’s… kind of fucking embarrassing, really. 

“She doesn’t have to do that,” Connor says softly. “But I appreciate it.”

“Let her fuss,” says his dad, his voice gentler than Connor remembers it. “She… it’s been hard for her.”

Connor closes his eyes briefly. Nods. “Yeah,” he manages to say. “I… fuck, I wish it hadn’t, I wish she wasn’t…”

He doesn’t know what he’s trying to say, but when he opens his eyes, he sees his dad is nodding. “You don’t want her to have suffered,” he says, looking serious. “That’s… that makes sense. You never want the people you love to suffer.”

Connor feels something twist inside him. “Yeah.”

His dad puts down his book. Moves his chair closer to Connor’s hospital bed. 

Then puts his hand next to Connor’s on the bed. 

Doesn’t take it, just… puts it there. 

Connor looks at his father’s hand, oddly transfixed. There’s still a visible tan line where his wedding ring used to be. The skin under the ring is pale, much paler than the rest of him, and there are signs of age on the skin on the back of his hand. 

“Connor,” his dad says, his voice quiet and steady. “We haven’t always had the best relationship, you and I.” 

Connor doesn’t say anything. He just nods. 

“When you were younger, I didn’t… I didn’t understand you. I saw how smart you were, how talented, and it frustrated me, because I felt like you didn’t care, like you weren’t trying, and I was… I was too hard on you.” His dad swallows, then continues. “We nearly lost you then. When you were seventeen. And I… I did nothing.”

Connor’s insides twist painfully again. He looks at his dad, willing him to continue. 

“As an adult, you… you didn’t go down the path I had planned for you,” says Larry, his voice still quiet and steady. “And I took that personally. Took that as you rejecting me, rather than realizing that you are an individual, with your own talents.” He looks Connor dead in the eye. “When you were preparing to take over The Little Book Nook, I was cruel to you. Intentionally cruel. And you… you suffered for it, I know you did. That was wrong. I was wrong. I am so incredibly sorry for what I said to you, Connor. What I did.” 

Connor’s eyes fill up with tears. 

So do his dad’s. “It shouldn’t… it shouldn’t take nearly losing you twice to recognize that I’ve been unfair to you. That I haven’t been the parent you deserve.”

“Dad…” Connor begins. 

The word hangs in the air. 

He doesn’t know what to say. 

“You’ve done admirably with the bookstore,” his dad says, blinking a few times and straightening his shoulders, like he’s trying to steady himself. “When… when we were… when we thought that we would have to say goodbye, Zoe asked if I would help her with some paperwork about the bookstore. She wanted to make sure it was looked after, that everything would go smoothly, that it wouldn’t be too hard for your employees when you…”

Larry closes his eyes tightly, like he’s willing the tears back into his eye sockets. 

It doesn’t work. 

“I was impressed,” his dad continues when he opens his eyes again. “With the business. Your business. You made a good choice. You followed your gut, even when I… when I wasn’t supportive.”

“You told me I’d go bankrupt before I turned thirty,” Connor can’t help but say, feeling his eyes sting. “You told me that, to my face.”

“I was wrong,” his dad says immediately. “I was wrong, and…” He takes in a deep breath. “Connor, you nearly died without hearing that from me. You nearly died without knowing how incredibly proud I am of you.”

“Because I didn’t run a business into the ground in the first year?” Connor says, unable to help himself. 

“Because you’re a good person who cares about people,” his dad counters. “Your profit margins for the store are excellent, that’s true, but your employees… they respect you. They care about you. They were… they were devastated at the thought of losing you.” He gives Connor this twisted smile. “I’ve cultivated a reputation as a lawyer as someone to fear. I thought that’s what mattered. I thought that’s what success meant.” He shakes his head. “I’m so sorry. Connor, I am so, so sorry.”

“Dad,” Connor says, unable to take this anymore. “I’m okay. You didn’t… you didn’t lose me, I’m okay. I’m alive.”

Larry nods. Moves his hand closer to Connor’s. 

Connor closes the distance, and his dad grasps his hand tightly. 

“We nearly did,” Larry says, his voice barely above a whisper. “It was so close. So close. And I don’t….” He sniffs, then continues. “I don’t want to be someone who makes your life harder. Never again. Do you understand?”

“Yeah,” Connor replies, blinking heavily, his eyes stinging. “Yeah Dad, I do.”

* * *

After he had coffee with Sabrina and pissed Graham off, Evan knew he needed to go to the hospital. 

He needed to go to the hospital. 

He could see Connor. He should see Connor. He loved Connor. He loved him more than he could put into words… 

So he needed to be an adult and quit fucking avoiding him just because he was scared and insecure. 

He had to go to the hospital. 

No matter how much he wanted to just go home, he had to go to the hospital.

“Stop it,” Evan muttered to himself as he got on the train toward the hospital. “Stop it.”

A woman on the train turned to look at him. Evan didn’t know if it was worse if she thought he was rude or crazy. 

The day was swelteringly hot and humid. July in New York. Evan had spent so much of the last few weeks inside a freezing cold hospital, he’d almost forgotten what it was like in the outside world. 

He wondered if the doctors would let Connor go outside if he asked. The sun and warm weather might help him with the hypothermia. Maybe Evan could ask Alex…

He made his way up the elevator to Connor’s room. Larry was inside. He was smiling. Connor was smiling. 

It was weird, Evan thought, to see them getting along. 

He lingered outside of the door for a moment, listening to them talking about books, naturally. Larry was asking for suggestions for a good mystery. “I always manage to solve them before I’m halfway finished, and then the ending is just disappointing.”

“Hmm… I’ll have to think of one with a lot of twists and turns for you then,” Connor said, nodding. “God, Evan does that too, with movies and TV? We tried to watch the BBC Sherlock Holmes adaptation a few months back and he drove me nuts. We watched three episodes and he solved the case in all of them before the end. He was actually pissed at the end of the pilot when they didn’t reveal which pill was poison.”

Evan smiled slightly. 

He had been pissed about that. 

“He probably could have been a prosecutor if he’d wanted,” Larry said, almost… fondly. 

“Yeah, right?” Connor said. 

It was really weird to see the pair of them talking so freely. It was in such stark contrast to the first time Evan had gone to dinner with Zoe, Connor, and Larry and Larry had basically interrogated both Evan and Connor before the salad course.

It was weird. But nice. Good, probably. 

“Hey,” He said, walking into the room. 

Connor’s face lit up. “Hi!” He said enthusiastically. Evan walked to his bedside, leaned down and kissed his cheek, hating the sharpness of the bones under his lips. Connor turned his head to kiss him properly and Evan might have pulled away normally, because he really hated putting on any kind of public display of affection, especially around parents, but he really needed to kiss Connor. To make sure he was real and still wanted Evan, useless though he was. “I love you,” Connor said when they broke apart. “You taste like coffee.”

“Sorry,” Evan said, wiping his mouth awkwardly. 

“Don’t be. I miss coffee,” Connor said. “But hey! They let me eat something today!”

“Yeah?” Evan said, trying to force his face into a smile. This was good news. Eating was good. 

“Yeah it was some kind of… I dunno. Mush. It was sort of disgusting but I didn’t choke so. Go me.”

Evan tucked a strand of hair behind Connor’s ear. “Nice.”

The conversation lulled. Evan knew he was supposed to say something, supposed to fill the silence, tell Connor how relieved and proud he was that Connor was eating again but… Evan just didn’t have it in him. 

Larry cleared his throat. “Oh! I meant to mention it earlier, but I got a very nice email from Levi Nachman yesterday. He’s glad to hear you’re doing well, Connor. Said his husband offered to come and cheer you up if you needed entertaining.” Larry shook his head, as if he was amused. “Did you know his husband is genuinely a clown?”

Evan and Connor traded a look and burst out laughing. 

He knew they were both thinking about the “pictures of Spider-Man” conversation from the holiday party last year. 

It felt unreal and a bit inappropriate to be laughing in this hospital room. Like their laughs were disrupting the sort of solemn and sacred aura of the space. Like it was especially inappropriate to be thinking about clowns asking their husbands if they wanted their cock. 

“Is he… a good clown?” Larry asked, sounding perplexed. “Is he... funny?”

“His clown name is Porko,” Connor said, this big shit-eating grin on his face. He was clearly far too pleased with himself for being able to add that. 

“Clown name, for God’s sake,” Larry muttered and Connor laughed again. 

Evan wanted to listen to Connor laugh forever. It was the best sound. 

Connor explained that Jonah and Levi had both attended the holiday party at The Little Book Nook last year. “They really liked Evan’s sweater.”

Larry looked confused. 

Evan realized he hadn’t really been contributing at all to this conversation. He realized that Larry was waiting for him to answer. “Oh I… Have some silly Hanukkah sweaters?” Evan said, embarrassed. “I wear them at holiday parties because I don’t… do Christmas?”

Evan had faced off against Larry in court and won. He had handedly beaten this man and enjoyed doing it. He had spent months and months hoping for the chance to maybe do it again because Evan hated him so much for how he had treated Connor. It felt wrong to talk about his taste in stupid Hanukkah sweaters with Larry.

Last year’s sweater featured a dreidel and said, “You spin me right ‘round.” He didn’t explain that to Larry, so Connor jumped in to say it. Then he added, “The year before he had one with a menorah that said ‘let’s get lit.’ It was adorable.”

Larry smiled at both of them. Evan felt a little like he wanted to rip off his skin. 

“How do you know Mr. Nachman?” Evan asked.

“Real estate deal from the early 2000s,” He said. “He spoke very highly of you, Evan.”

Evan found himself strangely surprised to be addressed by name. He honestly wasn’t sure if Larry had ever called him by his first name to his face. “Oh,” He said. “Well, we uh. He’s Gladys and Martha’s lawyer so we… We worked on the contracts together a lot.”

Connor rolled his eyes. “Levi kept saying he felt like it was unfair of him to even be billing Martha and Gladys for those hours because Evan had drawn up such airtight contracts,” He added, smiling at Evan. 

Bragging about Evan. 

Evan squirmed slightly under the shower of affection. “I just like contracts,” He mumbled, embarrassed. 

“Useful thing to like,” Larry said. 

Evan didn’t respond. He picked at his hand a little. 

What the fuck was he doing here? He was phoning this in, he shouldn’t be here, he should just go he was no good like this he couldn’t help Connor like this. 

Connor cleared his throat. “Dad and I were talking about crime novels before you got here?”

“Oh?”

“Yeah, dad tends to solve them before they’re over too,” Connor said. 

“Oh.” Evan tried to smile, but he knew it wasn’t sitting on his face properly. “Yeah. Me- uh. Me too.”

Larry nodded, looking at Evan with his eyebrows knitted together. There was a look on his face that Evan didn’t love. Like he was… Concerned. 

Fuck. 

Fucking hell. He was a fucking adult he needed to just be better than this fucking hell. Evan started babbling about fucking… mysteries because he was at a fucking loss about how to fill this vast silence. He kept picking picking picking at the cuticle on his thumb, picking until Connor’s eyes went wide and he said, “You’re bleeding.”

“Oh,” Evan said, blinking, surprised. “Oh, shit, I’m sorry.” He snatched a tissue off of the stand near Connor’s bed. “Sorry,” Evan said, looking between Connor and his father. “Hangnail,” He said, trying to cover it, act like he was fucking normal. 

“Ah,” Larry said. 

Connor, however, looked stricken. Like he wanted to say something but… not in front of his dad. “Those are terrible,” Connor said. “Almost as bad as having a tube in your dick. I gotta say, I’m not loving that.”

Evan tried to smile because Connor was making a joke. Larry looked uncomfortable and cleared his throat. Connor kept the sort of banter up, complaining a little more performatively about the mush he had eaten today, and Larry and Evan weakly laughed along.

Connor and Larry kept the conversation going, talking pleasantly about things like Edgar Allan Paw. Larry surprised Evan by saying that he thought Edgar was “a very adorable animal.”

His cheeks turned a bit pink when that was met by both Connor and Evan looking at him in surprise. Larry cleared his throat, “I didn’t think I was a pet person but he’s a very nice cat. Very friendly.”

“Evan’s the same way,” Connor said, his voice warm and affectionate. “He doesn’t like to admit that he loves Edgar in public.”

Evan tried to smile, look slight embarrassed, react like a fucking person, but inside he was tallying up all of the ways he was exactly like Larry Murphy who until today, until just now had done very little but hurt Connor. Evan didn’t like to think about how much he apparently shared with Larry, who he and Connor both agreed was an asshole. 

Because Evan was an asshole. 

“...got really drunk right before Christmas and came over to my place and laid on the floor to tell Edgar how much he loved him,” Connor said, smiling really hard. “And what did you call him? It was super cute and weird.”

Evan blinked when he realized Connor was waiting for him to answer. “Oh.” He shook his head. “Sorry. Uh. I called him a house panther?”

Larry cracked a smile at that. 

“Evan doesn’t like to admit that he co-parents a cat with me.”

“I’m just not really an animal person,” He said, shrugging. 

“Me either,” Larry said. “But Edgar is very well behaved.”

“He is,” Connor said, but he wasn’t smiling anymore. He was looking at Evan, this sort of curious look on his face. “You must be pretty tired, huh?”

Evan felt his face heat up. 

Connor knew then. 

That he wasn’t really here. 

“Sorry, yeah,” He said, biting his lip. “Just… A lot going on. I’ve been having a hard time sleeping.”

Connor nodded. Bit his lip. “You don’t have to stay,” He said softly. “If you’re tired you should… You ought to go and rest.”

Evan felt such relief at those words. 

He smiled at Connor. “You sure?”

Connor hesitated for just a moment. “I mean. Yeah. You need to take care of yourself.”

“Okay,” Evan said. He leaned in and kissed Connor’s cheek. “I’ll see you later?”

“Oh. Yeah, okay,” Connor said. 

Evan said goodbye to Larry, then headed out of the room, able to breathe easier the moment he was cut loose. 

Fuck he was such a fucking terrible boyfriend. He should want to be there, at Connor’s bedside. 

Why had it been easier to do when Connor was unconscious? That was so fucked up. Evan was so fucked up. 

He just.

He needed to get some fucking sleep. And he’d pull himself together more tomorrow. He just needed to sleep this off. He was going to be better. He had to be better. He had to be.


	40. THIRTY-NINE

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> “Dude, you… you’re kind of a mess.”

“Okay,” says Alex on Sunday morning as Connor is, once again, trying to force down this disgusting, allegedly nutritious mush they’re shoving at him so he can get used to eating actual food again. She’s got her hair in two braids today, which Connor’s never seen before, and she looks cute. Like she’s actually had some time to get ready, like she’s well-rested. “Here’s the game plan for today. We’re getting you on your feet, at least once.”

Connor finds himself genuinely grinning at the idea. “Shit, really?”

“Yeah,” says Alex, nodding and smiling back. “We want to start getting you ready to go home. That means getting you on your feet so you can get up to pee and we can take out the catheter. We’re still keeping in the IV for nutrients because you’re…” Her face clouds. 

“A skeleton hobo?” Connor suggests. 

Alex blinks, then actually laughs. “Kinda, yeah. Probably won’t take that out for a while, just to give you a bit of a boost, help you gain a bit of weight back. But I’m pretty sure you’d be keen to get out of this bed, right?”

Connor nods. “Fuck yes.”

Alex smiles. “Cool. We’ve got a physical therapist coming in this afternoon. She’s good. She’ll give you some exercises to do, things to help you get some more mobility back, and the aim of the next few days is to get you standing unassisted.”

Connor just looks at Alex, frowning a little. “Just standing?”

Alex looks sympathetic. “Dude, you… you’re kind of a mess,” she says, her voice soft, and Connor looks his body up and down, takes it all in. 

He’s way too thin. Way, way, way too thin. It’s covered in blankets and layers of clothing, but he still knows this body, and it’s far thinner than it should be. 

Far, far thinner. 

“Okay,” says Connor, his voice as firm as he can manage. His voice is still quiet, still shaky, and he knows that it’s because his throat is healing, is getting back to normal after weeks of not being used. 

Any chance of a career as an opera singer or a beatboxer is probably over, he assumes. 

It’s not long before visiting hours start and Connor’s parents arrive. His dad is, once again, in khakis and a polo shirt, and he, like Alex, looks a lot more well-rested than Connor’s seen him since he got back. His mom is in this cute sundress and his dad has his arm around her and she’s smiling, actually smiling, and it’s all kind of weird, but a little bit sweet. 

When they arrive, they sit on either side of Connor’s bed for a little while. Connor’s more alert than he’s been in a while, he’s feeling better having gotten some sleep, and the three of them end up chatting about books, picking up a conversation from the day before about his dad’s love/hate relationship with crime novels. 

It’s so fucking weird, Connor thinks. 

Never once in his life has he talked about books with both of his parents. 

But it’s… nice. It’s normal. It’s a safe topic, it’s a topic he knows, and his parents both defer to his expertise. His dad genuinely writes down a list of recommended authors and his mom mentions books that Connor’s recommended her in the past, books that he’s sent her as part of their book club. 

“You have a book club?” Larry asks, looking surprised. 

“Yeah,” says Connor, equally surprised that his dad’s asking about it. “We just… send each other copies of books that we think the other one might like. Then talk about them. It’s not… formal or anything, it’s more of a… loose thing.”

“Connor’s got much more interesting things to say than anyone at the book club I used to go to,” says his mom, rolling her eyes. “If I have to hear one more analysis from Rebecca Kleinman about how everything is a symbol of the Holocaust, I’m going to lose it.”

“You were in a book club with Mrs. Kleinman?” Connor asks, trying for a neutral tone. 

“I was,” says his mom. “These days I see her a lot at meetings for this town beautification committee we’re both on.” She rolls her eyes again. “She wants to put in those spikes that keep homeless people from sleeping outside buildings. I’ve been fighting her on it for months.”

“Gross,” says Connor, making a face. 

“She has a son your age, doesn’t she?” says his mom, looking like she’s trying to remember. “Jeremy?”

“Jared,” Connor says, making another face. “He’s such an asshole.”

“He lives in her basement,” says his mom, and she looks almost smug now. “She keeps saying that he’s a misunderstood genius. It’s depressing.” 

Connor snorts. “Absolutely.”

“Zoe sends her love,” says Connor’s dad, after a minute. “She’ll be here this afternoon. The other psychologists she shares a space with wanted to take her out for brunch, catch her up on how things are going, help figure out what the game plan is going forward.”

Connor nods. “Okay. Yeah, that makes sense.” He isn’t sure how to ask, so he just does it. “So… you guys? You’ll be going home soon, right?”

His parents exchange a look, then both shake their heads. 

“No,” says Larry. “Not until you’re out of hospital, and we know that you’ll be… properly taken care of.”

“What do you mean by that?” Connor asks, his voice careful. 

His parents exchange another look. It’s his mom who speaks next. 

“Sweetheart, we need to start off by saying that we love Evan. The two of you are so good together. But this has been… so hard on him. I know that he’s saying that he’s working hard now so that he can take time off to look after you when you get out of hospital, and that’s fantastic, but I’ve been talking to Heidi and… she’s concerned about him. About whether he’s in a position to give you the help you need right now.”

“He’s a good man,” Larry says, and Connor’s surprised by the genuine conviction in his dad’s voice at that. “We want to make sure the two of you have the support you need. And if that means that your mother stays with you for a couple of months while you recover, then that’s what we’ll do.”

Connor has to take a moment to just… process that. 

He wants to argue. Wants to argue that he and Evan are two grown men, who love each other, and that once he’s got the all-clear from the hospital, it’s all going to be okay. Connor lives where he works. His transport needs involve getting up and down stairs. If he can get walking and eating and peeing on his own, then it’s all going to be fine, everything else is going to be fine. They don’t need babysitting. 

But he doesn’t say any of that. 

Because Evan’s not here. 

Again. 

He’s not here. 

It’s Sunday, and he’s not here. He was barely here yesterday, and even when he was, he still wasn’t. 

Connor loves him so much. Loves Evan so much, and he knows that Evan loves him, but right now…

It feels like Evan can’t stand to be around him. 

Like it hurts Evan to be around him. 

And that hurts Connor.

It hurts. 

It hurts so fucking much. 

“Right,” says Connor, nodding. “I mean, yeah, that’s… whatever’s best.”

* * *

So sleep wasn’t happening. 

It just wasn’t happening. 

Because when Evan shut his eyes he kept hearing Graham tell him how garbage he was. Kept recalling the stilted conversation with Connor and Larry. 

Connor telling Evan he could go and Evan not being able to get out of there fast enough. 

He couldn’t get out of there fast enough because it felt like every bad thing about him was leaking out all over the place, splashing across the walls and splattering on the floor, dark and sticky and sinister and he feared it might be contagious, he feared it could infect Connor who had been through hell… 

_Coward coward coward coward._

Connor could have died. 

Should have died. 

And the dream Evan had while he was visiting had scared the shit out of him. Genuinely shaken him because…

It was so realistic. 

Well, realistic until the vaguely science-fiction explanation his hallucination had tried to give him for how that Connor had come to see Evan. That was just some handwavey bullshit his subconscious concocted to fill a plothole. 

But the rest of it?

Uncomfortably real. 

Everything about it felt too rooted in fact for Evan’s liking. It was almost as if he had slipped into a what-if, a glimpse at the universe without Connor in it.

And he would completely dismiss that as crazy except…

Two and half years ago, Evan had killed himself and died nineteen more times and for a brief moment existed on in an alternate universe. 

So it wasn’t all that crazy to think he _had_ seen what Connor’s funeral would have been like. It wasn’t all that crazy considering the crazy circumstances of how they became reacquainted. 

It weighed on Evan sometimes. To know they lied to everyone they loved about how they’d met again. 

It weighed on him more now that he’d told his mother and Sabrina both the truth. 

God, he couldn’t seem to properly wake up from that nightmare. He was still there, arguing with a hallucination from across a fresh gave, and honestly, could you hallucinate in a dream? That didn’t make sense none of it made sense what if that was real?

He…

It had felt real. It had felt as real as the last loop had felt, it had seemed so real, so heartbreakingly true… 

Fuck. 

Connor almost fucking died and that wasn’t fair wasn’t fair wasn’t fair he had died enough, suffered enough. 

Fuck the universe, Evan thought bitterly. 

Evan took himself for a walk that night when sleep wouldn’t take him. He’d already spent four hours on the suit Larry was filing against the hospital, contacting a couple of experts for their opinions on Connor’s condition and various diagnoses.

Then he had cleaned out his inbox. 

Put in a load of laundry. 

Emailed a few clients back. Mariah too, because she was following up on something with him. The subject of the email said, “No rush, just a general question about the Truman case.” 

He responded back anyway. 

Then he took himself for a walk. Stopped at a bodega to buy more cigarettes. At the rate was smoking lately, he should start buying them by the carton for the cost savings alone. 

He really wanted a drink but didn’t give into that impulse because lately when he had one drink he had ten and that was bad, bad, very very bad. 

What the fuck was wrong with him? 

How had he let things slide this far? Was distress and grief really that world-leveling or was Evan some special breed of pathetic?

He didn’t fucking know. And he wanted a drink but couldn’t have one so instead he walked. 

He walked and walked and smoked while he walked. 

Until he ended up on the wrong side of the Brooklyn Bridge and realized he’d need to turn around and retrace his steps or take a train home. 

Until he realized the sun was coming up. 

He walked back home because then at least he might be fucking tired. 

When he walked inside, Mattie and Alex were smiling and sitting together on the sofa. The sofa Evan had been hogging by sleeping on it all week. Mattie was braiding Alex’s hair and Alex was drinking from a huge mug of coffee. 

“Where have you been?” Mattie asked, wrapping an elastic band around the bottom of one of Alex’s braids. 

Evan shrugged. “Can’t sleep. Went for a walk.”

“You take anything?” Mattie asked him. 

Evan nodded. “Melatonin night before last. Over the counter sleep aid last night. Nothing.”

Alex frowned a bit. She untangled Mattie’s hands from her hair, got up and went to her bedroom, and returned a moment later with something in her hand. 

She pressed it into Evan’s. 

“What’s this?”

“Sleeping pill,” Alex said. “I wouldn’t suggest mixing it with the other meds you’re on long-term, but you look absolutely dead on your feet and one of those will knock you out.”

He got some water and swallowed it. “Thanks.” He frowned. “Is my mom up yet?”

Mattie shook her head. “I don’t think so.”

Evan frowned. He had nowhere to sleep then. He was twenty-nine years old and was not about to go crawl in bed with his mommy. That was gross on a few levels. 

“Take my room,” Mattie said. “Lord knows I barely use it anyways.”

“You sure?”

“Yeah, man. You need to sleep.”

Evan smiled gratefully. Turned into Mattie’s bedroom, kicked off his shoes and hit the pillows forcefully. 

And slept. 


	41. FORTY

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> "I wreck things, I ruin them. I wear down the people I love until they have no choice but to leave me."

There’s a knock at the door of the room, and Connor looks to see Graham standing there, holding a bag. He looks a little awkward, a little out of place, and from the confused look on Connor’s parents place, Connor can understand why. 

“Hey Graham,” says Connor, before his dad can do something like ask if this guy is sure he’s in the right place. 

“I can come back later if it’s a bad time,” he says immediately. 

“I’m sure it’s nice for Connor to see a new face,” his mom says with a smile, like she’s relieved to have been saved from an awkward conversation. 

“Graham is Sabrina’s fiance,” Connor says to his parents. “Sabrina Patel, from high school? She’s friends with Zoe. And with Evan.”

“I know Sabrina,” says Connor’s mom, smiling. “And Graham, I think we met in passing while Connor was…”

“It was brief,” Graham says when it’s clear Connor’s mom doesn’t want to finish that sentence. He goes to shake her hand. “I don’t know if we were ever properly introduced.”

There’s a round of introductions, then Graham awkwardly holds up the bag he’s holding and pulls out a box of cupcakes. 

“I, uh… I didn’t know if you were still on a feeding tube?” says Graham, his voice a little shaky. “But I figured your family would all be here and people might like cupcakes.”

“From that bakery near your work?” Connor asks, eyeing the box with interest. “Did you get the bacon maple waffle ones?”

“A couple,” says Graham, clearly relaxing a little. “But I got some lemon ones and some chocolate ones… just, like, an assortment? I thought… it’s stupid, I know, but Sabrina always says that something sweet is nice when things are tough.”

“I remember her saying that,” says Connor’s mom, her eyes misting a little. “When Connor was sick in high school.”

Connor looks at his mom, not sure what she’s talking about, but she’s looking at Larry. 

“How about we go grab some coffee and let you two catch up?” says Connor’s dad. “Graham, can we get you anything?”

“I’ve had a coffee this morning, sir, but thank you for the offer,” says Graham politely. He takes a seat next to Connor’s bed as his parents leave the room. 

Connor notices they’re holding hands. 

Interesting. 

Graham looks… nervous, Connor realizes after a moment. Nervous and uncomfortable and jittery. He frowns. 

“Everything okay?” 

Graham stops. Lets out a weak chuckle. 

“I should be asking you that. You just woke up from a coma.”

It hangs in the air for a moment, hovering uncomfortably. 

“I did,” Connor says quietly. “Yeah. I… did you say that you visited? You and Sabrina, when I was out?”

Graham nods. Smiles a little. “Yeah. It’s good to see you awake.”

Connor’s… not sure what to say. He just nods. 

Graham’s shoulders sag. 

He looks at his lap. 

Lets out a shaky breath. 

“Look,” says Graham after a moment, pointedly not looking at Connor, “I know that you only started hanging out with me because you didn’t want it to be super weird that our partners are exes and best friends and all three of you went through school together. I know that we’re not… close like Sabrina and Evan are, that we don’t have years of history and that we’re not, like… we don’t even have a lot in common apart from books? But I just…” Graham looks at Connor properly now, and his face is pale as he continues. “I need you to know that I consider you a friend. A true friend. And that I’m really, really glad you pulled through.”

Connor has this sudden flash of memory, of seeing Graham at his funeral in the dream, trying to hold it together, trying to be strong, looking like he was pissed off that he was feeling something, pissed off that he couldn’t just shove it all down and be strong for his fiancee. 

He remembers thinking it was sad. 

“I know we didn’t get off to the best start,” Connor says after a moment. “I was kind of an asshole.”

Graham blinks. “Dude. I threatened to bodyslam you. Pretty sure I’m the asshole.”

Connor snorts. “Clearly we’re at a stalemate. We’ll have to ask Reddit which one of us is the asshole.”

Graham laughs. Actually laughs, and it kind of dislodges something in the air. 

“I’m just glad you’re here,” says Graham, his voice sincere. 

“For the record,” Connor says, “I consider you a friend, Graham. Not just Sabrina’s fiance. We’re friends.” He offers Graham a smile. “It’s good to see you. I’m totally going to ask the nurse if I can have a go at once of those cupcakes.”

“They’re soft, right?” Graham says with a nod. “I mean, maybe not the bacon ones, because the bacon’s all crunchy, but… the vanilla ones are basically just air and sugar.”

“I’ll try my luck later on,” Connor tells him. “Thank you for bringing them. It’s really nice of you.”

Graham smiles. “Sounds good.”

“What’s Sabrina up to today?” Connor asks, curious. “Guess it must be getting close to the wedding.” He frowns, feeling a little guilty. “I don’t… I can’t remember when it is, sorry.” He tries to joke. “Apparently when you’re in a coma, it gets hard to keep track of things.”

Graham gives this weak smile, like he’s trying to laugh, then just looks horribly sad for a moment. “It was supposed to be my bachelor party last night.”

Connor feels his heart sink. “You invited me to that,” he says. He doesn’t want to ask, but… “What… what happened?”

Graham just looks at him, still looking so sad. “Sabrina and I… we planned the events on the same night. Bachelor and bachelorette parties. We… postponed them when we found out that…”

“That they were turning off my life support,” says Connor, feeling a chill go through him. He shivers involuntarily. “Fuck.”

“Sabrina and I…” Graham swallows. Hard. “We didn’t want to be partying a few days after someone important to us died. So we rescheduled.” He offers Connor a weak smile. “You’re welcome to come along next Saturday if you want.”

“Believe me, I’d love to,” Connor says. “Don’t know if I’ll be up to it, though.” He blinks a few times, feeling the emotion of it all hit him. “I’m, uh… they’re going to try to get me standing up this afternoon? We’ll work towards walking, but they say it’s going to take a while. I lost a lot of weight and muscle tone and I’m… kind of… a head attached to a bunch of wet noodles right now.” 

“Yeah,” says Graham. He looks… conflicted. Like he’s going to say something but doesn’t know if he should. 

There’s been a lot of that lately, Connor thinks. 

He sighs. 

“Okay, dude, I’m pretty sure you want to say something. Go ahead.”

Graham bites his lip. Looks at Connor. Sighs. 

“Evan told Sabrina he’d kill himself if you didn’t wake up.”

Connor feels like he’s been punched in the face by a homeless guitarist. Like he’s been hit by a bus with Alana Beck’s face on it. 

As the blow settles, he’s horrified to realize that this isn’t a surprise. 

It’s a confirmation of what he already knows. 

“He did?” Connor asks, his voice wavering, even though he knows. 

He knows. 

Graham nods. Looks almost sick. “He… he was a mess, Connor, he was just a fucking mess. He… I get that he was suffering, I really do, but the things he said to Sabrina, the way he treated her, it wasn’t okay. And then he comes by yesterday morning with coffee to apologize to us instead of visiting you? It’s not… he’s not in a good space, he’s not, and I can only imagine how horrifying this must have been, how scary it must have been to come so close to losing you, but I don’t… I don’t understand why he’d tell my fiancee, his best friend that he was going to kill himself without you, then not want to visit once you were awake?”

Connor is starting to feel genuinely ill, like he might throw up. Graham looks… angry, actually angry, and it’s at Evan, he’s angry at Evan, and Connor’s…

Fuck. 

Connor doesn’t blame him. 

He feels himself start to shake. He’s so fucking cold. 

He got into a bathtub full of ice to get back to Evan. Back to the man he loves. 

And Evan doesn’t want to see him. 

He isn’t here. 

He’s having coffee with Sabrina and Graham instead of visiting Connor. 

He…

“Shit, you’re shaking,” says Graham, looking alarmed. He grabs one of the nearby blankets and wraps it around Connor’s shoulders. “Fuck, dude, I’m sorry, I didn’t-”

“Not your fault,” Connor manages to say, feeling his teeth start to chatter. “I’m always cold, I…”

To his horror, he finds his eyes starting to burn with tears. 

Graham looks absolutely stricken. “Connor, I’m so sorry, I shouldn’t have-”

“You didn’t do anything wrong,” Connor interrupts as firmly as he can. “You… fuck, at least you’re being fucking honest with me, Jesus.” 

Graham’s eyes are big and concerned. “I’m not trying to… I don’t… I’m just worried. I don’t know what the fuck’s going on and it’s… it’s hurting people I care about.” 

Connor nods. “Yeah. Yeah, I get it.” He closes his eyes. “Fuck. I’m so sorry, Graham.”

“You…” Graham clears his throat. 

Connor looks at his friend. 

He looks so lost. 

“You have nothing to be sorry for.”

* * *

Evan opened his eyes to discover his mother roughly shaking his shoulder. He blinked blearily, disoriented and unsure for the first few seconds of where the hell he even was. 

Mattie’s room. Right. 

“We need to talk,” His mom said, her voice hard, unwavering. 

Evan was still pretty out of it because his first thought was  _ Oh no is mom gonna break up with me? _

“What’s wrong?” He asked, fearing the worst when the words finally sunk in. 

“Why did I get an email confirming my flight back home for tomorrow night?”

Shit. 

He hadn’t actually talked to her about that. Shit. 

“I… I thought you’d need to get back,” He said cautiously. “That you’ve probably missed a lot of work and…” His voice died under the intensity of his mother’s furious face. 

“You honestly think I’m leaving now?” She said. “I can’t leave right now, Evan.”

“Connor’s out of the woods and I’m fine -”

“You are not fine,” She snapped. “I don’t know what it’s going to take to get through to you that you’re not fine, but this… You are not okay yet sweetheart. Throwing yourself back into work after everything that happened is not okay. You, talking about killing yourself when Connor was sick? That’s not okay.”

“I’m sorry,” Evan said, a little desperate. “I’m trying. I went to therapy, I haven’t skipped any meds…”

“You’re avoiding me,” His mom said shortly. “And what’s worse is that you’re avoiding Connor.”

Evan lost his breath for a moment. “I’m not.”

“You are,’ She said. “You’re trying to force me to leave and you’ve barely spent any time with Connor in the hospital since he woke up. You were there more often when he was in a coma.”

“I -” Evan started, but he cut himself off short.

“Alex texted me. Connor’s pretty upset and he’s refusing to sleep until you come and talk to him.”

“What?”

“He’s hurt that you’re not coming to see him and… He’s sick and he needs rest. And frankly, I don’t understand why you don’t want to see him.”

He could not explain this to her. How it was clearly… 

This was Evan’s fault. 

Evan was toxic. Toxic and awful and ruining things for everyone because this was what he did. 

“Baby I want to help but I can’t help if you don’t tell me what’s wrong.”

“Stop calling me baby,” Evan snapped. 

His mother recoiled. 

He ruined things. 

He wore people who loved him down. He took and took and took until he wore them down to nothing, until they were a shell or…

Or until they fell into a coma. 

“Evan, I don’t know what has gotten into you,” His mom said, her tone of pleading and understanding gone and replaced by frustration. Anger. 

“What’s gotten into me is that I’m twenty-nine years old and my fucking mother has moved into my apartment and taken on a full-time job of hovering and pestering me!”

“Do you genuinely think that’s going to work on me, Evan?” She sounded tired. “I’m your mother. You can try to hurt me as much as you want, you can try to push me away, but I am still your mother. And I know something isn’t right with you. I know you’re in pain. So I’m not going anywhere. Not until you tell me what is going on.”

He felt his resolve starting to crack a little because she was his mom, and he was hurting her, and it might be easier just to let go. Let her take care of it, take care of him. 

But he couldn’t. 

“Fuck you,” He said instead. 

“Fuck you,” She returned. “You are being really ungrateful, you know? You boyfriend is alive and getting better. Your friends are coming out of the woodwork to check in to make sure you’re okay. Do you have any idea how many hours Alex worked last week, watching over Connor and checking on him? For your sake? People are trying to help you and you are pushing everyone away and I want to know why.”

Evan shifted his jaw stubbornly. “I never asked for any of that.”

“Because you don’t have to! People want to help you because they love you and you’re either too stubborn or too stupid to accept it.”

Evan actually laughed. 

He laughed, like a deranged lunatic, because that was mean. His mom was being deliberately mean. Huh. 

That was… different.

“And on that topic, seriously, why the hell haven’t you been to see Connor?”

“I have been, I-I just have to work -”

“Bullshit Evan. Bullshit. You and I both know precisely what that law firm pays you, and we both know that it’s more than enough for you to take a few weeks off to look after him. And if your job was at risk, we both know that you have offers coming out your ears. You’re choosing work over Connor because it’s easier. And I did not raise you to be like that.”

“Didn’t you though?” Evan said, fury burning inside of him. “Isn’t that exactly what you did? When you just  _ had  _ to go back to school when I was in high school, when I woke up every single day thinking it would be the one where I managed to kill myself? You had to go back right then, leave me all alone right then, all to be a fucking paralegal! You jeopardized my health, my life, to be essentially a glorified fucking secretary. Because success is important to you. More important than I ever was.”

“How dare you -”

“So don’t talk to me about fucked up priorities. I learned from the best.” He started to leave. 

His mother was in tears. 

Some sick part of him counted that as a victory. 

Until she followed him out of the room, tears still sticking her eyelashes together and said, “I won’t let you do this.”

“Do what?” He said, caustically. 

“Throw yourself away so easily. You fought hard to make it this far.”

“Exactly,” He said, his shoulders sagging. “I had to fight hard to get here, and look where I’ve ended up. I’m… Mom I’m no good. For anyone. I just… I wreck things, I ruin them. I wear down the people I love until they have no choice but to leave me. It’s gonna happen with you eventually, and it’s gonna happen to Connor soon enough.”

“Baby -”

“Do  _ not _ call me baby,” He shouted at her. 

Then he stormed out of the apartment. He couldn’t look at her, couldn’t look at her or talk to her anymore. She shouted after him, truly going for the mother stereotype, shouting his full name after him down the stairs, “Evan Harold Hansen,” like he was a teenager, a child, but Evan left without even glancing back. 


	42. FORTY-ONE

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> “It feels like you’re apologizing for not dying.”

Connor’s tired. He’s so fucking tired. 

But he’s not going to sleep until he’s seen Evan. 

That’s just…

It’s just how it is. 

He tells this to Alex when she shows up just after midday with the physical therapist. Graham’s headed off to get some lunch but has said he’d be back in an hour or so and his parents are discussing something quietly in the corner of the room, sitting suspiciously close together. 

Alex… isn’t exactly thrilled at Connor’s statement, but she looks sympathetic. 

“Look, I know he hasn’t been sleeping well either, he’s probably-”

“If he can have coffee dates with his ex-girlfriend, he can visit me in the hospital,” Connor says firmly. 

Alex’s eyes widen. She looks like she’s about to say something, but thinks better of it, then nods. “I’ll talk to Heidi.”

Normally Connor would be embarrassed at the idea of Heidi hearing him saying something so fucking childish, but right now he couldn’t give a fuck. A single, solitary fuck. 

His boyfriend is avoiding him. 

His boyfriend, who threatened to kill himself if Connor died, won’t visit him in the hospital, after waking up from a fucking coma. 

Connor wants to be understanding. Part of him wants to be sympathetic, wants to understand that Evan’s probably freaked out, that maybe he’s worried that this isn’t real, that maybe he’s afraid something will happen to Connor. 

He knows that Evan avoids things. That he runs away from things. 

He knows that about Evan. He knows so many things about Evan that Evan would probably rather he didn’t. 

But Evan knows Connor, too. And he should know him well enough to know that this, right here, is bullshit. 

It’s bullshit. 

That anger carries Connor through his physical therapy session. He’s exhausted and he’s in pain, his body aching, but he does his best to channel that anger at Evan into some kind of energy. The whole process just makes him even angrier, because his body is useless and weak and let him down, keeps fucking letting him down, because all he wants to do is get out of this hospital, get in a cab, go to Evan’s apartment and knock on his door until he fucking talks to him. 

He gets on his feet in the end, his anger carrying him through, but he’s exhausted and it hurts, it really fucking hurts, and the physical therapist looks at him with concern as he starts to shake again, shake hard, and they get more warming blankets and get him back in bed and he’s so tired he finds himself nodding off. 

When he wakes up, Graham’s there, reading a book. 

Connor looks at him, a little puzzled. “You’re still here?”

Graham shrugs. Looks almost embarrassed. “Yeah, I… Sabrina’s sister Tabby is in town? She couldn’t afford to change the flights for the bachelorette party and she didn’t manage to sell them, so when Sabrina told her what happened she decided to come out for the weekend anyway. I thought they should have some time together, since Tabby won’t be able to fly out again for the actual party next weekend.”

“Shit,” says Connor, feeling absolutely awful. “Fuck, that’s… that’s not fair, does… fuck, I can pay? If she wants to come back to the city for the real party next weekend, I can pay, it’s my fault it was-”

“Connor,” says Graham, with this sad smile. “It’s not your fault.” He rolls his eyes. “Besides, I offered, but she and Lydia have tickets to go see this singer they like next weekend.” 

“I’m so fucking sorry.”

Graham’s face twists uncomfortably. “It feels like you’re apologizing for not dying,” he says, his voice thin.

“That’s not what I-”

“I know.” Graham tries to smile. “It’s fine. Honestly, it’s probably good that Tabby gets some one on one time with Sabrina. Besides, Tabby and Sam have been arguing about the party for weeks. Months, even.”

Connor laughs a little. “What’s there to argue about for a bachelorette party? The size of the stripper’s dick?”

Graham looks a little uncomfortable, and Connor kicks himself mentally for talking about dicks with his one straight friend. He’s about to change the subject when Graham speaks up. 

“Actually, the biggest argument has been about the guest list. Tabby’s been trying to convince Sam that Evan should be allowed to come but she insists it’s inappropriate.”

Connor flinches. “What do you think?” he can’t help but ask. 

Graham shrugs. “Honestly, it’s Sabrina’s party,” he says. He looks… embarrassed. “Please don’t think… it’s not that I dislike Evan. At all. I think he’s a good guy, I really do. It’s just…” He sighs. “Sabrina’s my first serious girlfriend. So I have no real frame of reference when it comes to being friends with your ex.”

Connor gets it. “Evan’s my first serious boyfriend. I don’t have a frame of reference either.”

“And it’s… not exactly something I’ve seen before,” says Graham, his tone diplomatic. “Being that close with your ex.” He lets out this sad sigh, and looks really tired, all of a sudden. 

Connor’s tired, too. 

And he’s so fucking cold. 

Soon, his parents are back. They ask him about physical therapy and his dad looks him up and down, frowning, and asks if he’s still cold. His mom helps him put on another layer of clothing when it becomes clear he can’t stop shaking, puts another blanket around him, pulls up the hood of his hoodie and gets him all snuggled up, and it’s the middle of summer and Graham’s sitting there in shorts and his mom is in a sundress and his dad’s in a polo and Connor’s in three layers of clothing and blankets and he’s cold. 

Zoe shows up, and announces that the brunch meeting with her fellow psychologists had mostly been an excuse for them to celebrate and let off some steam with the whole ‘Connor not being dead’ surprise and there had been a large number of mimosas. 

She’s hilariously, adorably tipsy, and she snuggles up next to him on the hospital bed, kissing his cheek and telling him how much she loves him. 

“Thank you for doing us all a solid and not dying,” she says, leaning her head against his shoulder. 

“You’re welcome,” says Connor, for lack of anything better to say, and Zoe kisses his cheek again. 

“So here’s the deal,” says Zoe, and she’s clearly drunk, but she gestures to Connor and their parents dramatically. “This is what’s going to happen. Connor, it has been decided that you are going to outlive me, so I never have to do this again. Okay? That’s just how it’s going to be. I will accept no further arguments, the case is closed. Motion passed. All in favor, the jury says ‘fuck yes, excellent idea, Zoe!’ Court dismissed.”

“I’m pretty sure that’s not how courtrooms work,” says Connor, trying for a joke, and he looks at his dad in the hopes he’ll jump in with some law-related comment. 

But he doesn’t. 

He just looks… devastated. 

Completely fucking devastated.

Zoe’s eyes fill with tears. “I’m serious, okay? I can’t… Connor, please don’t make me do this again. Please. I can’t… my heart won’t take it, okay? It won’t. It just won’t. Okay? So when we’re both really, really old, when we’re in our hundreds, and I’ve got… fuck, I don’t know, great-grand-kids and you and Evan have adopted every cat and every book in New York City... when we’re both really really  _ really _ old, I get to die first.”

Connor’s so fucking cold. So fucking cold. 

He gathers Zoe up into the blankets and holds her close to him, as tightly as his limp, useless body can manage. 

“Okay, Zo,” he says softly. “Okay.”

After a while, their mom decides she should get Zoe home, or at least some kind of food to sober her up a little, and their dad offers to go with them when it becomes obvious that getting Zoe safely to her destination is going to be a little bit like putting an octopus inside a sleeping bag. 

He and Graham chat for a while, until Graham’s phone beeps. 

“That’s Sabrina,” he says apologetically. “She wants to know if I’ll come with her to take Tabby to the airport. Is it okay if I head off?”

“Of course,” says Connor, not sure why he’s asking. 

Graham hesitates for a moment. “I just… don’t want you to be alone.”

Connor feels this burst of annoyance inside him. 

Not at Graham, who’s spent most of the day just hanging out with him. 

At Evan. 

At Evan, who’s not fucking here. 

At Evan, who’s left him alone. 

“I’m fine,” Connor assures him. “You’re never alone in a hospital. Say hi to Sabrina and Tabby from me.”

Graham smiles, then leans in and claps Connor on the shoulder in his weird bro hug. 

“It really is so damn good to see you.”

With that, Graham’s out the door. 

* * *

Evan went straight to the hospital after he argued with his mother. 

And then he realized he absolutely one hundred percent could not go to Connor’s room like this. A mess like this. 

Fuck he was in yesterday’s clothes. 

Fuck. 

Fuck. 

Evan tried to take a steadying breath. 

Went to check his phone and realized he didn’t have it. 

Shit. 

Fuck. 

Shit. 

Evan paced the perimeter of the building. 

Sunk down on a park bench across the street and sat there with his head in his hands, his eyes stinging, his throat hurting, the world crashing down around him because it was like Evan was trying to ruin everything. 

Like he was trying to wreck it all. 

Why was he trying to wreck this?

What the hell was the matter with him? Was he this scared because of… a dream? Because something bad had happened? Seriously?

Bad things happening was basically the entire basis of Connor and Evan’s relationship. He had no right to be falling apart like this when Connor needed him. 

Connor was refusing to sleep because Evan was being a shitty boyfriend. He was refusing to sleep even though he needed it, even though he had to…

Fuck fuck fuck fuck fuck. 

Evan wiped his eyes. Walked around the block a few more times, smoking anxiously and thinking ruefully to himself how before all of this had happened he had been trying so hard to quit, to properly quit. 

Evan had backslid so far. 

Fuck. 

He had a choice to make. 

Go inside and show Connor how wrecked he was, how much of a disaster he’d become, or go home and face his mother. 

Or, plan c, he could try to flee the country and change his name.

Coward coward coward. 

Evan pulled his shoulders back. Wiped his face. And walked into the hospital. 

He could do this. He could do this.

He had passed the bar after fucking dying. He had tried to kill himself several times and lived. He could do this. This was nothing. 

Evan crossed the lobby, heading toward the east wing and the elevators. He pressed the up button and waited. When the doors slid open, Graham Smith stepped out. 

Fuck. 

“Hey,” Graham said cooly. “Nice of you to drop by.”

Evan opened his mouth to retort, to retaliate, to pounce but found he didn’t have the words. He had nothing to say back to Graham. 

Graham shook his head, smiling this awful, rueful smile. “I seriously do not understand you.”

“I’m sorry?” Evan said, Graham’s meaning lost on him. 

“Sabrina is… She’s the most wonderful, loving, amazing person, right? She’s phenomenal. Damn near perfect. And you… threw her away. You just. Disappeared on her. Left, gone, no contact or anything. She was… When we met, she was still hung up on you? For a while, in fact. And I liked her but I’m not an asshole, so I was her friend. And I just kept thinking, wow, this guy… Must have been something for her to be so cut up about him. And I also thought… that you must have been an idiot to throw her away.”

Evan felt his face growing hot, embarrassed, and he dropped his gaze. He’d fucked up. Graham got to be pissed at him. 

“And now? Now… I don’t get you. I don’t the appeal honestly? Like, no offense, but you’re a workaholic and you’re sort of intense about the most random shit and I genuinely do not get how you do it. You manage to attract these-these amazing, thoughtful, caring people and then you… Shrug. Flinch away.” He shook his head, shoving his hands into his pockets. “You really hurt Sabrina, and I know… I know I’m supposed to be cool with it because she’s forgiven you and whatever and I will be. But. Don’t pull that same shit on Connor, man. Don’t disappear on him, especially not right now. Nobody fucking deserves that.”

“I…” Evan started, and he was preparing for a fight, to defend himself, but Graham just shook his head and walked away. 

And Evan let him. 

Because he… 

He wasn’t going to disappear on Connor. He’d fucked up, he knew, but he wasn’t going to do that. 

He… Evan couldn’t do that. 


	43. FORTY-TWO

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> “Friends come and visit you in the hospital when you wake up from a coma.”

Maybe ten minutes after Graham leaves, there’s a tentative knock at the door. It opens gently. 

And there’s Evan. 

It’s Evan. 

He’s here. 

He’s actually here. 

He looks at Connor and offers a weak smile. Goes to sit in the seat next to Connor’s bed. Reaches out and takes his hand. Kisses his knuckles. 

Like it’s some kind of routine. Like it’s something he just… does. 

Connor’s shaking, and he can’t tell if it’s because he’s cold or because he’s angry. 

“I saw Graham on the way in,” says Evan, his tone cautious. “What was he doing here?”

“He came to visit me,” says Connor, trying to keep his tone even. “Because he’s my friend.”

“Right,” says Evan, sounding… unsure. 

Fuck this. 

Fuck this, fuck it all. 

“Because that’s what friends do,” Connor continues, feeling his anger building. “Friends come and visit you in the hospital when you wake up from a coma.” He glares at Evan, whose eyes are wide. “How come it doesn’t work the same for boyfriends, huh? How come you’d go visit your ex-girlfriend and her fiance before coming to see me in the hospital? What the fuck, Evan?”

Evan looks… pissed. “Graham came to visit, to, what, tell on me?”

“He came to visit because he is my friend,” Connor spits out, and he’s aware that his heart monitor is beeping warningly but he doesn’t fucking care. “Because he gives a shit. I know that you don’t like him, that you think he’s boring and bland and, fuck, I don’t know, not good enough for your precious Sabrina, but he is a _good_ fucking person and came to visit me, which is more than you can be bothered to do!”

Evan just stares at him for a moment, like he can’t quite believe what Connor’s saying. 

Honestly, Connor’s not sure he believes it either. 

His blood is rushing too fast in his veins and he’s angry, he’s so fucking angry, but it’s not making him warm, he’s still just freezing. Damn freezing. 

Evan’s staring at him, not saying anything, and Connor’s freezing because he climbed into a bathtub full of ice to get back to him. 

“Connor, I have to work,” Evan says, and he’s looking at him like he’s stupid, like he’s a child, and Connor hates it, he hates it so much. 

“It’s Sunday,” Connor says flatly. “So don’t give me that shit. And my dad, who’s the biggest fucking workaholic I know, has been here and you haven’t.”

“If I’m going to take time off when you go home so I can take care of you, I need to-”

“You can’t take care of me if you can’t take care of yourself!” Connor blurts out, and his anger is still there, burning without heat in his chest because the ice lives in his veins now, but he’s scared. He’s so fucking scared. “You told Sabrina you were going to _kill_ yourself, Evan! Is that why you haven’t been here? Because you… because you’re not going to stay with me?”

“No!” Evan says, his eyes wide and horrified. “No, Connor, I’m not leaving you, I wouldn’t do that to you, I would never do that to you-”

“You told Sabrina that if I died, you’d kill yourself,” Connor says again, and he can feel his eyes starting to sting with tears. “You… I almost died, Evan, I almost… does that mean that you… you can’t, okay, you fucking can’t, not after everything, not after everything I-”

He cuts himself off. 

He can’t tell Evan about the other reality. 

He can’t. 

He just can’t. 

If things are as bad as Connor thinks they are, then Evan can’t handle this right now. 

It would destroy him. 

He can’t do that. 

He can’t. 

He can’t. 

“Everything you what?” 

Connor closes his eyes.

“Connor. Everything you what?” Evan repeats, his voice urgent. “What happened?”

Connor shakes his head. “I’m scared for you, Evan, what you… what you said you’d do if I… I can’t lose you. I can’t.”

“I’m not going anywhere,” says Evan, that urgent tone not leaving his voice. 

“Bullshit,” Connor snaps. “You can’t stand to be around me, you… it’s been days, and I’ve barely seen you, and I… I needed you and you weren’t here. You weren’t.”

“I’ve been working so I can be there when you go home-”

“My parents won’t let you look after me,” Connor says without meaning to. “Not if you’re… not when you’re like this.”

Evan recoils, like Connor’s slapped him. 

Connor looks at him. Really looks at him.

Evan’s in the same clothes he was wearing yesterday.

Evan looks like he hasn’t slept in weeks. 

He’s thinner than he should be - not as thin as Connor, but he’s definitely sharper around the edges than he is usually, and it breaks Connor’s heart. 

“You… I can’t fucking imagine what it was like to go through this,” Connor says, as gently as he can. “If it had been you in a coma, I-”

“You’d have managed,” Evan interrupts, his voice flat. “You wouldn’t have… you wouldn’t be as fucked up as I am, because you’re… you’re better.”

Connor thinks about everything he did in the other universe. 

About punching Jenny, sleeping with Parker, being cruel to Andi…

“No,” Connor says, shaking his head. “Evan, I’m not, I swear I’m not.”

* * *

“You don’t need to lie to make me feel better,” Evan said, trying to keep his voice steady. 

“I wouldn’t lie to you.”

It hung in the air for a long moment.

Because they both knew Evan would lie to Connor. Had lied to Connor. A lot, actually. From hiding his feelings for almost a year to constantly swearing he was fine when he wasn’t, Evan was a liar and they both knew it. 

Evan sort of wanted to push back against Connor’s promise to be truthful though because he… He knew there was something Connor wasn’t saying. Something happened when he was in that coma that he was not sharing and Evan needed to know because the not knowing was killing him. 

But he. 

Fuck. 

Connor’s parents didn’t trust him to take care of Connor they didn’t trust him… 

And neither did Connor. Connor didn’t trust him either. 

He’d really fucked this up. 

He’d really, really, potentially irreparably fucked this up. 

And he really just wanted to fight about it. Yell at Connor for scaring him so badly, yell at him for expecting Evan to just be okay, for trying to die on Evan and expecting him not to want to follow. Evan wanted to get pissed about the barbs about Sabrina because, fuck, Connor just needed to get over his jealousy of her already. He wanted to tell Connor that he should be angry at Zoe because Zoe was going to take him off of life support, that Zoe had made the decision without consulting Evan, without even talking to him, she just decided Connor was going to die even though there was room for interpretation of his will and Evan hated her, just hated her for that. 

He wanted to tell Connor that Graham was boring and straight and worked in fucking finance and that it was fucking stupid to be friends with someone like that because Evan hated that there were things Connor could get from people other than him, because Evan was the jealous one, Evan was the possessive one, and he knew that made him a shitty person, a garbage person, a crappy hypocritical boyfriend. 

He wanted to yell and shout because he knew something had happened, something weird like two years ago, something impossible but Connor wasn’t telling him so all Evan knew about it was that it was his fault and couldn’t Connor just accept that it was all Evan’s fault that they were in this mess? Couldn’t he just admit, for once, that if Evan had kept his shit together during the bar exam they wouldn’t have died twenty times, they wouldn’t be in this bullshit situation now. 

He wanted to scream at Connor for making Evan love him because it would have been so much easier if he didn’t.

But Evan couldn’t bring himself to fight him. 

Connor was frail and weak and he was in the hospital, he had been unconscious for weeks, he… Evan couldn’t fight with him. He couldn’t fight with him now. 

“I’m so sorry,” He said, his voice small and weak. Evan’s legs weren’t going to hold him much longer, so he unsteadily lowered himself into a chair. “I’m so fucking sorry.”

Connor looked surprised. 

Fuck, that was heartbreaking. 

Because he wasn’t expecting Evan to apologize. 

Because he thought Evan might _leave_. 

He was such an asshole. Fuck. 

“You’re right,” Evan went on, still quiet. “I haven’t been here and there’s… There’s no excuse for it. I’m sorry.” He sucked in a deep breath. Let it out. “I’m just really fucking sorry.”

Connor nodded mutely. 

He was waiting for an explanation that Evan didn’t have. He just had nothing. The reasons were always his reasons because he was immovable, static, stuck. 

“Did you mean it?” Connor asked then, his voice still trembly and different and Evan hated that. “What you said to Sabrina?”

Evan couldn’t look at him. “I was drunk.”

Connor breathed out through his nose, irritated. “That’s not an answer.”

Evan bit his lip hard. Until it hurt. Until his teeth caught on a rough patch of skin, chapped and dry, and his lip bled. 

He should lie. 

It would be kinder to lie. 

Evan knew it would be a lot better if he lied. 

But he was tired. 

“I don’t know,” He said finally. It was as close to the truth as he could get without it becoming overwhelming, unbearable. 

Connor let out a noise of frustration and Evan looked up at him sharply. Connor looked a bit sheepish. “My fucking body is… not being super cooperative.”

“Oh.”

“Will you just… Just please come here?” Connor asked, and he still sounded irritated and hurt and frustrated and angry but he asked Evan to come closer so Evan did. He picked himself up and perched precariously on the edge of Connor’s bed. 

Connor frowned. “Look I get that I’m sort of gross looking right now, but you could at least act like you’re not disgusted by me.”

Evan felt all of the air rush out of him. “I’m not,” He said, his voice quiet. “Of course I’m not.”

“You… you won’t even look at me. You won’t touch me. You’ve barely even held my hand…”

“I didn’t want to hurt you,” Evan whispered. “I was scared if I… I was scared I could hurt you.” He thought of all of the ways he’d been careless with Connor’s body before. Too rough. How he had left Connor with bruises and hickeys, left him sore and exhausted… He was terrified, he was a bull in a china shop, he was going to hurt him, break him if he got too close.

“I don’t have brittle bones or anything,” Connor said, rolling his eyes. “At least. I don’t think.”

Evan almost smiled. A joke. 

“Please just come here,” Connor said, his eyes soft, pleading. “Please.”

Evan nodded. Adjusted himself on the bed until he was able to gently wrap his arms around Connor, hold him close. He held Connor like he was breakable, made of glass, and Connor rested his head against Evan’s chest. He was shivering, even though the blankets he was piled under were all almost hot to the touch, even though he was wearing several layers of clothes, and Evan hated it. He hated feeling so fucking helpless. Useless. 

He pressed a kiss to the top of Connor’s head. His hair wasn’t terribly clean, but Evan didn’t really care. He kept his arms wrapped around Connor and didn’t let go. 

And it was quiet. 

So quiet, just the beep of Connor’s heart monitor, the soft woosh of his breath against Evan’s collarbone. When he listened closely he could hear the squeak of distant sneakers in the hall, the trill of a far-away phone ringing, hushed conversations and doors opening and closing. 

“You should sleep,” Evan said after a while. “Alex said you were refusing to sleep.” Until he came to see Connor. Because he was angry. Because he _should_ be angry. 

“Yeah couldn’t quite keep my promise on that one,” Connor murmured. “I’m so damn tired.”

Evan nodded. 

Him too. 

He was so damn tired. 

“You should sleep,” Evan said. Whispered. “I won’t go anywhere, I swear. Just sleep.”

Connor gave him a hard look. 

And Evan kissed him. 

Because he had to do _something_. 

Connor relaxed into the kiss, his hand weakly grasping at the material of Evan’s t-shirt. Evan held Connor’s face gently, like if he pressed too hard the bones might shatter, like if he held on too tightly Connor would slip away. 

Connor pulled away and he was smiling. Actually smiling. He snuggled up against Evan, and murmured, “You’re warm.”

“Yeah,” Evan said. He was always warm. 

Connor closed his eyes. 

And Evan stayed. 


	44. FORTY-THREE

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> "He’s the only person I have ever loved like this. The only one.”

When Connor wakes up, Evan’s still there, holding onto Connor tightly. He’s gently snoring, right by Connor’s ear, and it’s the most wonderful sound in the world. 

Connor’s almost warm.

Almost. 

It’s the warmest he’s been since he came back, here in Evan’s arms, because Evan is always warm. 

He closes his eyes and falls back asleep. 

The next time he wakes up, Alex is taking his vitals. She smiles at him when she sees him, a little sympathetically. 

“What time is it?” Connor croaks, hating how his voice is still weak but not wanting to wake Evan, who’s still holding him.

“Just past two am,” says Alex quietly. She smiles again. “I kind of bullied the nurses into not sending Evan home, even though visiting hours are definitely over, because I knew you needed the sleep. And Evan’s keeping your temperature up.”

Connor smiles. “He’s always warm.”

Alex just looks at him for a moment. “He loves you so much, Connor. So damn much.”

Evan sighs in his sleep and pulls Connor closer and Connor just lets himself enjoy it. 

Lets himself enjoy being here, alive, warm in Evan’s arms. 

“I love him,” Connor says simply. “I love him more than anything, Alex, I… he’s the only person I have ever loved like this. The only one.” 

Alex looks like she could cry. She offers a watery smile, then pats Connor’s arm gently. “Go back to sleep,” she says softly. “I’ll make sure no one disturbs you. Heidi knows Evan’s here, everything’s okay. Just rest.”

Connor closes his eyes and he’s out almost immediately. 

* * *

Evan woke up to the sound of steady beeping. A heart monitor. He blinked a few times, his eyes gritty and back sore, and realized he’d slept in Connor’s hospital room. In Connor’s hospital bed, with Connor wrapped around him like a vine. 

It had been so long since Evan had woken up beside Connor that he teared up. 

Fuck, he couldn’t even remember the last time they’d kissed before all of this happened… He just. Didn’t remember. 

What if Connor had died and Evan hadn’t remembered their last kiss…?

He blinked a few times, trying to will the tears back into his eyes, trying not to be the guy who was weeping at Connor’s bedside, and Connor shifted and sighed and mumbled something totally incoherent that might have been “cat AirBNB” and Evan half wanted to just close his eyes and go back to sleep because he wanted to stay here, in this bubble of safety where Connor was alive and Evan didn’t have a very deep self-destructive streak. 

But then he remembered he’d run off after arguing with his mother without his phone yesterday and, apparently, spent the night in the hospital so… 

He should probably go deal with that. 

Evan very gingerly untangled himself from Connor’s grasping limbs and climbed out of the bed. 

He’d slept with his sneakers on. 

That was pretty fucking weird. 

Before he left, Evan found a spare scrap of paper and scribbled a note on it.  _ “Went home to change. Be back soon. I love you.”  _ He stuck it on top of the pile of books by Connor’s bed. Leaned over and kissed Connor’s cheek. 

It wasn’t as cold as it had been. 

That was something.

He walked quietly out of the room, and started to head past the nurse’s station toward the elevator when he heard Alex’s voice behind him. “Walk of shame out of a hospital room,” She said, and her tone was teasing. “You don’t see that every day.”

Evan felt his face get warm. “I’m sorry. I shouldn’t have stayed I… Why didn’t you kick me out?”

She smiled. “I kind of… bullied a few nurses into letting you stay.”

“How’d you manage that?”

“Dude, no offense, but your boyfriend is a genuine medical miracle right now? I played for sympathy points. Boyfriend only just out of a coma works like a charm.” Alex grinned. “Plus, his temperature was almost normal for the first time since he woke up. You were essentially an incubator.”

Evan rolled his eyes. 

“You’re leaving?” Alex asked. 

He frowned. “I don’t want to but… I’ve been in these clothes since Saturday? And I had a fight with my mom and disappeared on her so I’m sure she’s pissed.”  
Alex gave him a sympathetic grin. “Don’t worry. I texted her when you turned up yesterday and let her know you were staying here when you two fell asleep. She doesn’t think you’re like dead in a ditch somewhere.”

That sobered Evan pretty drastically. 

It seemed to sober Alex up too. 

“Fuck,” She said. “Sorry, I -”

He shook his head. “I’m sorry. For… for how much of a mess I’ve made?”

Alex smiled weakly. “If it was Mattie I would be three times the mess, dude,” She said. “I’d be like… mainlining heroin or something. I dunno. Just, you know. You gotta take care of yourself, yeah?”

Evan nodded. “Yeah.” He blinked a few more times. “What time is it?”

Alex checked her watch. “Just after six.” 

“If he wakes up before I get back,” Evan said. “Will you let him know I just went home to change and apologize to my mom? I know I… I know I haven’t been here, but I swear I’ll be right back.”

“Of course.”

“Thanks,” Evan said, and then he pulled her into a brief but tight hug. “Thank you for everything you’ve done, just… Just thank you.”

Alex smiled at him genuinely as he turned to leave. A lot.

Evan’s stomach flipped nervously as he boarded the train, realizing he would need to face his mother when he got back to his apartment and… hating himself a bit. 

Fuck. 

Fuck. 

Why the hell would he have said that about her being a paralegal? Fuck,  _ Evan  _ had worked as a paralegal for a while, he knew it wasn’t just administrative, honestly it was probably why he was so good at contracts, fuck that was low. And the jab about when she chose to go back to school? 

That was unfair. 

She hadn’t known he was struggling. Because he hadn’t told her. Refused to tell her. Actively avoided talking about his mental health with her because she worried and Evan never wanted to worry her. 

Until, apparently, he decided she needed to suffer. Then he let her worry all of the time. Then he made her worry intentionally. 

He was… such an asshole. 

When Evan made it back to his apartment, nobody was awake inside yet. His mother was still sleeping, curled up in Evan’s bed, her arms tightly wrapped around one of his pillows. He quietly grabbed some clean clothes and picked up his phone from his desk, then snagged a towel and headed for the shower. 

He emailed Jonathan saying he was planning to work offsite for the foreseeable future to spend time with Connor, with the exception of his court appearances. His mom was right - this was a reasonable request. And if Jonathan had an issue, Evan could just… go to a different firm. 

In the last few weeks he’d had an absurd number of LinkedIn requests. 

The fishing waste case had made the Times. 

Evan shook his head. 

He got into the shower. Washed his hair and body carefully, frowning at the collection of marks and bruises on his hands and arms. 

He hoped Connor wouldn’t notice them. He didn’t need him to worry. 

Evan got out of the shower. He shaved, slowly and carefully, then brushed his teeth. 

He hadn’t taken his meds last night. Obviously. He went into his bedroom to grab them off of his nightstand and found his mom awake and making up the bed. 

“You’re back,” She said, her tone frosty. 

“I am so sorry,” Evan said, his heart in his throat. “I am so fucking sorry.”

His mom’s face didn’t change. “You scared me half to death. Running off like that -”

“I know,” Evan said. “I… You’re right. I’ve been… I’ve been. Such a mess. And I what I said… I was horrible to you. I am so sorry. Really fucking sorry.”

His mom sighed. “I’m just trying to help you.”

“I know,” Evan said, dropping his gaze, ashamed. “I’m sorry. I’ve been… I’ve been the worst. There’s no excuse for it and I am so sorry.”

His mom frowned at Evan for a moment, then pulled him into a hug. It was strange to feel how small and fragile she was. How breakable. 

Evan was overwhelmed by that feeling of being a bull in a china shop again. How easily he could totally decimate her. 

He could break her. 

Maybe he already had. 

“I’m going to go back to the hospital,” Evan said when his mom let him go. “I emailed Jonathan and said I’d work offsite this week.”

His mom smiled slightly. “Okay sweetheart.” She patted his cheek. “I’ll get my things and go with you.”

“You don’t have to,” Evan said. 

“I know,” She said. “But I’d like to keep an eye on you today.”

He supposed that was fair. 

“Okay.” He pulled her into another hug. “I love you. Thank you for… looking out for me.” He sighed. “I’m gonna be a lot better.”

“I know sweetheart.”

* * *

When Connor wakes up, Evan’s sitting in the chair next to Connor’s bed. He’s clearly showered and shaved and changed his clothes, so Connor must have been out for a while. He’s got a laptop and is working, his brow furrowed with concentration, and Connor just watches him for a while. 

It’s objectively creepy, he knows, but he likes to watch Evan work. Likes to see him focused on something he’s passionate about, likes to watch him in those moments where Connor can catch him unawares and he’s just Evan, doing what he does best. 

It makes Connor feel like maybe things can start to get back to normal. 

Maybe everything can be okay. 

“Hey sweetie, how are you feeling?”

Connor turns to the source of the voice to see that Heidi’s across the room, reading a magazine. She smiles at him, then looks at Evan, who’s looked up and has this hesitant look on his face which breaks into a tentative smile when he sees Connor looking at him. 

“Okay,” says Connor. “Not… not as cold.”

“That’s great,” says Heidi enthusiastically. “That’s a really good sign, Connor.” 

Evan reaches out and takes Connor hand tentatively. Connor squeezes it back as tight as he can and something in Evan’s face relaxes, just the tiniest bit. 

“That’s… that’s really great,” says Evan, and he lacks the enthusiasm of his mother but he’s smiling, actually smiling, even though it’s tentative, even though Connor can tell that he’s holding himself back. 

He hates that he’s holding himself back, that Evan’s keeping himself at a distance, but he thinks he understands. 

Just because he understands doesn’t mean he likes it. 

“Your physical therapist is going to be here later this afternoon,” says Heidi matter-of-factly. “Zoe’s at work, and your parents just went out for lunch.”

“They did, huh?” says Connor, looking straight at Heidi, who gets this kind of deer-in-the-headlights look. He can’t help but smirk at her. 

Connor is absolutely, one hundred percent sure that his parents are banging and that Heidi Hansen knows all about it. 

He looks at Evan, trying to see if he’s figured this out, but he’s engrossed in his work, even though he’s still holding Connor’s hand. 

Connor squeezes Evan’s hand, just to reassure him that he’s there. 

Evan squeezes Connor’s hand back absently, then goes back to his laptop, and Connor closes his eyes for a moment. 

Just for a moment. 

When they open, his physical therapist has arrived, and his dad’s in the seat next to where Evan just was, on his laptop, and his mom and Heidi are talking in the corner. 

“Where’s Evan?” Connor asks, trying not to panic. 

“Phone call,” says Larry, briefly looking up from his laptop. “With a client. He’s working offsite for the rest of the week, aside from a court appearance, but he’s just popped out to talk to someone. He’ll be back.” 

Connor nods. 

Tries to believe that. 

His dad heads out during his physical therapy session, but his mom stays around, as does Heidi. Heidi comments on various things as they go, asking clarifying questions of the physical therapist, and it’s actually really helpful. Connor’s just basically doing what he’s told at this point when it comes to physical therapy because he wants to be able to fucking walk himself to the bathroom so he can get this tube out of his dick, but it’s good to have Heidi there, helping explain what the hell it is these exercises are trying to accomplish, and figuring out ways to do them on his own when he gets his strength up. 

Evan comes in just in time to watch Connor take two steps unassisted then collapse. The physical therapist and Heidi both catch him before he falls to the floor, before he hurts himself, but it spooks Connor enough that he finds himself shaking, freezing cold, once again, and that brings the session to an end. They help Connor back to bed and Evan wraps a blanket around him, then pulls him into a hug. 

Connor forces himself to fucking breathe normally. 

To fucking relax and let his boyfriend keep him warm. 

“I got you,” Evan murmurs as Connor shakes. “I got you, it’s okay, you’re okay. I love you I love you I love you.”

Connor doesn’t miss that Evan’s voice is shaking, too. 


	45. FORTY-FOUR

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> “I don’t want to be the kind of person who just refuses to forgive.”

Connor was walking, a little. He could stand and he could take a few steps, and Evan was beyond relieved. He was walking. He could stand, not for a long time, but he could stand. 

That was something Evan had thought he might never see again. 

So he was relieved. 

But with that relief came a whole new set of worries. 

Because Connor was in pain. 

“It’s fine,” He kept saying after every physical therapy session. “I’m fine. Just sore.” He squeezed Evan’s hand, just a little tighter than he had before, and Evan felt his heart squeeze painfully. 

“We can adjust your pain meds,” Alex said, frowning. 

Connor shook his head. “They make me sleepy. I don’t… I don’t want more meds.” 

Alex pursed her lips but didn’t argue. “We can try other options. Massage. Ultrasound therapy. Heat.”

“Definitely that one,” Connor said, smiling. He was still cold all of the time. Evan hated it. “Anything where I can get warmer.”

“I’ll see what I can do,” Alex said with a smile. She headed out of the room, saying she would be back soon. 

Connor looked exhausted when Evan looked back. So exhausted. 

“You sure you don’t need more pain meds?” Evan asked Connor gently. “You could use more rest.” 

“I’m fine,” Connor said stubbornly. “Really. I’m fine. Just tired. And sore.”

“You’re sure you’re not pushing yourself too hard?” Evan asked him for probably the hundredth time in a few days. 

“I want to go home,” Connor said softly. “I just… I really want to be able to go home.”

“I know,” Evan said, tucking a piece of hair behind Connor’s ear. Kissing his cheek and wrapping his arms around him tentatively. Connor relaxed against him almost immediately. “You’ll be home before you know it. But only if you promise to go a little easier on yourself. Don’t undo your progress because you’re impatient.”

Connor rolled his eyes. “That’s very zen.”

Evan almost smiled. Not quite fully but it was… a start. “Give me a break, I’m doing sessions with Marcia three times a week.”

“Look at you being all healthy,” Connor joked. 

“Hey which one of us was able to successfully eat a banana today?” Evan returned. 

“Uh, both of us,” Connor said, frowning. “Mine had to be cut into tiny pieces. Like I’m a toddler.”

“Well maybe you’re going to graduate to dry Cheerios soon,” Evan quipped. 

“You’re the worst,” Connor complained with a smile. 

“I love you,” Evan said back. 

“I love you too.”

Alex returned to Connor’s room with a smile. “Okay, stop-gap solution for now,” She said. “But also, multitasking so I think you’ll be happy with it.”

“Sold,” Connor said. “What’s the grand plan? Acupuncture? That weird… heat cupping thing I saw on the internet?”

Alex laughed. “Nah, we’re just gonna get you in a nice hot bath. You can soak for a while and we’ll get someone to help wash your hair. Win-win.”

Connor stilled very suddenly. 

Evan felt his heart skitter to a stop, then speed up. 

“No,” Connor said, his voice panicked and tight. “No baths.”

Alex was still smiling. “Come on, you’re not one of those people who thinks it’s hanging out in a soup made of your dead skin cells right…?”

Connor’s breathing was getting faster and faster, and he began to shiver violently, and Evan tried to comfort him, rub warmth back into his arms, saying softly, “Hey, hey, it’s okay. It’s alright. You don’t need to do that. It’s okay. No bath.”

“I’m sorry, I-” Alex tried. “I don’t understand, I -”

“No,” Connor was repeating, his eyes closed tight, his body shivering so hard. “No no no…”

“Hey,” Evan said gently. “I’m here. You’re okay. You’re alright. It’s okay.” He hugged him just a little tighter. “Just try to breathe normally okay? We’ll count, yeah? Just focus on me, it’ll be okay… It’s okay.”

They slowly counted to ten and back, then to fifteen, then to twenty and back again, until Connor’s breathing slowed and he slumped back against Evan’s chest, clearly exhausted. “It’s okay,” Evan told him, kissing the side of Connor’s head. “You’re okay. I got you. I got you.”

Later, when Connor was asleep and Cynthia was sitting in a chair beside his bed, Evan went to find Alex. She looked so scared when she saw him. “He keeps having anxiety attacks and I don’t know what’s triggering them,” She said softly. “I’m fucking up. I don’t know what I’m doing wrong. I’m… This whole situation is making me feel like I’m going to get a call from the medical board to revoke my certifications.”

“This is not your fault.”

“He was in an inexplicable coma,” Alex said. “After an appendectomy which is like… a nothing surgery. Even when the appendix bursts, it’s not that serious. And I recommended Dr. Altera, I vouched for him and… And Connor was in a coma and I don’t know why. I can’t think of a single medical reason why he’d be circling the drain one minute and totally fine the next.”

Evan nodded. “It’s… it’s a very weird situation. It’s okay that you feel frustrated about it.”

“Frustrated hardly covers it,” She remarked drily. 

“Connor doesn’t like baths,” Evan said, his voice gentle. “In. Uh. In high school, he slit his wrists? He did it in a bathtub. He nearly died.” Evan cleared his throat significantly. “I don’t… It’s not mine to tell, but I know he’s not in any shape to tell it so I’m telling you as his doctor, okay? I just… I know bathtubs are really. Uh. Triggering for him? So… So that’s why he panicked earlier. Nothing you did, really, just a bad memory.”

“Noted,” Alex said. “Thank you. For telling me. I didn’t know.”

* * *

“This is taking for-fucking-ever,” Connor grumbles. 

Alex looks at him and blinks. “Dude,” she says, looking like she can’t decide whether to be pissed off or amused. “You nearly died last week. The fact that you’re even fucking breathing is a medical miracle. You can wait another ten minutes for someone who’s not me to touch your dick.”

Connor feels his cheeks turning pink. “That’s not what I-”

“I know you want the catheter out,” Alex says, not entirely without sympathy, “and normally I’d just go ahead and do it like the professional I am, but we both know it’ll be way less awkward for everyone involved if we just wait for a nurse.”

From his seat next to Connor’s bed, Evan is clearly trying not to laugh. 

And doing a very bad job of it. 

“I mean, if you’re that desperate to get rid of the thing, then go ahead, take off your pants and whip out Connor Junior,” says Alex, raising her eyebrows, and at that, Evan does burst into giggles.

“I can wait,” Connor says meekly, and Alex smiles. 

“Thought so.” 

“I bet you were nicer to me when I was in a coma,” Connor mutters under his breath. Evan stops laughing abruptly and Alex looks at Connor sharply. 

“Too soon, dude.” 

“Sorry.”

Alex sighs. Lets out this sad, confused sigh in a rush of breath, then sits on the edge of Connor’s bed. “I get making jokes about the shitty stuff,” she says, her voice a little pained. “I really fucking do. And maybe in, like, twenty years, we’ll be at Thanksgiving dinner together or something and it’ll be like ‘hey, remember that time Connor was in a totally inexplicable coma?’. And we might chuckle awkwardly and be like ‘yeah, wow, that was crazy’. But it’ll still suck to think about.” She frowns. “You… dude, I have no fucking idea  _ how _ you’re alive.”

She looks so confused and lost and there’s this horrible, impulsive part of Connor that wants to tell her. 

_ Well Alex, the reason I’m not dead is because I managed to get my consciousness or whatever sent back to my body from an alternate universe just moments before you turned off my life support. How’d that happen? Well, I got into a bathtub full of ice, even though I’m fucking terrified of bathtubs, and let some weirdo stop my heart. How’s that for an explanation for the hypothermia?  _

That kind of confession will get him a one-way trip to the psych ward, he knows without a doubt. 

Besides, Evan’s right there. 

And Evan can’t know about this. 

He just can’t. 

Connor can see that Evan’s trying. Really trying. He’s here, with Connor, and he has been pretty much since he visited on Sunday evening. Now it’s a Wednesday, exactly one week since Connor almost died, and Connor’s trying, too. 

He can walk from his bed to the bathroom, as long as he’s got something to help keep him steady. At the moment, he’s using some kind of walker, which is completely fucking embarrassing, but he can walk from his bed to the bathroom, which means that they can take out the catheter and he can pee like a fucking adult. 

And if he can do that, then they’ll let him go home in a few days. 

He’ll get to go  _ home. _

As well as physical therapy, Connor’s been in regular contact with his therapist Praveed. Praveed’s come to see him in person once and they’ve had almost daily phone calls, just to check in. It had been a little jarring at first to see his therapist while he was stuck in a hospital bed, especially considering that Praveed was in bright pink shorts and a tank-top covered in donuts and Connor was wearing about a billion layers of clothing. 

He hadn’t been able to hide his shock in that first visit, and honestly, Connor kind of appreciated it. Praveed has never been the kind of therapist who deals in bullshit, so having him genuinely tell Connor he looks like shit was a nice bit of normalcy. 

“I get that everything is probably hella overwhelming right now,” Praveed had said in that first visit. “So we’ll just play it by ear, yeah? I’ll call you every couple of days to check in, see how you are, and maybe once you’re home I can do a house call or something.”

“Okay,” Connor had replied, nodding. “That sounds… yeah, okay.”

Praveed had reached out and patted his shoulder gently. “This is, like, a super crazy situation,” he’d said with a nod. “And right now our priority is getting your physical health sorted and making sure you’re safe. There’s going to be a lot of emotions to deal with over the next little while, so we’ll talk about some strategies to help out and keep things from getting too overwhelming, okay?”

Connor appreciates his therapist a lot. He’s a good guy and he genuinely cares and Connor feels comfortable with him. 

Just… not comfortable enough to tell him any of the intensely weird shit that’s happened to him. 

There’s a soft knock on the door and in comes a nurse. She’s this tiny middle-aged woman who looks utterly no-nonsense and nowhere near the kind of person Connor would normally allow anywhere near his penis but it’s preferable to having this be A Thing with his boyfriend’s roommate, a roommate who’s practically his older sister these days. 

Evan still looks shaken up about the coma joke, but he kisses Connor on the cheek and asks the nurse if he should go. 

She shrugs, tells them it’ll only take a couple of minutes, then grabs a sheet, puts it on Connor’s lap and gets to work unplugging things. 

Alex salutes them dorkily with a grin, then heads out of the room. 

The nurse is not wrong. It takes barely any time for her to get the catheter out, get everything cleaned up and put away. It’s all so quick and easy that it’s kind of a non-event. 

Neither he nor Evan say anything until the nurse nods, tells him he’s all set, then heads out of the room. 

When they’re alone, Evan and Connor exchange a look and both crack up laughing. 

“Oh my god,” says Evan, wearing this big, bright smile that hurts Connor’s heart because he’d missed it so fucking much. “That little old lady just touched your dick.”

“She did,” says Connor through his own laughter. “So clinically, too. There was nothing tender in her touch. Like we’re in a fucking loveless marriage.”

“Oh my god,” Evan giggles, and Connor loves hearing him laugh, and they both just laugh for a stupidly long time, a stupid, ridiculously long time, and Connor feels lighter, lighter than he has in a while. 

“Speaking of marriages,” says Connor after the laughter dies down. “I’m genuinely convinced my parents are boning.”

Evan just looks at him and blinks. “What the fuck, really?”

“They’re all touchy-feely,” Connor announces. “And Dad’s been, like, way less uptight than usual, so he clearly must be getting laid.”

Evan looks like he has no idea what to make of this. He just takes Connor’s hand and presses a kiss to his knuckles. 

“You and your dad seem to be getting along a lot better,” Evan says after a moment, his voice cautious. 

Connor bites his lip. “Yeah,” he says, and he notices he sounds cautious, too. 

He feels weird about telling Evan about his dad’s apology, he realizes. 

Which is…

Well, he knows that Evan and Larry don’t get along. That there’s definitely bad blood between them. But he also knows they worked together on this lawsuit against the hospital, that they’re at the very least civil now, and…

Connor hates keeping things from Evan. 

And he’s keeping something big. 

So he can tell Evan this. 

He can tell him. 

“He apologized. For what he said before I took over the bookstore.”

Evan just stares at Connor for a moment. “He did?”

“Yeah,” Connor says, worrying his lip with his teeth for a moment, and Evan’s eyes widen, and Connor realizes too late that he’s too run down to do that right now without leaving a bruise, without tearing the skin, so he stops chewing on his lip before there’s too much more damage. 

He can taste blood. 

It makes him feel kind of sick. 

“Are… are you okay?” Evan asks, his voice wavering. “With… he apologized, sure, but he really… he really hurt you, he…” Evan’s brow furrows. “You were so sick last September, things got so bad for you, I…”

“You don’t think I should forgive him?”

“That’s not what I’m saying.”

Connor frowns. “What are you saying?”

Evan looks at Connor helplessly for a moment, then down at his lap. “I don’t know,” he admits. “It’s your call here, he’s your dad.”

Connor closes his eyes for a moment. 

Opens them again. 

Evan’s still looking at his lap. 

“I don’t want to be the kind of person who doesn’t forgive,” Connor admits. “I… fuck knows how often I fuck up, I’m always fucking things up, and people still… I was awful to Zoe for years and she still puts up with me, I… people have forgiven me for shit I’ve done when I probably haven’t deserved it.” 

Evan’s looking at him now. “Connor…”

“I don’t want to be the kind of person who just refuses to forgive,” Connor says determinedly. “I just don’t. So… yeah, I think I do.”

* * *

Evan didn’t get Connor’s willingness to forgive Larry, but then again, Evan didn’t get dads. So, that was probably part of it. 

Granted, Evan also didn’t get Connor’s willingness to forgive  _ him.  _ He had really fucked up, and yet Connor was happy to take him back with open arms and a truly overwhelming amount of love and forgiveness. It was… a lot. 

But Evan didn’t want to interrogate it because if he did, he worried he wouldn’t like what he found. He worried Connor might leave him. 

Evan wondered when an appropriate time would be to tell Connor he nearly didn’t come and say goodbye. That he avoided the hospital for days and got drunk in his pajamas because he had a “troubling” relationship with alcohol, according to Marcia. 

He was hoping the answer was the Tuesday after never. 

That seemed like a grand time to admit your utter failure as a partner and mental health buddy. 

So he didn’t say anything. 

He told himself it was because Evan was worried about Connor’s mental health. And it wasn’t that he  _ wasn’t _ worried about that. Prior to being hospitalized, Connor rarely if ever had full-on anxiety attacks like these. A few, when things got bad in September of last year, but they were still relatively unusual. Now they were common, just like the shaking and shivering and ice-cold hands and feet. 

God Evan hated that Connor was always cold. It wasn’t fair. 

Evan had rubbed his fingers over Connor’s socked feet the other night while a nurse was taking some blood to monitor Connor’s anemia, and Connor had nearly cried. He said his feet had been nothing but cold for ages now, and Evan’s warm hands felt nice. And it just… broke his heart. He hated this. 

He hated seeing Connor suffering. 

And he really  _ was _ trying. He really was doing his best to be… here. To be the partner that Connor needed, deserved, not the asshole who left him alone in the hospital the day after he woke up from a coma. 

Evan kept trying, even though he was exhausted. He rarely left Connor’s side. Only for court appearances and therapy appointments and when the nurses kicked him out at night. And during the day, Evan tried to do whatever he could to make things easier for Connor. 

A lot of the time, that amounted to sitting in bed with him, his arms wrapped around Connor, acting as a human space heater. Alex had shaken her head the other day and smiled at Evan while he let Connor nap against him. 

“What?”

“Just… Sometimes Mattie will do this with babies? Like… premature twins, especially. You stick them in the same bed, and they both start to improve. Science doesn’t really have an explanation.”

Evan wrinkled his nose. “Please don’t compare me and my boyfriend to twins.”

Alex stuck her tongue out at him. 

After Evan learned that Connor’s feet had been almost painfully cold for days and days, he came back the next morning with an assortment of thick, fuzzy socks that he had bought on his way in that morning. He sort of hoped they might help to cheer Connor up because he was starting to get antsy about when he would be allowed to go back home. 

Connor seemed to like the socks. He was especially a fan of the pair with little black cats on them. “They look like Edgar,” He said, sighing hopefully, and practically batting his eyelashes at Alex. Apparently desperate times… “And I’d  _ really _ love to see him…”

“One more day,” Alex said, unrelenting. “Just to be absolutely sure you can manage it. And you have to climb the dummy stairs for me first. So I can be sure your heart can keep steady on the climb.” She smirked. “Unless you planned to crash on a beanbag chair.”

“No thank you,” Connor grumbled, a determination in his eyes. “I will climb your stairs. Jump through any hoops you want.”

Alex rolled her eyes, “You genuinely should not jump right now, you’d probably total your whole body.”

“Yes ma’am,” Connor replied. Not long after, Connor was wheeled off to physical therapy to practice stair climbing. Evan kissed his cheek before he left. 

Sank into a chair in Connor’s hospital room, covering his face with his hands. For just a minute. Just a minute. He…

It felt especially tough to be excited by something as insignificant as stairs but Evan was. He was excited that Connor might pass the stairs test. He was excited that he might be able to go home tomorrow. 

That they might be able to get their lives back. 

Back to normal, back to being happy. 

Fuck, Evan thought. How had he ever taken for granted just how happy they were before all of this? 

He was trying to be realistic, not give in to the euphoria of everything improving as quickly as it had bottomed out, and Marcia had warned him that mood drops were very common after events like this and… 

It didn’t matter. 

Connor was going to get to come home. He was going to come home and last week he almost died. This was good news. This was what happiness felt like. 

Evan was excited. For the first time in weeks he genuinely had something he looked forward to. 

So he had better not fuck this up. 


	46. FORTY-FIVE

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> “He deserves someone who’ll try for him. He’s trying for you.”

There’s a lot of paperwork involved in being discharged from the hospital after nearly dying in it, Connor finds out. He’s got care instructions for getting his movement up and there’s a referral to keep seeing the physical therapist and there’s pain medication and there’s something to stop him from getting blood clots because he’s still going to be lying down a lot of the time and it’s just… a lot. 

Stupidly, overwhelmingly a lot, actually, and he kind of wants to yell and scream about it. 

He doesn’t, because he’s a fucking adult, but he really wants to. 

They don’t let him walk out of the hospital, which is fair enough, because he’s only just mobile. They put him in a wheelchair and an orderly pushes him outside. 

There’s a moment where they come out from under the awning and are in direct sunlight. It’s late in the afternoon. The entire sun shines on his face and it’s warm, it’s so warm, it’s wonderful. 

“Is the sun hurting your eyes?” Evan asks, sounding worried. 

“No,” Connor lies, squinting a little. “It’s… nice. Warm.”

Evan helps him into some kind of cab, which is a way nicer car than he usually gets in any kind of ride-sharing service. It’s big, and fancy, and kind of weird, having Evan and his mom and Connor and his parents in the car, all together. 

“Zoe’s making sure your apartment is warm enough,” says his mom, grasping his hand tightly. “She’s taken some of your stuff home already and she’s making sure there aren’t too many hazards, seeing as you’ll be needing help to get around for a little while.”

Connor, who’s aware that his apartment is covered in stacks of rogue books, winces a little. 

“We installed some new bookshelves in the living room yesterday afternoon,” says his dad matter-of-factly. “Zoe and I, and also one of your employees. Jax, I think it was, came up and helped on their break.”

Connor feels this burst of affection for Jax. “That’s nice of them.”

His dad’s phone beeps, and he reads the message, then looks at Connor. “Message from Zoe for you.” He hands Connor his phone and Connor reads it. 

**Connor - the bookstore kids say it’s been quiet today and are wondering if it’s okay for them to close up early so they can spend some time with you?**

Connor goes to reply, but his hands can’t quite manage it. He feels his face burn and hands his dad back his phone. “Can you tell her that’s fine and it’ll be nice to see them?”

His dad nods, then sends the message. 

Connor lets out a shaky breath, then leans his head on Evan’s shoulder. 

Evan presses a kiss to the side of his head and holds his hand tight. 

“Looking forward to being home?” Evan asks, his voice almost a whisper. 

“So fucking much,” Connor replies, and turns his head to kiss Evan properly. 

Evan’s so warm and so, so alive, and Connor loves him, loves him more than anything. 

He’s out of the hospital and it’s going to be okay. 

Everything’s going to be okay now. 

They get stuck in traffic for a little while and Connor falls asleep on Evan’s shoulder, but soon enough his mom is gently shaking him awake. 

“We’re here,” she says gently. “Sweetheart, you’re home.”

Home. 

Fucking finally. 

Connor lets his dad and Evan help him out of the car. Lets them get the walker thing to help keep him steady as he’s still not walking unassisted, his limbs are too weak. Honestly, it’s rough, and Evan is basically having to hold Connor up, which has to be a nightmare to manage, but Evan doesn’t complain, doesn’t even seem to notice that it’s hard. 

When they get through the door to the store, Connor’s already exhausted. He sees Maureen and Jax, doing a tidy up, and Edgar races to his side, meowing happily, and Connor honestly can’t face the stairs right now. He just can’t. 

“Can we stop?” he asks wearily. “In the sunshine spot, just for a moment, I want to… to sit. Is that okay?”

Evan’s eyes widen. “Of course.” 

It takes a little while, but Evan helps Connor into the armchair by the window, in the direct sunlight, and he closes his eyes and just… enjoys it. 

Lets it warm him through. 

He’s home. 

This is home. 

Edgar climbs onto his lap, then up to his shoulder and takes his customary perch, rubbing his face against Connor’s face continuously, purring contentedly. 

“Hey buddy,” says Connor to Edgar. “Missed you.”

“Mrow,” says Edgar Allan Paw, and rubs his nose on Connor’s cheek affectionately. 

“It’s good to have you back,” says Maureen, her voice shaky, and Connor opens his eyes to see that she’s taken a spot on a beanbag next to him, curled up against Jax, whose arms are around her. 

Evan sits on the arm of the armchair Connor’s sitting on, perching awkwardly, and Connor leans his head on Evan, just needing to feel that he’s there. 

“Your parents are upstairs with Zoe,” Evan tells him gently. “Your mom is putting extra blankets on your bed and your dad said something about ordering food for everyone. They’re just going through the notes and figuring out what’s best for you to eat at the moment.”

“Okay,” says Connor, closing his eyes and leaning his head against Evan again. It’s warm in the sun, and he’s surrounded by people who love him, and he feels safe, and he’s not freezing cold for the first time in forever, and it doesn’t take long for him to drift off. 

* * *

“We should wake him,” Cynthia said, worrying her bottom lip with her teeth. She looked around, blinking rapidly, and Evan could immediately tell she was feeling overwhelmed by the reality of their situation. Evan’s mom put her hand on Cynthia’s shoulder. 

Connor was too tired to walk up the stairs. He’d fallen asleep after only a few steps. He could walk, sure, but it was taxing. It wore on him. 

“I don’t know how else we’re going to get him upstairs,” Cynthia went on. She sniffed. “Sometimes I wish he was still little so I could just scoop him up when things aren’t so good.” 

“Amen to that,” Evan’s mom offered. 

Evan’s face burned a little. Connor was still leaning against him, and the way Evan was perching on the arm of this chair meant that his buttcheek had fallen asleep about twenty minutes ago, but Evan didn’t dare move. Connor was resting which meant Evan was staying put. 

“Maybe if Evan and Larry each took a side they could just… six-legged race their way up the stairs?” Heidi offered. 

Cynthia flinched and said something about how Larry had a bad back and some other various concerns of middle age. Something about how he wouldn’t admit to needing help so he’d end up hurting himself. 

But Evan wasn’t listening. 

He was weighing the pros and cons of just carrying Connor up the stairs himself. 

It wasn’t like Connor was heavy. Especially after the hospital. 

If he picked Connor up, Evan could hurt him. 

But if he didn’t, Connor could exhaust and hurt himself trying to climb up the stairs himself. 

He just hoped that everyone would keep the princess comments to a minimum. 

Evan shifted gingerly out from under Connor’s head. Edgar seemed to get the picture and hopped off of Connor’s shoulder, trotting up the stairs happily. 

“How long do you think it would take to have an elevator installed? Or one of those chair lifts?” Cynthia was musing to herself, pulling out her phone. “He could stay with me at the hotel for a few days…”

“He’d never use one of those,” Evan’s mom said reasonably. 

“I got it,” Evan said softly. He bent down and with way less effort than it should take, picked Connor up. Connor stirred slightly, his eyes fluttering open, his arms going around Evan’s neck automatically.

“Are you carrying me?”

“Told you you were easy to pick up,” Evan said quietly, trying to smile, trying to remind Connor of a better time, a joke about carrying him into the water if they went to the beach, something silly and nice and not garbage and scary.

“This is some… prince charming shit,” Connor said, his eyes drooping again already. “Like I’m… a fucking. Victorian heroine or… something.”

“Go back to sleep,” He told him. “I got you.”

Connor closed his eyes. 

Honestly the most difficult thing about maneuvering Connor up the stairs like this was that he was so damn  _ long _ . Evan had to keep a careful eye not to bump his feet against the wall or railing. But in less than a minute, Connor was upstairs and settled into his bed, all tucked in under blankets and blankets with Edgar Allan Paw snuggled up by his shoulder and Cynthia looked… relieved. 

“Thank you,” She said to Evan softly. 

“Of course.” He fidgeted awkwardly, tugging at the hem of his shirt. “We… We should wake him in a little while. So he can eat something?”

“Yes,” Cynthia said. She was watching Connor sleep, this totally unreadable expression on her face. She reached out, pushed some hair out of Connor’s face and pressed a kiss to his forehead. “I’m just… I’ll just sit here for a minute?” She said, perching on the edge of Connor’s bed. 

“You need anything?” Evan asked her. 

She shook her head. Looked at him properly, probably for the first time in days. “Thank you,” She said.

“He’s really not heavy,” Evan said awkwardly. 

“No. Not for that,” She said. “I know how hard this has been on you. But… Thank you. For being here for him. For… for trying.”

Evan understood her meaning.

_ Glad you stopped being such a fuck-up, Evan. _

_ Glad you managed to get your shit together a little, Evan. _

_ Glad I no longer feel unsafe leaving my kid around you, Evan.  _

_ Don’t you dare you fuck this up, Evan. _

Zoe was standing in the living room when Evan stepped out of the bedroom, holding a stack of books with a look of uncertainty on her face. She finally seemed to have decided where they belonged, rearranging a few things on a shelf to make room. “That’s the last of them,” She said. “He should be able to walk around without it being a trip hazard now.”

“Good,” Evan said. 

They hadn’t really… talked a lot. Since the day they were supposed to let Connor go. 

Evan felt like Zoe was probably pissed at him, but she hadn’t said anything.

He tugged at the hem of his shirt. Picked at his thumbnail. 

If she was pissed, Evan knew he deserved it but… he wished she wouldn’t be. Because they’d both been their own variety of a mess. It didn’t seem fair if she faulted him for not immediately being okay once the dust settled. 

Zoe bit her lip for a moment. 

Then looked Evan right in the eye. 

He looked away. 

“I know our parents are here for a little longer,” She said softly. “But I need to know… Can you handle this? If you can’t we can… We’ll gameplan something else, my mom will stay, we’ll -”

“I’ve got it,” Evan said stubbornly. 

Zoe sighed. “Had anything to drink today?”

Evan knew it was an entirely fair question but it didn’t sting any less. “No.”

“I’m not asking to be an asshole,” Zoe said plainly. “But when he was sick…”

“I know,” Evan said, his shoulders sagging. “I fucked up a lot. I’m sorry. I’m… I’m so sorry I left you to deal with most of that by yourself. I should have been there. I really… I fucked up.”

Zoe’s face softened a little. “Thank you. For apologizing.”

Evan nodded. “I’m really trying.”

“I can tell,” She said, not unkindly. “Connor said you’re doing three sessions a week with your therapist?”

“Upped my meds too,” Evan mumbled. “I… I knew things were bad and I let it… I’m trying to make it right. Okay? I’m trying.”

Zoe nodded. “Good.” She smiled. “He deserves someone who’ll try for him. He’s trying for you.”

That hurt something in Evan’s chest. “I know he is. I love him so much.”


	47. FORTY-SIX

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> "Be patient with yourself.”

Connor wants life to go back to normal. 

He desperately wants it to go back to normal.

But he’s starting to realize that’s just… not going to happen as fast as he’d like. Nowhere near as fast as he’d like. 

He’s trying not to let it get him down too much. 

It feels like he sleeps away the weekend. He gets out of bed a couple of times to go to the bathroom, though embarrassingly he needs Evan’s help to get walking, and he does his physical therapy exercises under Heidi’s watchful eye. 

“You’re really good at this,” Connor says to Heidi once they’ve finished a particularly draining set of exercises and Evan’s helping him back into bed. He’s shaking, and he hates it, and from the look on Evan’s face, he hates it, too. 

Heidi gives him this smile that’s not quite bright enough to be truly happy. “I had a lot of practice,” she says with a smile. “Did a lot of this kind of thing when I was a CNA.” 

“Maybe we should hire you full time,” Connor’s mom jokes. Evan kind of flinches uncomfortably, which Heidi clearly notices, but no one says anything. 

Connor’s still shaking uncontrollably, and he hates it, he hates it so much. Evan looks at him, and he looks so fucking sad. He climbs into bed next to Connor and pulls him close, holding him tightly, and it helps warm him up, helps him not feel so cold. 

And then he’s drifting back to sleep again. 

The next time he wakes up, he can hear a conversation going on. 

“... until the weekend, at least. Just to make sure everything’s okay.”

“I should… I should get back, the firm is asking after me, now that he’s out of the woods.”

Connor’s mom sounds hesitant, almost. “When do you think you’ll fly out?”

“They want me back on Monday,” says Connor’s dad. “But I’m pushing for a few more days. There are… I’m trying to take as many cases in the city over the next few months as I can, so I can keep an eye on him, but there are things back home I can’t get out of. I’m supposed to be in court on Thursday.”

“Of course,” says Connor’s mom. There’s resignation in her voice. 

“If anything happens,” says Connor’s dad, his voice soft. “If anything happens, and he takes a turn for the worse, I’ll be here, I promise.”

Connor’s mom lets out this horrible, choking sob. “Larry, we almost lost him.”

Connor’s dad’s voice is still soft, so soft. “I know, love. But he’s okay. He made it through, he’s strong.” There’s this soft laugh. “He’s strong like his mom.”

His mom laughs, and it’s almost as horrible and choking as her sobs, but louder this time, and Connor takes the opportunity to open his eyes, hoping it’s not super obvious he’s been inadvertently eavesdropping on his parents. 

His dad notices him first. “You’re awake,” he says with a smile. “How are you feeling?”

“Tired,” Connor confesses. “Cold.”

His dad frowns. “I was looking at the heating in this building. It’s up to code, but only just.”

Connor shrugs. “It’s an old building,” he says. “Makes sense.”

“We’ll need to look into maybe getting it upgraded in time for winter.”

Connor can feel himself drifting a little. “Winter’s months away. I’ll be fine by then.”

He notices his parents exchanging a glance. 

“Sweetheart,” says his mom. “You’re doing so well, you’re doing so much better, but it’s a miracle you’re even here at all. You’re going to need to be careful for the next little while, okay? Really careful.”

“The doctors said something about a possibly compromised immune system,” says his dad, his voice careful. “And you’ll have to be even more careful with your anemia, too. It could be a while before you’re back on the store floor, dealing with the public.”

Connor frowns. “I want my life back,” he says, knowing he sounds pathetic, but not really caring. “I want… I want to sell books and talk to people about books and host open mics and get in new authors and… I want my life back.”

“We know,” says his mom. “We know, honey, just… be patient, okay? Be patient with yourself.”

The next time Connor wakes up, it’s evening, and his mom asks if he feels up to sitting at the kitchen table to eat. 

Connor doesn’t know if he really does, but he says yes anyway because he thinks it’s a good idea. It feels like it takes forever to get from his bedroom to the kitchen table, but he makes it, almost entirely unassisted, and his mom wraps a blanket around him once he’s seated and kisses his cheek and takes a seat next to him. 

There’s tomato soup, and it’s warm and delicious, and there’s garlic bread as well, which makes Connor’s mouth water because he really fucking loves garlic bread, and he manages to eat most of a bowl of soup with bits of garlic bread in it, ripped up like croutons. To Connor’s amusement, Heidi seems a little confused as to why they’re eating soup and garlic bread. 

“I mean, I guess I understand,” says Heidi diplomatically, “it’s just not a combination I would have thought of.”

Larry looks at Heidi, frowning slightly. “Why not? It makes perfect sense to me. Tomato soup and garlic bread. You have garlic knots with marinara sauce, it’s essentially the same thing.”

Connor looks at Evan, who smiles at him, a real smile, and it warms Connor up more than the soup. 

“Don’t worry,” says Evan to his mom. “I still don’t get it, either.”

“But you eat it,” Connor points out. “And you say that it’s delicious.”

“It is delicious,” Evan concedes. “It is possible for something to be both delicious and confusing, you know.”

Connor grins at Evan and Evan gets this look on his face, this warning look, and Connor just knows that Evan’s trying to communicate to Connor that he’d better not say anything filthy and inappropriate in front of their parents. 

He’s not going to, obviously, but it’s fun watching Evan squirm. 

It almost feels like normal. 

“We found a chair for the shower,” says Connor’s mom after dinner. “So you can sit down if showering gets too much.”

“Okay,” says Connor. He’s kind of cold again and he’s aching all over and… pretty sure that he’s actually disgusting right now. He knows someone helped wash his hair at some point in the hospital, and that there were sponge baths or whatever when he was unconscious, which he totally doesn’t want to think about, but he can’t remember the last time he properly bathed. 

Suddenly, getting clean is all he wants. 

“I… I’m gonna do that now,” he says, and he tries to stand up. 

He manages it, for a moment, but then his legs give out and he collapses back onto the seat. 

Everyone looks at him for a moment, all looking horribly sad. 

“I’ll help,” Evan offers. 

Connor shakes his head. “No,” he murmurs. “I can do it myself.”

“No, you can’t,” says Evan pointedly. 

“I can,” Connor counters stubbornly. 

“You can hardly stand up!” Evan says immediately. 

“There’s a chair in the shower,” says Connor with a frown. “Once I get there I’ll be fine.”

“You’re not showering alone,” Evan says firmly. “That’s… no, what if something happens, what if you fall and hurt yourself?”

“I’m not a fucking child,” Connor snaps. 

“I know that,” Evan snaps right back. “But you are recovering from a fucking coma, and the last thing  _ any _ of us need is you drowning because you’re being a stubborn idiot.”

Connor blinks, a little taken aback at how sharp Evan’s tone is. 

He thinks idly to himself if he weren’t so annoyed about this whole fucking stupid situation, he’d think it was hot. 

He likes it when Evan’s bossy. 

Likes it a lot. 

Not the time, he reminds himself. And it’s not like his body’s going to cooperate anyway. 

Stupid fucking useless body. 

“Fine,” Connor says, sighing. 

“I’ll get a towel and some fresh clothes,” says Connor’s mom, and she heads out. 

“I’m just going to turn on the heater in the bathroom, okay?” says Heidi, and she heads out, too. 

Zoe and their dad are doing the dishes, so it’s just Evan and Connor at the kitchen table now. Evan’s looking at Connor, clearly frustrated, and Connor hangs his head. 

“Sorry,” he mumbles. “Sorry, I’m just… this is fucking embarrassing, I’m fucking useless and I hate it.”

“You’re not useless,” says Evan firmly. “You’re just recovering. You just have to be patient.”

Connor almost smiles. “Have I ever struck you as a patient man?”

Evan’s eyes flash with something familiar. “Trust me, I know exactly how impatient you are.”

Connor bites his lip. 

Fuck, if things were normal, he’d be dragging Evan into the bedroom and showing him that he doesn’t have much going on in the patience area sometimes either. 

But there’s no way he has the energy, or the drive, and his body isn’t going to cooperate. 

And Evan… he wouldn’t, Connor knows. 

He wouldn’t touch Connor like that now, touch Connor in any way that’s not to comfort or to warm, to show affection and love. He won’t touch Connor in a way that shows he  _ wants _ him, because Connor’s disgusting right now, he’s skin and bones, and there’s nothing fucking sexy about that. 

Evan’s tired and pale and there are still dark circles under his eyes, and little bruises and scratches on his hands and arms that Connor desperately wants to examine, to soothe, to fix, but he’s warm and alive and he is so, so fucking beautiful. 

He’s always beautiful. 

“I’m sorry,” Connor says again. “Will you help me shower, please? I… I feel really gross.”

Evan presses a kiss to Connor’s cheek softly. “Of course I will, love. Of course.”

* * *

Evan helped Connor into the bathroom. Connor was clearly straining himself with the effort to walk, so Evan put down the toilet seat lid and helped him sit down. Connor’s cheeks were pink and Evan could tell he was embarrassed. 

He bit his lip. “We don’t… If you want I can get your mom?”

Connor’s eyes narrowed. “If you want. I know I’m gross and you don’t want to see… all of that.”

“No!” Evan rushed to say. “No, that’s not - I’m  _ not _ saying that -”

“I see how you’ve been looking at me, I know I  _ disgust _ you -”

“Connor,” Evan tried, his voice urgent, but Connor wasn’t listening. 

“You won’t even touch me and now-now you’re just going to think of me as this… broken thing, you’re never going to want me-”

“Of  _ course _ I’ll want you.”

“I’m not always gonna be like this,” Connor said, his eyes glassy, “I swear I’m gonna get better, can you just hold on?”

“Hey,” Evan said, kneeling down and taking Connor’s face gently in his hands and kissing him softly. “Hey. Please look at me okay?”

Connor looked up tearfully. 

“I don’t think any of those things,” Evan said, trying to keep his voice gentle and even and kind. “I don’t. I know how hard you’re working. I just… I just want to help you.”

Connor sniffled, looking away. His eyelashes were damp and Evan hated it. He hated it a lot. “It’s fucking embarrassing,” Connor mumbled. 

“I’m sorry,” Evan said. He leaned in and kissed Connor again, softly. “You don’t have to be embarrassed.”

“I know this isn’t what you signed up for,” Connor said, his voice raspy, his eyes dropping to his knees. 

“You’d do it for me,” Evan said, tilting Connor’s chin up gently. “Right?”

“Yeah, but -”

“This is the stuff you do when you love someone,” Evan said. 

Connor laughed sort of weakly. 

“And you’ll feel better, I think,” Evan said. “I just want you to feel better.” He took Connor’s hands. “Please will you let me help?”

Connor sighed. Sniffed again. “I do like it when you ask me nicely.”

Evan laughed, surprised. He kissed Connor again. “I love you? I really love you.”

Connor smiled. “I love you too.”

“Okay,” Evan said. “Shall we do this?”

Connor frowned. “I want it noted that this is absolutely mortifying.”

Evan nodded and kissed Connor’s cheek. “I know. But don’t worry. I’ll blow you in this shower every day once you’re recovered.”

Connor laughed. 

“I’ll put the memory of this so far out of your mind you won’t even think to remember it.”

Connor’s bottom lip quivered and he looked seconds from bursting into tears again. He took in a deep breath. “I’m gonna hold you to that,” Connor said, his voice wobbly. 

“Good. I want you to,” Evan said. He stood up and switched on the tap, letting the water in the shower warm up. Once the water was warm enough, Evan pulled off his own clothes. He could tell Connor was watching him, but he tried not to be self-conscious. Then Evan helped Connor to take off the several layers of clothes he was wearing. When Evan removed the final layer, a thin cotton t-shirt, he had to try very hard to keep his face neutral. 

Because Connor was… skeletal. 

It was jarring. 

And then there was the incision site. 

It was massive. 

And still red and painful looking. 

Evan refused to let his gaze linger. He just helped Connor to his feet and helped him step out of his sweats. “Alright,” Evan said, helping Connor to his feet. They walked slowly into the shower and Evan could tell that Connor’s legs were shaking. 

“Here, sit,” Evan said and Connor sat. 

“I hate this,” Connor said softly. 

“Okay,” Evan said. “I’m sorry. Want me to distract you?”

“How?” Connor mumbled, tipping his head back. 

“Well, I have gossip,” Evan said, lathering shampoo into Connor’s hair. 

“How can you possibly have gossip?” Connor said. “We haven’t left the house in days.”

“The gossip is coming from inside the house,” Evan joked. 

Connor laughed weakly. 

“Your parents are definitely boning.”

“What? What do you know?” Connor said, laughing. “Ew, they didn’t bang here did they?”

“Oh god I didn’t even think to ask,” Evan said, pulling a face. 

“Ask who? You didn’t  _ ask _ them did you?”

“Oh god no,” Evan said. “I overheard my mom and yours talking this morning before you woke up. My mom is  _ very _ amused by this information. She told me while your folks ran out to pick up your meds from the pharmacy. Together. _ Holding hands _ .”

“That is… so fucking weird.” Connor laughed weakly. His eyes were closed as Evan washed his hair.  _ This  _ was weird, Evan thought. Extremely weird. But Connor needed help so here he was. 

“You okay?” Evan asked Connor. 

“Yeah,” Connor said, smiling. “I’m okay.”

“Alright, let’s rinse your hair out,” Evan said and Connor leaned his head back to allow that. Evan ended up using a little too much conditioner in Connor’s hair, but Connor said it was probably fine since his hair was so knotty from laying down all of the time. 

All in all it was… not nearly as bad as Evan was worried it might be. He helped Connor to towel off, and Connor started to shiver pretty aggressively. 

“Here,” Evan said, helping Connor to pull on clean clothes. 

“Thanks,” Connor said, his teeth chattering. 

Evan pulled on his own clothes, and then looked at Connor critically, “Do you think you can walk to your room?”

Connor sighed. “I want to say yes but… I’m really fucking tired.”

“It’s okay,” Evan said. “I’ve got you.”

Evan picked Connor up and carried him back into his bedroom. Connor cracked jokes sleepily the whole time, mumbling, “Are you going to go and slay a dragon when you’re done here?”

“Already did,” Evan returned. “I just showered off all the dragon guts and stuff back there.”

Connor laughed weakly as Evan helped him into bed, pulling the covers up to his chin. 

“You wanna sleep?” Evan asked. 

Connor nodded. “Yeah.” 

“Okay, let me just go take my meds,” Evan said, “And I’ll be right back.” 

He hurried off to the kitchen to get some water, and then Evan kissed his mom on the cheek to say goodnight. He returned to Connor’s room and took his meds with a swallow of water, and then Connor took a sip from the glass to take his own meds. Evan climbed into bed beside Connor, wrapping himself around his boyfriend and smiling at the way Connor sighed contentedly. 

“Sorry I freaked out early,” Connor mumbled. 

“That was not freaking out,” Evan said, kissing Connor’s cheek. “You’re okay.”

Connor rested his head against Evan’s chest, his arms squeezing a little tighter. He was still shivering a little, so Evan rubbed his hands up and down Connor’s arm. 

Connor stopped Evan’s hand suddenly. “What’s that?” Connor’s hand had wrapped weakly around Evan’s wrist. 

Evan felt his heart drop. “It’s nothing -”

“Is that a cigarette burn?” Connor asked, sounding worried. 

Evan swallowed hard. “Yeah. I got myself a few days ago. It’s fine.”

Connor frowned. 

Then he gently kissed the spot. 

Closed his eyes. 

And was asleep.


	48. FORTY-SEVEN

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> "You love him. You do your best. That’s all you can do.”

Connor’s determination to get his life back to normal only increases the better he starts to feel. His mom and Heidi and Evan keep telling him not to push himself too hard, to be patient with his progress, but he just wants to get better, to get moving.

He wants his life back. 

Once he’d been allowed his laptop back, he’d gone into his personal work email, the one that’s not the main store email, and promptly freaked out at the hundreds and hundreds of unread emails. 

Evan had taken one look at his inbox and basically jumped into action. 

“Okay,” said Evan, his tone matter of fact. “I know this seems overwhelming, but let’s just break it down. Anything that was CC’d to the main store email, Leslie and Maureen and Jax will have dealt with while you were away. Let’s filter all those out, then see what we’re left with.”

Connor had done as he was told, which had taken care of a decent chunk of them. Next, he’d filtered out anything that was obviously a promotion or some shit. After that, he was still left with just under a hundred emails. 

“Fuck.”

“You don’t have to answer these right away,” Evan had assured him. “But we’ll send out an email to all of them, okay? Just letting them know that you’ve been sick and if it’s urgent, to email the main store email address.”

“That kind of seems… unprofessional,” Connor said, frowning a little. “Like, I haven’t answered some of these emails in over a month.”

Evan had just looked at him, this unreadable expression on his face. “That’s because you spent most of that month in a fucking coma, Connor.”

“Well, when you put it  _ that _ way-”

“People knew,” Evan interrupted, something horrible and flat in his voice. “People knew what happened to you, they knew how serious it was. Anyone who doesn’t understand that or who gives you shit for not responding isn’t someone you want to be working with.” 

Connor had nodded, trying to figure out what to say, because Evan had just looked…

So sad. 

So fucking sad. 

So he’d kissed him gently, then turned back to his screen.

“Okay, so how about this,” he began. “Thank you for your email. Sorry I didn’t answer it earlier, I was in a coma. I am currently out of the office, existing as a full-time skeleton hobo, so if it’s urgent, email  hello@littlebooknook.com , otherwise kindly calm your tits, I’ll sort you out when I’m human again. Yours cordially, Connor Murphy.”

Evan had stared at his screen for a full minute before looking at Connor and rolling his eyes. “You are not sending this email.”

“Why not?”

“For one thing, ‘calm your tits’ isn’t gender-neutral.”

“I think you’ll find it says  _ ‘kindly _ calm your tits’, Evan, I’m a fucking professional.”

“Oh my god.”

Connor had, in the end, not sent that particular email, but had let Evan help him draft something far more boring and work-appropriate. The whole ordeal had left him so exhausted he’d then had to sleep for four hours. 

On Tuesday, Evan has a court appearance, and Connor manages to convince his mom and Heidi that they should let him go downstairs and sit in the sunshine spot for a while. Edgar runs on down ahead to herald his arrival, and soon enough, Jax is at the bottom of the stairs, helping him down the last few and around the corner to the sunshine spot. Once he’s in the armchair, Edgar settles on his shoulder, and his mom puts a blanket on his lap. 

“Mom, come on,” he grumbles. “I don’t want people to see me sitting around with a blanket on my lap, that’s fucking embarrassing.”

“You’re shivering,” Heidi points out, her eyebrows raised, and even though Connor’s pretty good at arguing with his mom, he still doesn’t think he should be talking back to his  _ boyfriend’s _ mom, so reluctantly lets the blanket stay. 

“It’s been kind of quiet,” says Leslie, who comes over and gives Connor a hug. “But it’s good to have you here. Just rest, yeah? Stay warm. I can grab you something to read if you want.”

“I’m okay,” Connor says, feeling fatigue wash over him. “I just… want to sit, if that’s okay.”

“Of course,” says Leslie, hugging him again. She squeezes his hand gently before heading back onto the store floor, restocking one of the children’s literature sections. Connor’s mom looks on with interest and ends up heading over and asking some questions, which Leslie directs immediately to Jax, their resident children's literature expert. 

It takes a moment for Connor to realize that it’s just him and Heidi, sitting in the sunshine spot. 

He doesn’t remember it having just been him and Heidi the whole time he’s been sick. Fuck, half the time he doesn’t even remember her having been here. He’s glad she is, because he’s always liked Heidi, and it’s obvious that this has been hard on Evan, but…

Fuck, he’s so stupidly ungrateful, Heidi’s clearly dropped everything and come all the way to New York because Connor got sick and he hasn’t even acknowledged that, what the fuck.

“You okay, Connor?” Heidi asks, looking at him and frowning slightly. 

“I’m fine,” Connor says immediately. He offers her a weak smile. “I just… I realized I haven’t even, like, thanked you properly?”

Heidi’s whole face softens. Her eyes get a little misty. “Sweetie, you don’t have to thank me,” she says, her voice gentle. 

“You came all the way out here because I got sick,” Connor points out. “I… I really appreciate it? I know that… I know Evan doesn’t like to… to let people help him, but I’m sure he does, too.”

Something strange and scared passes over Heidi’s face, only for a moment. Connor blinks, and then it’s gone, and she’s smiling, reaching out and taking Connor’s hand gently. 

Her hands are warm, just like her son’s.

“I’m just glad you’re doing better,” she says, sounding sincere. “You… you mean so much to Evan, he loves you so, so much, and you…”

Heidi blinks rapidly a few times, and Connor’s suddenly very aware that she’s going to cry. 

“I’m sorry,” he says hurriedly. “I didn’t mean to upset you-”

“Evan told me,” she says, her voice so quiet. “He told me what happened. When he took the bar exam.”

Connor feels a rush of cold brush through him, like a gust of wind on the top of a roof on a night that never ended. “He did?”

“He told me that you saved his life,” Heidi says, her voice so small. “I didn’t… I didn’t know, he didn’t tell me until we…” She blinks a few more times, and she’s definitely crying, and Connor’s cold. “Until we thought we were going to lose you. Until we thought we were going to have to let you go.”

“Oh,” says Connor, not knowing what else to say. “I…”

“He said you didn’t really know each other then,” Heidi continues. “You just… you saw him in the liquor store and recognized him from high school and followed him home and… and talked him off the roof.” She sniffs and squeezes his hand. “You don’t… you don’t understand how much that… how much that means to me. How much… you saved my son, Connor, and I didn’t know, I didn’t thank you for it, and you could have died and I wouldn’t have thanked you properly.” 

“I didn’t-”

“You didn’t do it for thanks,” Heidi says, nodding. “I get that. I do. But when you… when you talked him down, you didn’t really know him. He was a stranger. You… you saw a stranger who was hurting and you saved them, Connor.” She squeezes his hand again. “You’re a good man. I’m glad the world didn’t lose you.”

Connor feels his face heat up, feels tears prickle under his eyes. 

Because he can’t tell her that’s not what happened. 

He can’t tell her that when he saved Evan, he knew him. He knew him, he’d died with him over and over again. That when he saw Evan when he was a stranger, he’d barely given him a second glance. 

And he can’t tell Heidi that he lived in a universe where he’d been too late. 

A universe where he couldn’t save her son. 

A universe where maybe, he didn’t even try. 

Connor shakes his head. “I’m not… I’m just…” He lets out a shaky breath. “Believe me, Heidi, I’m not… I’m not that good a person, I’m kind of an asshole most of the time.” He laughs a little. “You’re friends with my mom. She’ll tell you.”

Heidi looks horribly sad for a moment. “Your mom thinks the world of you, Connor,” she says gently. “So does Evan. And so do I.”

Connor can’t explain why he doesn’t deserve that. 

But he knows that he doesn’t. 

Not even a little. 

* * *

“You’re sure you don’t need me to stay a few more days?” Evan’s mom asked him for the fourth time in the last hour. He was back at his own apartment for the first time in days to help her finish packing everything she needed up. Not that she’d brought much - there was no way she could have known she was staying this long when Cynthia had asked her to come. But Evan still insisted her go with her to help. 

He had made such a fucking mess of everything, and now she was trying to convince him to let her stay. 

Evan had half a mind to just… let her. She was so good with Connor and helping him with his physical therapy. She was far more patient than Evan was, and she took care of stuff that kept escaping him - reminding Connor to take his next dose of meds, making sure Evan went to therapy, running interference with Larry, Cynthia, and Zoe because there was definitely still some tension lingering since… 

Well. 

Since everyone knew that Evan knew they thought he couldn’t handle helping Connor. 

So he almost said, “Sure mom. Stay. In fact, quit your job back home. Move here full time. I absolutely cannot do this without you.”

But he didn’t because he wanted to prove to himself, to her, to everyone that he could do this. 

Because Evan could do this. 

His mom hugged Connor for a long time before she went. Kissed him on the cheek, told him to take care of himself and to try to be more patient with himself. Then she hugged him again. Then once more for good measure. She hugged Cynthia and Larry too, and insisted they call if they needed anything at all. She gave Zoe her phone number and asked her to keep in touch. She rubbed Edgar’s tummy and told him to stay out of trouble. Then she hugged Connor one last time. “Love you,” She said to Connor as they left the bookstore. 

Connor smiled brightly at her when she said that. 

And then it was just Evan and his mom, in a car on the way to the airport. 

Somehow, Cynthia had managed to take the return ticket Evan had bought his mom and transform it into a business class return flight at a much later date using what Evan could only imagine was rich white lady witchcraft. 

“Thank you,” Evan said to his mom softly as the car rushed out of the city, the buildings shrinking behind them. “For everything. I don’t… I know I wasn’t -”

“You don’t need to thank me for being your mother,” She said, taking his hand and squeezing it tightly. “But I appreciate it all the same.”

They were quiet for a long stretch. And then, as they approached the drop-off area of the airport, Evan looked at his mom, panic climbing up his throat. 

What if he couldn’t do this?

What if he fucked it up again?

What if…

“Evan,” She said gently. 

“Yeah?”

“You can do this,” His mom said. She looked him straight in the eyes and nodded firmly. “You love him, don’t you?”

“Yes,” Evan said. “I love him so much.”

“And you want to help him?”  
“I do.”

“You want to take care of him, right?”

“Yes,” Evan said. “I want to take care of him. I… all I want is to take care of him.” He felt his eyes tear up, his throat grow tight. “I love him so much but I am terrified I’m going to screw this up again.”

His mom pulled Evan into a hug. “That’s all you can do. You love him. You do your best. That’s all you can do.” She kissed him on the cheek. “You’re going to be okay. You will get through this and you will be okay. I love you, and you love Connor, and you will be okay.”

Evan laughed weakly. “You have a lot of faith in me.”

She smiled. “Of course I do. You amaze me.” His mom pulled on the back of his neck so their foreheads touched. “You have no idea how truly remarkable you are, Evan. You have been through… so much. You’ve pulled yourself through so much. You can do this.”

“Okay,” He said. 

His mom let him go. 

They both wiped their eyes. 

The car pulled up to the red zone. Evan got out of the car with his mom and pulled her into a tight tight tight hug. 

“I love you.”

“I love you.”

“Call me every day,” His mom said. “I’m serious Evan. Every day.”

“Okay.”

“And I can be back if you need me. As soon as you need me, I’m on the next flight, okay?”

Evan nodded tearfully. They hugged once more. 

“I love you.”

“I love you.”

“Be safe,” His mom said. 

“Text me as soon as you land,” Evan said. “Please?”

“I will.”

“I love you.”

“Love you too.”

* * *

Connor knows that getting things back to normal will be considerably easier once his parents and Evan’s mom aren’t around all the time. It doesn’t mean it doesn’t kind of suck to say goodbye to Heidi when she leaves. 

Evan goes with her to the airport, and as much as Connor wishes he could go with them, he knows it’s a terrible idea, so doesn’t suggest it. 

It’s weird without Heidi, but it’s even weirder once Connor’s dad leaves. 

“I’m in and out of the city for the next few weeks,” he says when he stops by the bookstore before heading to the airport. “I’ve…” He looks at Connor, something a little hesitant in his face. “I’ve requested as many cases in New York as possible for the foreseeable future. I don’t have to… I don’t want to get in the way, but I would… appreciate the chance to check in on you. See how your recovery is going.”

“That sounds good,” Connor says, and he’s surprised to find he actually means it. He offers his dad a smile. “I’m still trying to track down some crime novels that’ll keep you on your toes. Give me a bit of time to get back into the swing of things, I’m sure there’s something out there.”

His dad smiles at him. Nods politely. 

Looks like he’s about to offer Connor his hand to shake, like he has since… fuck, Connor can’t even remember when hugs from his dad turned into handshakes. 

His dad doesn’t shake his hand now. 

Instead, he bends down and pulls Connor into a cautious but firm hug. 

Connor’s surprised at first, but lets himself sink into it. 

There’s a twisting in his chest, because his dad smells the same as he did when he was a kid, and there’s clearly some kind of muscle memory there, something that triggers the feeling of when he was a kid and a hug from his dad made him feel safe, protected, like everything was going to be okay. 

When his dad pulls away, Connor sees that his eyes are red. 

“Rest up,” says Larry, putting his hand on Connor’s shoulder and squeezing it lightly. Then he turns, takes Evan’s hand and grasps it firmly. Evan’s eyes widen. “Take care of him, won’t you?”

“Of course,” Evan says, looking a little shell-shocked. 

“I’ll walk you downstairs,” says Connor’s mom, and soon his parents are both disappearing down the stairs and through the bookstore. 

Evan looks at Connor and immediately looks alarmed. “Connor, you’re crying.”

Connor absently wipes his face. His fingers come away wet. “Huh.”

Evan kneels down and kisses his cheek. “You okay?”

“I’m okay,” Connor assures him. “It’s just…” He laughs. 

“What?”

“I can’t remember the last time my dad hugged me, you know?” Evan looks at him with this expression Connor can’t decipher. Connor shrugs. “It’s… it’s okay, it’s just… getting used to it. It’s different.”

“Yeah,” says Evan, his voice cautious. 

Connor can tell that Evan’s still not sure about Larry, and honestly, neither is he. 

But he’s willing to give his dad a chance. 


	49. FORTY-EIGHT

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> “I’ll listen to you complain anytime."

Evan has another court appearance at the end of the week. 

Connor misses him. It feels quiet with just him and his mom, now that everyone else has gone home, and he ends up convincing his mom, once again, that he should be allowed to go downstairs and hang out in the sunshine spot. 

Getting down the stairs is a little easier today, but he’s still exhausted when he settles into what’s become his armchair. His mom potters around the bookstore a bit, chatting a bit more with Jax about children’s literature, and Connor finds himself dozing in the sun, enjoying that he’s warm. 

It’s still a pain that he’s only really warm when he’s wearing at least three layers of clothing, but the sunshine spot helps. It really does. 

It’s the warmest he’s been aside from when Evan’s holding him, because Evan’s always warm. 

He drifts in and out. Today he’s in more pain that he was the day before, which he’s trying to hide from his mom, but she seems to have noticed and insists he take a stronger dose of the pain medication he’s on. 

“You did have surgery,” his mom reminds him when he complains. “You’re still healing from that as well. You need to be a little kinder to yourself, darling.”

She kisses him on the forehead and squeezes his hand and he dozes some more, Edgar curled up on his shoulder protectively, both of them just basking in the sun. 

The next time Connor wakes him, it’s to Maureen gently shaking him awake. 

“Hey,” she says, her voice soft. “Your mom went to that smoothie place a few blocks down? She just texted me and wants to know what flavor smoothie you want.”

“The mango one is really good,” Connor says, blinking a little. He’s still not really awake properly. “Mango and banana, I think?”

“Done,” says Maureen, and smiles at Connor, then fires off a text. When she’s done, she looks at Connor, her brown eyes soft and searching. “You’ve got more color today,” she says gently. “It’s good to see you improving.”

“Don’t feel like I’m improving,” Connor admits. He’s tired and he’s sore and he’s a bit more honest that he probably should be, especially with Maureen, who he always tries to be gentle with. “I feel so fucking useless. I should… it’s so fucking unprofessional to just… nap in my bookstore, I know, but it’s the only place I’m warm.”

Maureen reaches out and pats him on the arm. “It’s not unprofessional at all,” she says softly. “You told me once that this place felt like home to you. You’re allowed to be here while you rest.” She smiles this sweet, sad smile. “It… it makes me feel better, seeing you there. Seeing that you’re okay.”

“I’m okay,” Connor says immediately. “I… fuck, you don’t need to listen to me complain, sorry.”

“I’ll listen to you complain anytime,” says Maureen quietly. “It’s… Connor, you can complain all you want, as much as you like, and I won’t care, as long as you’re awake and alive.”

Connor blinks. Blinks again. “Maureen,” he says softly, trying for a smile. “Getting all sentimental on me.”

Maureen looks a little teary, but she smiles back. “I know, I know, I’m a sap. Get your boyfriend to sue me, I don’t care.”

“Never,” says Connor, moving his arm a little so he can take Maureen’s hand and squeeze it. “You just keep being you, okay?”

It’s not long before Connor’s mom is back with a huge tray full of smoothies. “I decided that we could all do with a smoothie,” she announces. “Maureen and Jax, I wasn’t sure what you’d like and I didn’t want to hold up the line so there are a couple of options.”

The store’s empty, so Maureen turns over the ‘back in ten minutes’ sign and she and Jax join Connor and his mom in the sunshine spot. Connor’s mom takes a spot on the other armchair, while Jax and Maureen curl up together on a beanbag, Maureen in Jax’s lap. 

Jax kisses the side of Maureen’s face, then Maureen turns to kiss them properly, and Connor can’t help but grin. 

“So do I need to start mixing up your shifts so I know you’re not making out while you’re on the clock?” Connor teases. Jax goes bright red and Maureen’s eyes go wide. 

“I promise we’re being professional!” she squeaks. 

“Mostly,” Jax mutters. 

“Honesty is the best policy,” Connor says, grinning at Jax, who lets out this awkward chuckle and runs their fingers through their hair. 

“We work well together,” Maureen says, and she’s definitely pink.

“I know you do,” Connor says with a smile. “I’m glad to see you crazy kids finally worked it out.”

Connor’s mom lets out a laugh. “That’s almost exactly what Heidi said when you and Evan finally started dating. How long did it take the two of you to figure it out? A year?”

“A year and a half,” Connor admits, and now he’s the one blushing.

“Please tell me it wasn’t that long for you two,” says his mom, looking at Jax and Maureen. 

Maureen’s looking at Jax like they’re the only person in the room with this soft, fond smile and Jax just looks totally lovestruck. It makes Connor feel warm inside. 

“I met Maureen when I first started working here last September,” says Jax, and there’s something in their voice akin to wonder. “I knew from the moment I laid eyes on her that I was totally gone.”

“And then didn’t say anything for nearly a year,” says Maureen teasingly. 

Jax blushes. “I didn’t think you’d want me.”

“I did,” Maureen replies immediately. “I do.”

“Stop it, you’re too cute,” Connor says, rolling his eyes. 

“So what made you say something?” asks Connor’s mom, and both Jax and Maureen look at Connor, and something in the mood shifts. 

“We found out that Connor woke up,” says Jax after a moment, their voice serious. “And I realized that life was just too short not to tell the people you love how much they mean to you.”

Connor’s mom tears up immediately. “It is,” she says, reaching out and squeezing Connor’s hand tightly. “It really is.”

* * *

Connor was shaking. 

He was shaking and shaking and shaking, shivering so hard but Evan didn’t know why. He was ice cold. His teeth chattered. 

“What’s going on?” Evan asked him, trying to rub some warmth back into his hands. “Connor, what’s happening?”

“I need to get back,” Connor said, his voice grim. Determined. “I need to get back.”

“Get back to where?” Evan asked him. “Connor? Where are you trying to go?”

Connor looked at Evan, his face pale, expression stony. “I… Back to you.”

“What?” Evan said, confused and scared and not understanding. 

“You’re not… here,” Connor said. “You’re not anywhere. So I have to go back.”

Evan tried to grab Connor’s hand but his hand passed through Connor’s arm, like he was intangible, a ghost, not solid, not real. 

“What?” Evan looked around, frantic. “What’s going on?”

Connor’s eyes flooded with tears. “I can’t tell you. I can’t tell you.”

“Tell me what?” Evan shouted, confused and disoriented and freaking the fuck out. “Connor, what can’t you tell me?”

“I’m sorry,” Connor said. “I’m so sorry.”

And then he was gone, he was flatlining in a hospital bed and Zoe was screaming and sobbing against Evan’s chest and Alex was pulling the tube from his throat and covering his face with a sheet and Evan was screaming too, screaming and screaming and…

Evan woke up in the middle of the night, his heart thumping hard in his chest. Connor was asleep against him, his head on Evan’s chest, his hair mostly fallen out of the loose knot it had been tied up in the night before. His eyes were shut lightly and his breathing was quiet and even and Evan…

Evan couldn’t breathe right. 

Because he wasn’t awake. Because Connor was…

He was asleep. He was almost certainly asleep. 

He was okay and not in a coma and not dying. He was asleep and alive. 

He gently rested his hand against the back of Connor’s head, his fingers threading shakily into Connor’s hair, causing it to finally fall out of the knot. He was here. He was alive. He was real. He wasn’t in a coma, he was at home, he was with Evan. 

Connor stirred slightly. “What?” he mumbled sleepily, his eyes fluttering open. 

And Evan was able to breathe. 

“Nothing,” Evan said, his eyes tearing, the tears coming surprisingly fast, sliding down his cheek quickly. “Go back to sleep. I love you.”

“You’re… I’m wet,” Connor said, his eyes opening. His fingers reached for his forehead. “I’m wet.” He blinked a few times, his brow wrinkling in confusion. “You’re crying?”

“No,” Evan said, lied, whatever. “I’m fine. I’m fine.”

“What’s wrong?” Connor asked, shifting slightly. 

“Nothing,” Evan said. “Just go back to sleep, I love you. Okay? Just sleep?”

Connor frowned a little. Tilted his head slightly and kissed Evan. Softly. Gently. “Hey,” He said quietly. “Guess what?”

“What?” Evan said. 

“I love you.”

Evan felt his face split into a wide grin. “I love you too.”

“So tell me what’s wrong.”

Evan let out a sort of wet laugh, pressing a kiss to the top of Connor’s head. “I just… I really missed you?” He said. “I know it’s… really stupid. But I missed you. When you were out. I missed you.”

Connor’s eyes went big and he got this sort of haunted look. “I missed you too.”

“You were in a coma,” Evan said, confused. “How… Could you hear us? When we talked to you?”

Connor frowned. Shook his head slightly, then harder. “I… You talked to me?”

“Yeah,” Evan said, surprised Connor would even be asking. “Of course we did. Your mom read to you sometimes. Harry Potter. The first one. And I… I talked to you. A few times.”

“What about?” Connor asked. 

“Oh… M-mostly I just asked you to wake up.”

Connor nodded. 

“And you did,” Evan said, kissing Connor’s cheek. 

“Don’t ever… say I never did anything you asked,” Connor mumbled, sleepily. 

“I love you so much,” Evan said, laughing through more tears. “Best boyfriend ever.”

Connor’s eyes popped open. “No.”

“No?” Evan repeated. 

“No, I’m not. I’m not,” Connor said. “I’m not.”

“I love you,” Evan said, not wanting to argue with him.

Connor kissed him. It felt… something about it was a bit desperate, but Evan… needed it too. He kissed Connor back, slowly, gently, but more intimately than he had since Connor had woken up. 

“I love you,” Connor said back. 

“Go back to sleep,” Evan said, kissing him once more. “Sleep more. I’m okay.”

“You are?” Connor asked. 

“I am,” Evan said. 

* * *

Connor’s in his living room, curled up on the sofa under a pile of blankets with Edgar, watching reruns of Parks and Recreation while Evan works on his laptop next to him.

His mom and Zoe have gone shopping, for some reason, so it’s just him and Evan. 

It’s almost normal. Almost like how he might actually spend a weekend if things were normal. 

It makes something inside of him untwist, relax a little, because maybe things are starting to even out. Maybe things are starting to be okay. 

Evan’s completely engrossed in what he’s doing, and Connor finds himself watching his boyfriend more than the screen. 

There’s a part of him that still doesn’t believe he made it back. 

Back to the reality where Evan’s alive. 

It’s been months. He hadn’t seen Evan in months. 

Connor might have been in a coma in this reality for three weeks, but in the other reality, it was months. 

Late February to early July. 

He’d been in that other reality for four full months. 

That is, if he’d been in another reality at all. 

Connor’s… starting to doubt himself. 

Starting to doubt all of it. 

The more he thinks about it, the more he realizes how impossible it is. How completely, one hundred percent, totally ridiculous it is to even begin to believe that somehow, he’d been in another reality. 

Then again, dying over and over and over again… it’s impossible, too. 

And it happened. Not just to him but to Evan, too. 

Right?

Could he…

They haven’t talked about it since Connor got back. What happened to them, how they died and died and died. Not that they’re always talking about it, but there’s always that knowledge, that understanding, and now…

Connor finds himself wanting to ask Evan if it really happened. 

If he remembers how it felt to die and die and die.

He…

What the fuck, he can’t ask Evan that. 

Not now. 

Not after everything. 

What the fuck is wrong with him?

“Hey,” says Evan, his voice soft and questioning. He looks at Connor and frowns a little. Clearly, he’s caught Connor staring. 

“Hey,” Connor replies, trying for a smile. 

“You okay?”

“I’m fine,” Connor assures him. 

“You’re not in pain?” Evan asks, still frowning. “Not too sore? I can get you some more pain meds if you need them.”

“I’m okay,” Connor says, a little more firmly. “Just… thinking.”

“About what?” Evan asks, still with this searching look. 

“The bookstore,” Connor lies. “I’m trying to… figure out when I can go back.”

Evan looks at him for a long moment, still frowning, then nods. Closes his laptop. “Okay,” he says, focusing his attention on Connor. “I think… maybe you start small. Like, you start with admin, where you can be sitting down most of the time, and only a few hours a day. Maybe even just an hour to begin with. See how you go.”

Connor nods. “Yeah. That’s kind of what I was thinking.” He offers Evan a smile. “Maybe some time just sitting behind the counter? I just… I want to get things sorted out before Jax and Maureen go back to school in September. And Leslie’s still got her part-time barista job.”

“No she doesn’t,” Evan says, almost off-handedly. “She quit.”

Connor just stares at him for a moment. “She what?”

“When you got sick,” Evan explains. “She quit her barista job.”

“I didn’t know that,” says Connor, feeling… a little unsettled. “She just… she just quit her other job?”

Evan looks at Connor, his expression sad. “Yeah,” he says, his voice gentle. “The place changed hands at the beginning of the summer, and the new owners kept cutting her shifts anyway. So when you… when you didn’t...” Evan looks almost sick as he continues. “When you didn’t wake up, she quit. Said that The Little Book Nook was more important to her. They didn’t even make her work out a notice, just let her go immediately.”

“Fuck,” says Connor softly, more than a little overwhelmed. “I should… fuck, I should talk to her, I didn’t know, I… is she okay? Is she getting enough shifts?”

“She’s been working pretty much a forty hour week,” says Evan. “I did payroll when you were in the hospital.”

“You did?” Connor says, feeling his eyes start to sting. “Evan.”

Evan’s face has gone a little pink. “Well, yeah,” he says gently. “I didn’t… I didn’t want to let you down. The bookstore is important. The bookstore kids are important.”

Connor moves himself across the sofa as much as he can and reaches toward Evan, who meets him halfway, and pulls him into the tightest hug he can manage. “You’re amazing,” he murmurs in Evan’s ear. “Completely amazing, I love you so much.”

“Gladys helped,” Evan says, sounding embarrassed. “It wasn’t just me, I-”

Connor cuts him off with a kiss. “You helped keep my bookstore going,” he says when they pull apart.

“Of course I did,” Evan says quietly. “It’s yours.”

“I love you so fucking much.”

“It really wasn’t that big a-”

“I love you. So much.”

Evan sighs. Kisses Connor again. Then again. Then another time. 

“I love you, too.”


	50. FORTY-NINE

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> "I want to deserve someone as good as him.”

Connor and Zoe were taking turns playing with a laser pointer, getting Edgar to go on a wild red dot chase across the living room, both of them laughing a little as he frantically pounced and dove. 

Evan watched them, smiling. 

It was almost like normal. 

Almost. 

Cynthia was looking at Evan, he realized. Her eyebrows knit together, and she looked deep in thought. She looked a little like Connor, Evan realized, when she was thinking. It was the same look he got when he was reading something that required him to turn it over in his mind. The same look he got when he answered administrative emails or balanced the budget. When he was concentrating on something. Evan had teased him all through March as Connor that he was going to give himself wrinkles trying to file the tax return for the bookstore. 

“I’d look hot with wrinkles,” Connor had countered. 

“Gray hair too,” Evan said, smiling. They had made out then, the taxes well and truly ignored.

Evan snapped back to reality. 

Cynthia was still looking at him. Like he was a question she was trying to parse out. 

“Evan, can you come help me fix the curtain rod in the spare room?” She said suddenly. “I can’t quite reach it.”

Evan blinked a few times in surprise. “Oh. Of course.” 

He got up and followed her into the spare room. He could hear Zoe and Connor giggling over Edgar’s antics. In the spare room, Evan saw no discernable issue with the curtain rod. “Uh,” he said, turning to look at her, feeling a little bit trapped. “Cynthia… I. Is something wrong or…?”

“I haven’t been fair to you,” Cynthia said, still looking thoughtful. 

Evan opened his mouth to respond but he found that he had no words. He… he didn’t think Cynthia had been unfair to him. If anything, she had been… exceedingly fair and decent and patient with his bullshit so far and he was… grateful. 

For her sticking around. 

For her not telling him to stay the hell away from her son. 

“No,” Evan said. “That’s not… You’ve been.” The words weren’t coming out right. Evan took a deep breath. “Cynthia. You have been… unbelievably patient and kind to me through everything. And I am… I am so sorry. I wasn’t fair to  _ you _ . I was absent and selfish and I was not… I wasn’t good. I should have been better. And I am so, genuinely sorry for how I behaved.” 

Cynthia smiled at Evan sadly. “I know how hard this was for you…”

Evan shook his head. As if he had cornered the market on grief about Connor almost dying. As if his feelings somehow outranked hers and her family’s feelings. She was being extremely kind. “It wasn’t any easier for you or Zoe or Larry. Or… or Connor. And I am so sorry for everything.” 

She smiled at Evan, and then her eyes flooded. “Thank you. For saying that.” She pressed a hand to her lips. “We almost lost him.”

Evan swallowed hard, his own eyes tearing. “I know.” He shook his head. “I am… I am terrified. All of the time that we still might.”

She nodded. “Me too,” Cynthia said. “Every time he looks tired…”

Evan nodded back. He cleared his throat. “I… Sometimes I’ll wake up in the middle of the night and just watch him sleep? And part of me wants to wake him up, just to make sure that he can… But I don’t. Because I know he needs rest, I know he’s healing. But I’ll watch him sleep. For hours, I’ll watch him sleep.”

Cynthia took his hand and squeezed it. “I completely understand.” She smiled slightly. 

“I just love him so much?” Evan said softly. “And I am so sorry that the way I acted didn’t show that. I am so sorry. I love him more than anything, and he deserves so much better than what I was giving. He… Connor deserves everything. He deserves the world, and I… All I want is to deserve him, you know? Because I love him so much. I want to deserve someone as good as him.” He cleared his throat, wiping his eyes. “Sorry, I… I’m sorry. I know that you’re here because I was falling apart, and I know that you don’t trust me to take care of him. And I do not blame you. I have not demonstrated that I deserve him. But… Cynthia, you have to believe me when I say I want to. I want more than anything to be the kind of man who deserves someone as amazing as Connor.”

Cynthia squeezed his hand again. “I wasn’t being fair to you.”

“You were actually probably being too kind?” Evan said with a sort of half-laugh. 

She shook her head. “I wasn’t being fair to you.” Cynthia patted Evan’s cheek. “You’re a good man, Evan. And you’re Connor’s partner. And you’re both adults. I need to trust that you will do right by him.”

Evan nodded. “I will do my very best. I will do my best to do right by him, to-to take care of him. I swear.” 

Cynthia smiled. “You’re a good man, Evan, and you love him.” She patted his cheek softly. 

Swept out of the room. 

Evan sucked in a shuddering breath. Wiped his eyes again. 

Because he realized there was someone else he needed to apologize to. Someone he desperately needed to apologize to… 

Zoe had deserved better than he’d given her when Connor was sick. When Connor was… 

Dying.

After Evan and the Murphys all finished eating dinner, Evan asked Zoe if she would come for a walk with him. 

“Yeah…” Zoe said. She was eyeing him strangely, like he’d asked her to go to the dentist or something very unusual. “I guess, sure.”

Connor looked at Evan strangely too. An almost identical expression. Evan leaned over and kissed him softly. “I’ll be back soon, promise. I love you.”

“I love you.”

Zoe and Evan stepped out into the early evening sun. They started off down the block, heading away from the bookstore and generally in the direction of Evan’s apartment. Evan debated where the best place to start would be. 

“What’s up?” Zoe said. She looked a bit anxious. 

Evan sucked in a deep breath. “I wanted to apologize to you, Zoe.”

Zoe stopped. “What?”

“I was… I was a fucking mess,” He said. “Well. I still am, but I am trying to be better. I know I… I really fucked up. I really fucked up when Connor was in the hospital. I left you alone to make those decisions and I’m… I’m so fucking sorry. I know you needed me and I fucked up.”

“It was a hard time,” Zoe said quietly. “I understand, it wasn’t like… I understand.”

“But I acted like… like I was the only one who was going through it. I was so selfish, and I’m sorry. I’m really fucking sorry.”

Zoe’s mouth twisted, and she looked like she was going to retort sarcastically, but instead she nodded, her eyes bright. 

“And… about the will…”

Zoe flinched. 

“I am so sorry,” Evan said, and his voice wavered but he pushed through. “I’m sorry that I sprung it on you like that. I should have made sure you knew as soon as he signed it, I…I fucked up.” Evan swallowed hard. “I’m the reason he put the directives in, about no extraordinary measures and not keeping him on life support. I was the one who, like, told him how to set that up. I set it up, I wrote those directives myself, I. Fuck, I pushed him into having a will at all… And I am so fucking sorry I put you in a place where you had to make that call, because that was on me, I’m… I wrote it up, I had him sign it, I wasn’t thinking I wasn’t-”  
Zoe pulled him into a sudden and tight hug. 

Evan just barely managed to hold himself together, to keep himself from being obnoxious and loud. He started to cry against her shoulder. “I fucked it all up,” He said, his voice brittle, quiet.

“It wasn’t your fault,” Zoe said. “It was an impossible situation… we had no way of knowing. You had no way of knowing when he wrote that what could happen. People don’t have their appendix out and just not wake up, you know? You couldn’t have known. You were just trying to do your job.”

“I’m just… I’m really sorry? About everything, truly, I am so fucking sorry I left that all to you, that I was… a mess, a drunk asshole, I -”

“It’s okay,” Zoe said with a watery smile. “The important thing is that he’s alive, you know? He’s alive and you’re here now.”

Evan nodded. “I know. But that doesn’t… It doesn’t undo what I did, and I want to hold myself accountable. To him… and his people. And you’re his people so… I’m really sorry.”

“You’re his people too,” Zoe said. “We’re practically already family. We fuck up and family… forgives. So you’re okay. We’re okay.”

Evan nodded. Wiped his eyes. 

“Maybe now isn’t the time to say something,” Zoe said, her eyes soft and concerned. “But do you… do you always cry like that?”

“What?” Evan stared at her, unsure what she was saying. “I don’t… like what?”

“So quietly,” Zoe said, trying to smile at him. “Just… I wouldn’t have even known if I wasn’t paying attention. If you were one of my clients I’d be calling CPS.”

“I…” Evan’s voice died, and he felt called out, he felt trapped his heart started to race, his hands shook. “Why? What’s wrong with being quiet?”

“Big emotions are supposed to… be big. Loud, messy, you know? Kids cry to get attention, to get people to pay attention to whatever they might be feeling. That doesn’t go away as we get older, we just learn to be embarrassed about it. I guess. It kinda… it worries me a bit that...”

Evan looked at Zoe helplessly. 

“You shouldn’t feel like you need to hide your feelings away,” She said finally. 

“I’ve been on like… a month-long crying parade,” Evan joked. “I’m not hiding anything.”

“But… unless someone was looking right at you, they’d never know and I…” Zoe shook her head. “It’s. Sorry. I made it weird. I’m still getting used to being back at work and I’m putting on my therapy hat when I shouldn’t. Sorry.”

Evan watched her for a moment. “What would you tell a kid? If they were… like me?”  
Zoe looked at him, her face sad. “I would say that it seemed like they were really hurting, and that it was okay if they needed to let it out. And then I’d… probably let them yell or scream or… whatever they needed. I’d let them know I saw it and I was there.” Zoe linked her arm through Evan’s. “You know I’m here for you too, right?”

“I know,” He said.

“Want to bring back ice cream?” Zoe said suddenly. “I could really use some ice cream.”

“Maybe none for Connor,” Evan said softly. “Since he’s so cold all the time? We should… get him something warm, instead?”

Zoe smiled. “This is why mom is suddenly okay with leaving,” She said. “You’re very good.”

* * *

Connor’s mom flies home almost two weeks after he gets home from the hospital. It’s surprisingly sudden. One day she’s going about things as normal, the next she says she’s booked a flight in two days. 

“I’ll come back in a heartbeat if you need me,” she’d said, stroking his hair. “I promise, sweetheart. But I know how much you want things to go back to normal, and that’s… that’s hard, when you’ve got your old mom just hovering around.”

“You’re not old,” Connor had said, rolling his eyes. “But… yeah?” He’d felt his face color. “It’s not that I don’t like having you here, it’s just… I’m doing so much better, and I’ve disrupted your life enough. You should get home. Get back to normal for your sake, too.”

“You are never a disruption,” said his mom, her voice fierce. “You’re my son. I love you so, so much.”

“I know,” Connor replied, kissing her on the cheek. “I love you too. I… I couldn’t have done this without you. You and Dad and Heidi and Zoe.”

“And Evan,” his mom said gently. “He… I know it’s been hard on him, and that your father and I were… cautious. But he’s… you’re adults, and he’s your partner. And he wants to take care of you. So we have to trust him to do that.”

“I love him so much,” Connor had said then, because it was true and it needed saying. It always needed saying. “And he loves me, he…”

“I know he does,” his mom had replied, her voice so soft. “That kind of love… it’s not something to take lightly.”

Connor had been tempted to ask what the actual fuck was going on between his parents, right there and then, but it had seemed like far too difficult a conversation, so he’d let it go. 

Zoe sees their mom off at the airport, but Connor manages to walk outside the bookstore for the first time to walk her to the cab. It feels like a victory, and as the cab with his mom in it drives away, he stands and waves until it disappears with Evan at his side. 

Then he walks back inside and up the stairs, unassisted, and even pours himself a glass of water from the sink. Evan watches carefully, looking like he’s ready to jump in at any moment, but Connor manages it.

He manages it. 

Things are starting to get back to normal. 


	51. FIFTY

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> “I missed you. I just really missed you.”

Sabrina and Graham are getting married this weekend. 

Connor doesn’t realize it’s that close until Evan mentions it one night when they’re eating Chinese food, curled up on the sofa. 

“We don’t have to stay at the reception long,” he says, his voice hesitant. “But we… we should go.” He gives Connor this lopsided grin. “Sabrina would kill me if I missed it. And I know you and Graham are friends.”

“We are,” Connor says, nodding. “I… yeah, we should go.” He smiles. “I, uh, my mom helped me pick out a new suit for the wedding. I figured I should actually have a suit sometimes, you know? Considering how much of a hotshot you are these days. Don’t want to embarrass you with my hoboness in front of all your fancy law contacts.”

He’s expecting a smile, but instead, Evan looks absolutely distraught. Connor feels something inside him flip uncomfortably. 

“What’s wrong?”

Evan bites his lip. “Your mom wanted to bury you in that suit,” he says quietly. 

Connor feels cold. 

“Fuck.”

Evan looks… torn, confused. He tries to smile. “I mean, you can-”

“I won’t wear it.”

“You won’t?” asks Evan, his voice small. 

Connor shakes his head. “I won’t. I’ll… I’ll take it back, I’ll sell it, I’ll… I’ll give it a homeless person for job interviews but I won’t… I won’t wear it, okay? Because I’m not… you’re not burying me, you’re  _ not, _ I’m here. I’m alive.”

He grabs Evan’s hand and squeezes it. Presses a kiss to his knuckles. 

Evan’s eyes fill with tears. “I love you.”

“I love you so fucking much,” Connor says fiercely, looking at Evan directly, looking right at him. 

_ I love you so much I ripped apart the universe,  _ he wants to say. 

_ I love you so much I fought my way back from another reality,  _ he wants to say. 

_ I love you so much. I love you so, so much.  _

* * *

Evan sat in the living room while Connor napped in the bedroom, working through some emails. Connor had had physical therapy for a few hours and he was tired after, so Evan had sent him off to bed once they got home. 

His phone rang. Evan answered it when he saw it was Sabrina calling. “Hello?”

“Hey,” Sabrina said. “How’s Connor doing?”  
Evan recapped his latest progress, smiling a bit. Maybe things were actually really looking up for them. 

“That’s great,” Sabrina said, and Evan could almost hear her smile. “So, listen, you’re going to be sitting at a table with some high school folks at the wedding.”  
“Oh,” Evan said, a bit surprised. “Who from high school did you invite?”

“Oh, Clarke, Siobhan, and Alana. Alana’s bringing her girlfriend. Did you hear she’s on city council now?”

“Yeah,” Evan said. He’d voted for her. “That should be fine.”

“I should warn you… some people back home heard about Connor being sick,” Sabrina said. “Just so you’re not blindsided if people start asking questions.”

Evan frowned. “Okay. Good to know.”

“Look I… Are you and I okay?” Sabrina asked. 

Evan felt his stomach drop. “Yeah. Of course.” 

“Just I know you were sort of mad at me when Connor was in the hospital.”

“Sabrina,” Evan said. “I’m so sorry. I was an ass. I’m not mad at you.” He laughed a little. “This is your big day, you don’t need to worry about me. Promise.”

Sabrina laughed a little. “I need to go soon,” She said. “Tabby and Sam and I are having a little girl’s night?” She said. 

“Sounds nice,” Evan said. 

“Mostly it’s just going to be me getting my henna done,” Sabrina said. “Did I tell you Tabby’s actually doing it? She’s kind of amazing at it.”

“I’m excited to see it,” Evan said. “I… Honestly I’m just excited? We’re all looking forward to it.”

“Good. I paid a lot of fucking money for you people to have a nice time,” Sabrina said. “Who is Mariah by the way? I texted Zoe for the name of her plus one.”

Evan smiled. “Mariah’s my work wife.”

“That Mariah?” Sabrina said, laughing. “How did that happen?”

Evan laughed back. “I set them up like a year ago? I never thought it went anywhere but… I guess they’re going to your wedding together.”   


“Huh,” Sabrina said, sounding surprised. 

“You get your hands painted,” Evan said. “You’re stalling.”   


“It’s just… It’s actually happening, you know?”

“I know,” Evan said, “I’m so happy for you.”

He hung up with Sabrina, then went to go check on Connor. He’d been sleeping for about two hours and would probably need to be woken up to eat something. Martha and Gladys had dropped off a lot of meals in the last few days, which Evan appreciated because he was completely useless in the kitchen. He currently had some vegetable thing or another in the slow cooker, the extent of his cooking skills. 

“Hey,” He said softly to Connor, who was sleeping curled on his side with Edgar loafing on his hip. Evan leaned in and kissed Connor softly, and he opened his eyes. 

“Hey,” Connor said sleepily. 

“Wanna eat something soon?”

Connor nodded, but then he gripped Evan’s t-shirt a little harder, pulling him in for another kiss. He kissed Evan slowly and deliberately and Evan sunk into it, wrapping his arms around Connor and disturbing Edgar in the process. Connor giggled a little, saying, “Sorry dude,” before he turned back to Evan and kissed him again, harder this time. 

Evan wanted to pull Connor in tightly but he couldn’t let himself lose control like that. He just kissed him back, gently running his fingers through Connor’s hair, and Connor sighed softly. His mouth was soft, pliant against Evan’s, lips parted, breathing getting a little heavier as they kissed. 

Evan had really missed this. 

But he needed to keep his head together. Connor wasn’t well enough to take things past making out. 

Connor pulled away from Evan’s mouth and then he was placing soft kisses along his jaw and then his neck, down to his collarbone and Evan sighed, letting him for a moment, then turning his face to capture Connor’s lips with his again. 

They made out for a little while, and then Connor curled up close to Evan, his head on Evan’s chest. Evan wrapped his arms around him, smiling. Connor actually felt almost warm today. 

“What was that all about?” Evan asked him after they’d caught their breath and lay there for a little bit. 

“I just missed you,” Connor said, sounding earnest and genuine. 

“I was just in the next room.”

“I missed you,” Connor said again. “I just really missed you.”

* * *

Zoe, it seems, has similar feelings about the suit Connor was nearly buried in. During the week before the wedding, while Evan’s meeting a client, she picks up the suit and returns it to the store and shows up at Connor’s apartment maybe an hour and a half later with another one. 

Connor has to admit, it’s nice. It’s a charcoal color that’s almost a little blue. Slim-fit, three-piece. Zoe’s picked out a shirt to go with it and orders Connor to go try it on. 

“I also got you this,” she says, handing him a long-sleeved t-shirt. “For underneath the shirt. Since you’ve been so cold, I figured you should layer up.”

He heads into the bedroom and changes carefully, pleased to find that his limbs seem to be cooperating with him a lot more. He takes a moment to look at himself in the mirror before going back out to show Zoe. 

It’s still a little jarring to see how thin he is, but there’s progress. He can see that he’s put on some weight, enough that it makes at least a little bit of a difference. Connor grabs a hairbrush and pulls his hair back into a bun, as neatly as he can manage, then examines his appearance appraisingly. 

It’s…

Well, it’s not bad, he has to admit. 

Zoe’s done well with the suit sizing. 

There’s a knock on the door. “You decent?” Zoe calls out. 

“Yeah,” he says, and she opens the door and comes inside. Connor turns to see that she’s smiling when she looks at him, nodding approvingly. 

“Nice,” she says, her voice warm. “Okay, now we’ve got to figure out what’s going on with a tie.”

“I don’t want to wear a tie,” Connor says immediately. 

Zoe kind of scrunches up her nose, then rolls her eyes. “I fucking knew you’d say that,” she mumbles, then goes searching through the bag she’s got with her. 

In the end, he relents to wearing a pocket square, giving the whole thing a put-together and formal look without him having to wear a tie. She does have a matching tie, which she says he should keep, in case he changes his mind. 

“Or Evan could wear it,” she points out with a smile. “That would be so stinking cute, him wearing a tie that matches your pocket square.”

“If you say so,” Connor says, but the tie is a deep blue and he’s sure Evan would look great in it. 

“I’m taking a photo for Mom,” Zoe announces, and pulls out her phone. 

Connor rolls his eyes, but smiles for the photo, and Zoe shows him the result, and…

He looks… almost normal, he thinks. 

Almost like a real fucking person. 

His cheekbones are ridiculously sharp and he still looks tired, he’s still too pale, but compared to the walking corpse he’s been in the last few weeks, it’s an improvement. 

A genuine improvement. 

Zoe smiles. “I’m sending it to Heidi as well,” she announces. “Ten bucks says she comes back with a message telling me to tell you how handsome you look.”

Connor sticks his tongue out at her. She grins at him. 

Barely thirty seconds later, Zoe’s phone dings, and she crows triumphantly, turning the phone around so he can see the message from Heidi. 

**So handsome! Give him my love xx**

“You’re in with the future mother-in-law,” Zoe says gleefully. “Nicely played.”

Before he can reply, she reaches out and pulls Connor into a tight hug. Connor pulls her close and kisses her on the top of her head. 

“Thanks for this, Zo,” he says quietly. “I like it. It looks good.”

“You’re still too thin,” Zoe says, a little sadly, “but you do look good.” When she finally pulls away, she beams at him and kisses him on the cheek. “Want me to send that photo to your boyfriend?”

Connor thinks for a moment. “No, I think I want him to see it in person,” he says with a smile. “I think he’ll like it.”

“I think so, too.” Zoe kisses him on the cheek again, then grabs his hand and squeezes it. She’s much more tactile these days, Connor notices, but he doesn’t mind. He knows what it’s like to want to be sure that the people you care about are still real. “It’s going to be fun,” she says determinedly. “Sabrina and Graham’s wedding is going to be fun, we deserve to have some fun.”

“You flying solo?” Connor asks, and Zoe shakes her head. 

“Actually,” she says, in this almost deliberately casual tone, “I’m taking Mariah.”

Connor raises his eyebrows. “Mariah, huh? I didn’t know that was a thing.”

Zoe’s cheeks go a little pink. “It’s… it’s not  _ not _ a thing,” she says, her voice cautious. “We get along really well but we both have very demanding careers, so that comes first, you know? So we’re not… we’re not labelling it anything official.” Zoe chuckles a little bit. “I remember when Evan first tried to set us up, it took literal months for us to lock down a time to meet up. But we hung out at Alex and Mattie’s New Year’s party and it was nice, so since then, we've just been… seeing how it goes.”

“It all sounds very mature and responsible,” says Connor, trying not to grin too widely. Honestly, he thinks it’s fucking fantastic. Mariah’s great and he knows how close she and Evan are. “Maybe the four of us should grab a drink together sometime.”

Zoe smiles wide. “Yeah,” she says with a nod. “Maybe we should.”

It feels good, making plans for the future, Connor thinks. 

Making plans for things to be okay. 


	52. FIFTY-ONE

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> "I love you. I'm staying right here."

“Am I allowed to open my eyes yet?” Evan asked, smiling a little. Connor insisted Evan close his eyes while he got changed into the clothes he was going to wear to the wedding. 

“No, not yet,” Connor said, and Evan could hear him muttering. “Whoever designed buttons is an asshole.”

“So there are buttons?” Evan said, about to peek. 

“No looking!” Connor said. 

Evan sighed, his eyes still closed. “Are you sure you don’t need help?”

“I do not need help,” Connor said, sounding a little frustrated. Another moment passed. “Okay. You can open your eyes.”

Evan opened his eyes. It took a second for his eyes to adjust to the light. 

Evan felt his face break out into a huge grin. 

“You look amazing!” Evan said, smiling so hard his face hurt. 

Connor really did look amazing. Really amazing. Still too thin, still a bit too pale, but so much better than he had looked in the last month or so. His hair was pulled back in neat bun. The suit fit him really well. And the color was gorgeous. 

Connor was gorgeous. 

“You think?” Connor said, his cheeks turning a little pink. 

“Yeah, oh my god,” Evan said, and he pulled Connor in for a kiss. Connor responded enthusiastically, kissing Evan back and looping his arms around Evan. They made out for a while, and Evan broke away smiling so hard his jaw ached a little. 

“You look gorgeous,” Evan said softly, kissing the side of Connor’s head. “I feel a little underdressed,” he joked. He was still in his sweats. He had showered and shaved already, but he had changed back into sweats while they were just hanging around the apartment. 

“I think you look pretty cute like that,” Connor said, smirking a bit. “The sweat pants make your butt look nice.”

“You’re looking at my butt?” Evan said, smiling. 

“Oh yeah,” Connor said. “Definitely looking at your butt.”

Evan just had to kiss him again. Again and again. Until Connor’s cheeks were pink and he was smiling and then he playfully swatted at Evan’s ass. “Go get dressed or we’ll be late.”

“Fine,” Evan said, kissing Connor one more time. 

“Wait… I have something for you,” Connor said. He went into his bedroom and pulled a deep blue tie off of a hanger. “I think… this would look nice on you.” 

Evan smiled widely. “It matches your pocket square,” Evan said, and he laughed delightedly. Happy. “You want me to wear this?”

“If it’s not too weird?”

Evan kissed him again. 

“I’ll just,” He smiled. “I’m just going to get changed?”

Connor nodded. Evan kissed him again, then headed off to the bathroom with his suit. He just felt a little odd about changing in front of Connor right now. Which was silly, because a lot of the time they were showering together so it wasn’t like they weren’t seeing each other naked. 

But it felt like. Like Evan should change in another room. 

He took a few minutes to fix his hair, putting some product in his hair, until it looked neat and laid nicely. 

He changed into his suit. 

There was something about it, putting on a suit. Like putting on a costume. Armor. Something about it that instantly made Evan feel more confident, more sure of himself. In a suit, he knew exactly who he was. 

He buttoned his collar, did up the cuffs on his shirt. He tucked his shirt in, buckled his belt. Evan turned his collar up. He looped the blue tie Connor had given him around his neck. Knotted the tie at his throat. Straightened the knot. Fixed his collar. Pulled on his jacket. 

He looked pretty good, Evan thought. 

He gave himself one final once over, then he stepped out of the bathroom. Connor was sitting in the kitchen, and he looked up and smiled brightly. 

“Look at you,” He said with a grin. “Looking sharp.”

“Thanks,” Evan said softly, smiling. 

Connor got up. Gave Evan’s tie a gentle tug. “You’re like. Really hot. You got a boyfriend?”

“Yeah, sorry,” Evan said with this massive smile. “I’ve got this amazing boyfriend actually? He’s brilliant and really kind and stupidly beautiful and owns a bookstore.”

“Oh shit really?” Connor said. “How’s a guy supposed to compete with a bookstore?”

“Don’t think you can, sorry,” Evan said. 

Connor smiled down at him, pulling on his tie until their lips touched. “We’re going to be late if we don’t leave soon.”

“We can be a couple of minutes late,” Evan said. 

“Sabrina will kill you,” Connor said, pulling away. 

“Worth it,” Evan said kissing Connor again, longer this time, his tongue sweeping along Connor’s bottom lip, tasting him slowly. Connor pulled Evan closer, still holding onto his tie, smiling against Evan’s mouth, and they pulled apart, breathless. 

“We need to go,” Connor said reluctantly. 

“Fine,” Evan said. “To be continued?”

“Oh absolutely.” Connor said with a wink. “Continued and continued.” He pulled Evan’s tie and gave him one more, somewhat chaste kiss.

He started heading toward the stairs. 

“Tease!” Evan said with a laugh. 

“Love you too!” Connor said. 

* * *

Evan puts his hand on Connor’s thigh in the cab on the way to the wedding and doesn’t move it the entire ride. 

It’s deliciously distracting. Connor has half a mind to just start kissing with Evan in the back of this cab, putting his hands all over him, because holy shit, he looks amazing in that suit, and Connor loves that he’s wearing the tie that matches his pocket square because it looks so good on him and it’s nice, knowing that they kind of match, knowing that they look like they’re together. 

When they get to the hall, Evan helps Connor out of the cab and Connor wants to protest but Evan’s making this big show of holding the door for him like a gentleman and it’s so fucking cute that he has to kiss him, right there in front of the venue where Sabrina and Graham are about to get married in… 

Five minutes. 

Right, okay. 

They head into the hall and Connor spots Zoe and Mariah. Zoe’s in a dress that’s this sunflower yellow color and her hair is curled and cascading over her shoulders and she looks young and carefree and beautiful. Zoe waves them over and he and Evan slip into the seats that have been saved for them. 

Mariah’s in this emerald green dress that looks kind of vintage. She smiles at Connor, but her eyes widen a little, and it occurs to Connor that they haven’t actually spoken in a while. He knows that she visited while he was in hospital, while he was out, but he hasn’t seen her since. 

He didn’t see her in the other reality, either, so really, it’s been fucking months. 

“Took you long enough,” says Zoe, squeezing Connor’s hand and resting her head on his shoulder for a moment. “Sabrina would have killed you if you’d been late for her wedding.”

“I’m sure she wouldn’t dare risk getting blood on a white dress,” Connor points out. 

Zoe shakes her head. “She’s wearing red. You’re shit out of luck.”

Connor looks to the front of the room to see Graham standing there. He’s in a dark gray suit that fits him well with a tie that’s patterned red and gold, along with a matching pocket square. Connor assumes it’s to match the dress. 

He smiles when he sees Connor, this big wide smile that makes it seem like he’s really pleased to see him. 

Connor grins back. 

It’s good to be here. 

The ceremony starts and it’s unlike any wedding Connor’s ever been to. He watches the whole thing in utter fascination. They’ve clearly worked hard to make an event that incorporates both Indian and western traditions and it’s all stunningly beautiful, bursting with color and joy, and it makes something inside Connor twist happily. 

Sabrina looks incredible, all decked out in red and gold, and Connor likes watching the look on Graham’s face as she walks toward him. He looks completely overwhelmed, completely lovestruck, and it’s just…

Fuck, it’s all just really beautiful. 

Connor’s getting sentimental in his old age, fuck. 

Sabrina’s sisters are bridesmaids. Connor doesn’t really know them but they look like Sabrina. Now that he thinks about it, he met Tabby one time she came to New York to visit Sabrina and Graham. They’d ended up inviting Evan and Connor along with them to a comedy show. 

It feels like a million years ago but it can’t have been any earlier than May of this year. Shit. 

Connor doesn’t recognize the groomsmen, but he does notice a sign language interpreter near the front and remembers Graham telling him that his best friend Josh is Deaf, so he’d learned ASL when he was young. Connor watches a bit more carefully and places that yes, one of the groomsmen is indeed watching the interpreter, so that must be Josh. 

When Sabrina and Graham are officially pronounced husband and wife and share their first kiss, Connor is dimly aware that his cheeks are wet, that he’s actually fucking crying at a wedding like a total sap. 

Mariah hands him a Kleenex with a soft smile and he wipes his face. Evan kisses him on the cheek and Connor kisses him back, taking his hand and squeezing it tight. 

It’s just…

It’s amazing. 

It’s amazing to even be here, it’s amazing to be alive, and Connor never wants to be someone who takes it for granted. Takes having a functioning body for granted, takes any of this for granted. 

Here, watching his friends profess their love for each other in front of people they care about, Connor’s kind of fucking overwhelmed with how great it is. 

How great it is that he made it back. That he’s back where he belongs. 

He wants this one day, he thinks to himself as Evan squeezes his hand. He wants this with Evan. 

No one else. 

He doesn’t want anyone else. 

* * *

Everyone looked at them when they walked in, which Evan hadn’t prepared for. Everyone. Heads turned, eyes bugged. 

Fuck. 

Evan hadn’t realized… 

Connor looked. So much better than he had. 

But. 

In the light of day, outside of the cocoon of Connor’s apartment he was still too thin. Too pale. He had huge dark circles under his eyes and Evan hated the way people were looking at them. 

Connor seemed to notice all of the eyes on them, but he didn’t say anything. But Evan didn’t miss the sag of his shoulders. He didn’t miss the way his smile drooped a little. 

“Hey,” he said quietly. “I love you.”

Connor looked up at him and smiled a little. “I love you.”

The ceremony was beautiful, really. 

Sabrina looked frankly gorgeous. 

It was weird, really, Evan thought. Watching her marry someone else. Watching the way she was happy and laughing and smiling so hard her eyes were practically closed. 

They had talked about it. Evan and Sabrina. When they lived together. The possibility of marriage, someday. 

Evan had been distracted, ambivalent, treated it like something he’d just… get to when he was more settled. 

So it was weird. 

It was weird, watching his ex girlfriend marry someone else and not feeling even the slightest amount of regret. She was happy. She was so happy and Evan was so happy for her. 

Connor had teared up. 

_Sap_ , Evan thought to himself, smiling a little Mariah handed Connor a tissue and he wiped his eyes. Evan kissed him on the cheek, took his hand and squeezed it tightly. 

Evan was happy for Sabrina, but he thought he was happier for himself. Because he had no regrets watching Sabrina get married to Graham. 

Because she was happy, and so was Evan. 

Evan was happy with Connor. 

Connor, beautiful and crying and so fucking alive. Connor who made Evan’s heart do backflips with just a smile. Connor who was everything to Evan. Everything. 

Just everything. 

Evan loved Connor more than he could put into words. And he’d almost lost him. He’d nearly lost him but he hadn’t. They had gotten lucky. So lucky. And Connor was alive and he was here and Evan was going to spend the rest of his life with him. He was going to spend every single day with Connor until he died, he knew that. 

He knew in his core that Connor was the only person he wanted. The only person. 

Evan was going to marry him, he realized suddenly. 

Not right away. He didn’t want to ask and have seem like it was all post-coma panic. But he knew it. He was going to marry Connor. He wanted to marry Connor. He wanted to put their names together on paper and make it official and proper and legal. He wanted to be able to call Connor his husband. 

Fuck he wanted that more than he expected. 

He couldn’t believe that less than a month after he thought he’d have to say goodbye to Connor forever that they had an entire future stretching out in front of them. That they would get to have time together. Years, hopefully decades. 

Evan wanted that so much he felt himself tearing up. He kissed the side of Connor’s head. Squeezed his hand tightly again. 

“Hey,” He said softly to Connor. 

“Hmm?”

“I love you,” Evan said, trying to put weight into the words. “Don’t go anywhere on me okay?”

Connor looked at Evan with wide, almost scared eyes. “I love you,” He said back quietly. “I’m staying right here.”


	53. FIFTY-TWO

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> “I am trying to make it through dinner without yelling at anybody."

When the four of them take their seats at their assigned table for the reception, Connor sees immediately that Alana Beck is already there. She looks good, he thinks to himself. Her hair is in braids, all pinned up on top of her head in this elaborate bun that looks really great on her. She’s sitting with a dark-haired Latina who Connor recognizes. 

Marisol, he sees written on the table setting. 

There’s this weird buzzing in the air. He… he remembers Marisol, but not because he was ever introduced, he…

She was at his funeral. 

In his dream. 

This woman was at his dream funeral. 

What the fuck. 

Alana’s eyes widen when she sees them and Connor notices uncomfortably that she looks genuinely stricken at the sight of him. She and Marisol exchange a quick glance, then Alana’s face breaks into that megawatt, professional smile Connor remembers from high school. She stands up and pulls Connor into a careful hug. 

“Connor, it’s so good to see you,” she says, her voice sincere. “We heard about your illness, it’s amazing that you made it out tonight.” Her voice falters. “You look good.”

Connor is struck with the uncomfortable realization that she’s lying. 

All the confidence he felt before leaving the house just… dissolves, rushes out like a deflating balloon. 

He’d thought he looked better. Better than he did. And maybe he does, but that doesn’t mean that he’s not still…

Still basically a walking corpse. Fuck. 

“Alana’s told me so much about you,” says Marisol, Marisol who Connor has not ever met but still looks familiar. She smiles. “I’m Marisol.”

Connor turns to Evan, who looks like he’s trying to place Marisol as well. 

Which is…

Why would he…

“I think we’ve met before,” Evan says after a moment. “Are you a nurse? I think you treated me in January. I had walking pneumonia.” 

Marisol’s eyes light up. “Yes!” she says, smiling wider. “Small world, huh?”

Something inside Connor’s chest untwists a little. 

Okay. 

There’s a logical reason for why he recognizes this woman, okay. He remembers seeing her at the clinic now, remembers Evan making an offhand comment about the nurse being Alana’s girlfriend, it all makes sense, this makes sense, this isn’t terrifying at all. 

Zoe introduces Mariah and they all sit down. A few minutes later, they’re joined by two women who Connor very, very vaguely remembers from high school. The table setting says they’re Clarke and Siobhan and even though Connor doesn’t really remember them, they clearly remember Connor, and neither of them can hide their shock at the sight of him. 

Fuck. 

Fuck. 

This is… fuck, Connor really fucking hates this, he hates it a lot. He looks over to Evan, who looks pained, who’s blinking a lot, like he might cry at any moment, and reaches out to grab his hand. 

Evan squeezes Connor’s hand tightly and offers him a smile. Kisses his cheek. 

Connor feels better for a second, maybe two. 

“It really is so good to see you,” Alana says, directing all of her attention on Connor, which he immediately hates. “After everything you’ve been through.”

Marisol frowns. “From what Alana told me, the original problem was appendicitis?” she asks, definite confusion in her voice. “There was a burst appendix and a bad infection and then a coma for three weeks?”

“Yeah,” Connor manages to say. “It, uh… the doctors still aren’t really sure exactly what happened.”

“I heard they were moments from taking you off life support when you woke up,” Alana says, looking at him intently. “Is that true?”

Zoe looks alarmed. “This might not be the best-”

“You were on life support because you weren’t breathing on your own,” Alana continues, and Connor really wants to know where the fuck she heard all of this, because Jesus fucking Christ she’s well informed. “I have some contacts in that hospital, everyone’s talking about it, the whole case is a complete medical mystery. There’s no possible way you should have woken up, no medical explanation for it at all.” She turns to her girlfriend. “Right, babe? That’s what you said, that it doesn’t make any sense.”

Marisol looks like a deer in the headlights. “It’s… unusual,” she says diplomatically. “It’s not something I’ve ever heard of happening before.”

“Something must have caused it,” says Alana intently, like she’s trying to solve the mystery, like she’s decided that her mission is to uncover a logical fucking explanation for something that a hospital full of doctors can’t figure out. “Have you traveled recently? Could there have been some kind of virus?”

“I don’t really travel,” Connor says awkwardly. “I haven’t left the city in over a year.”

“You own a bookstore, right?” Alana continues, looking thoughtful. “Maybe someone who travelled recently showed up with some kind of illness and you caught it, somehow. There could have been some kind of connection between the illness and you having appendicitis that reacted badly and caused you to go downhill so fast.” She frowns. “They had to restart your heart, isn’t that right? And then you stopped breathing. That’s serious, that’s got nothing to do with an appendectomy. And if you weren’t breathing on your own, waking up suddenly is highly unusual.”

“Babe,” says Marisol quietly, taking Alana’s hand. “This is a party. Maybe we should talk about something else.”

Alana ignores her. “What I found the most fascinating but inexplicable was that when you woke up, you were hypothermic and they struggled to get your temperature back up. If you’re in a hospital there’s no way you should be hypothermic, it doesn’t make any sense. There’s clearly something else going on. Some other cause for this. I think there should be some kind of investigation into what happened to you, for the sake of the community.”

“Alana-”

“People should be able to trust that when they go to a hospital for a routine surgery, everything will turn out fine,” she says, and she’s definitely on a roll now. “People falling into comas after an appendectomy is not normal and it needs to be investigated, otherwise public opinion of the healthcare system could be seriously affected. As a member of the city council-”

“There’s an open bar,” Evan says suddenly, his face so pale it’s almost gray. “Anyone want anything? I’m getting a drink.” 

“I’ll come with you,” says Mariah immediately. “Extra set of hands.” She smiles at the rest of the table. “Okay, place your orders in now.”

The rest of the table seems quite happy for the drastic change of topic. Connor asks for something non-alcoholic, as Alex had recommended he avoid alcohol for the time being, and Evan and Mariah head off. 

Connor watches them go, concerned. Zoe squeezes his hand, then redirects the conversation to something about the city council’s plans for a playground near her work, and Alana’s eyes light up and soon she’s talking about resource consent and community feedback and Connor feels a little bit like he’s dodged a bullet. 

He looks over to the bar where he can see Evan down an entire glass of what looks like whisky in one go. 

Then another. 

And another. 

Fuck. 

* * *

“Jesus Christ on a tandem bike,” Mariah said to Evan, shaking her head. “Who is the chick with the braids? She is intense as hell.”

“Yeah,” Evan said hollowly. “We uh. Went to high school with her. Connor, Zoe, Sabrina, and I.”

“Let me guess,” Mariah said, smiling. “She was ready to like… kill someone to be named valedictorian.”

Evan almost laughed, thinking back to how Alana Beck tried to get him into massive trouble a few weeks shy of graduation by claiming it was his idea for Jared to sell his AP notes. Fucking hell she had basically interrogated Connor back at the table. Like he was hiding something about being sick. Fucking hell. “Oh yeah. That was totally her. She was super intense back then too.”

“You’d think with a girlfriend that hot she could afford to relax,” Mariah said. 

Evan almost smiled. “Should I be jealous for Zoe by proxy?” He tried to joke but he still felt all shaky and out of sorts and freaked out. 

“We’re not like official or whatever,” Mariah said. “We’re both too busy. Honestly, I don’t understand how you have time for a boyfriend.”

“Uh…”

Evan swallowed uncomfortably. They made their way up to the bar, and Mariah fixed Evan with a look. “Dude you definitely need a drink,” She said. 

“Yeah, no shit,” Evan said quietly. The bartender turned and asked what they needed and Evan ordered himself a whiskey, Connor a glass of orange juice, and a gin and tonic each for Alana and Marisol. He placed a few dollars in the tip jar and the bartender poured Evan’s whisky first. 

“Actually, can I have another?” He asked the bartender. He considered. “Better make it three, just to be safe.” 

The bartender poured and Evan knocked the drinks back. 

One. 

Two. 

Three. 

“Easy tiger,” Mariah said. “You trying to get white girl wasted?”

“I am trying to make it through dinner without yelling at anybody,” Evan said simply. The bartender poured him another whisky, and Evan and Mariah gathered all of the drinks up and headed back to the table. 

Evan automatically felt better with a little liquor in him. 

“Hey,” He said when he returned to his seat next to Connor, taking his hand and kissing the knuckles. “Are you okay?”

“Yeah,” Connor said with an uncertain looking smile. “Great.”

Evan frowned a bit. “I should have said something to shut her up, I should have -”

“Hey,” Connor said quietly. “It’s fine. I’m fine, okay? I’m fine.”

Evan knew he wasn’t fucking fine. He looked pale and tired and they… they shouldn’t be here. This was too much too fast, Connor wasn’t well enough, this was a stupid idea they should just have… stayed home, they shouldn’t have come out here. 

“Hey,” Connor said. “You okay?”  
Evan nodded. “Of course,” He said softly. “You? Not too tired or… or too sore?”

Connor shook his head. “I’m good.” He was smiling but he looked apprehensive, he looked… like he was holding himself back. 

There was something he wasn’t saying to Evan. Something Connor was hiding from Evan. Evan could… feel that something wasn’t right. He could tell from the way Connor had tensed up when Alana had interrogated him and he didn’t know what to do about it. 

They should have stayed home.

“So Evan,” Alana said. “You went into environmental law, right?”

Evan nodded, taking a sip of his drink. “Yep.”

“I always thought you might go into law,” Alana said, smiling a little. She looked at Marisol, “Evan was always the top of our class with me in high school. Connor too, actually. But I never understood why Evan wanted to go to a Big Ten school until it occurred to me that they had excellent debate teams and pre-law tracks.”

Evan wanted to protest that he had not gone to Ohio State for those reasons, but… She was kind of right. So instead he frowned at Alana and finished his drink too quickly. 

Connor cleared his throat awkwardly. “Yeah, uh, Evan actually did the legal work for my bookstore?”

“Oh wonderful, I’ve actually been meaning to reach out to local small business owners…” 

Evan didn’t hear much else of what Alana had to say because he excused himself from the table to head back to the bar. He ordered another whisky, making the rounds and saying hello to some members of Sabrina’s family, aunts and uncles and cousins that he knew from when they dated. He greeted her parents each with a hug and then made his way to wear Graham and Sabrina were standing, talking with Tabby and one of the groomsmen. “Hey,” Evan said, smiling. “Congratulations!” 

Sabrina turned and beamed at him. She did really look great. “Thank you!” She said, throwing her arms around Evan in a tight hug. “Thank you so much for coming.”

“Of course,” Evan said. “We wouldn’t miss it.”

“I saw you and Connor come in,” Graham said. “He looks loads better.”

“I know,” Evan said, some of the warmth from this morning creeping back in. “He does, doesn’t he?”

“Yeah man,” Graham said. 

“Okay, quick, before we get pulled away again,” Sabrina said. “Grab a selfie with me.”

Evan posed quickly for a photo with Sabrina. They both looked happy, smiley, normal in the picture. Normal. Like everything was… fine. 

“Hey, thanks for sitting me with Alana by the way,” Evan said, rolling his eyes. 

Sabrina’s smile drooped. “Fuck, if she’s being rude about Connor I will kick her ass. I specifically warned her  _ not  _ to say anything.”

“It’s not your fault,” Evan said. “Just. It’s kind of a lot. She has tons of questions.”   


“Naturally curious, that one,” Sabrina rolled her perfectly lined eyes.“Do you want to head back? Save him?”   


“I probably should,” Evan said. He hugged Sabrina again. “Congratulations. Seriously.”

“Thanks,” Sabrina said. 

Evan went back to the bar. From there he could see that Mariah and Zoe had engaged Connor in a conversation, and he was smiling. He looked happy. 

Evan just needed a minute. 

He got another drink, and then Evan stepped outside to have a smoke. 

This wedding was… too fucking much. 

Way too fucking much. Too much too soon, too much too fast, all way too fucking much.

“Evan!” 

He was surprised to see Sabrina’s sister Sam rushing toward him. She was wearing a coral sari and smoking a cigarette. She pulled him into a one-armed hug. “How are you?” She asked, her voice sounding genuine, which threw Evan a bit. Sam had never liked him. Evan always suspected it had to do with him being sort of broke and definitely Jewish, but he had never expressed that to Sabrina because he didn’t want to come across like he didn’t like her family. 

“Hey Sam. How are you?”

“Glad Graham’s parents are paying for this wedding so that there’s an open bar,” She said, smiling. “Didn’t she look gorgeous?”

“Yeah,” Evan said smiling because it was true. “Sabrina looked beautiful.” 

“No seller’s remorse, huh?”

Evan opened his mouth to reply when Sam smacked herself in the head. “Oh shit that’s right, Bean says you’re gay now.”

Evan forced a smile. “Bi, actually. Been bi the whole time.”

“Whatever,” Sam said, waving her hand dismissively. “Your boyfriend was in a coma, wasn’t he?”

Evan felt like someone had punched him. “Yeah,” Evan said. “He was.”

“How is he doing?” Sam said. “That was so sad, oh my god. Didn’t he, like, basically die?”

“He’s alright. He’s here, actually,” Evan said. “He’s doing a lot better.”

“I don’t know how you dealt with that,” Sam said, taking a drag of her smoke. “I could not deal if Hassan was in a coma, let me tell you. I would totally fall apart.”

Evan didn’t know what to say so he just. Took a drag on his cigarette. Sam chattered on about other things, like Sabrina’s mom trying to push Sabrina into a diet before the wedding which Sabrina had refused and freaking out about Tabby’s new short hair but Evan barely heard a word. 

Because when Connor was in a coma, Evan  _ had _ totally fallen apart. 

He’d fallen apart so hard he barely saw Connor the first week he was conscious again. He was… Evan felt awful. He was absolutely awful and Alana Beck kept saying how impossible what happened to Connor and Evan felt like his head was going to pop right off of his shoulders, his head was just so damn loud and when he went back inside he could tell everyone was looking at him, everyone was judging him, the guy who went crazy when his boyfriend was in a coma, the ex boyfriend of the bride…

Evan stopped and got another drink on his way back to the table. 

Connor looked at him with big, worried eyes. “You okay?”

“I’m great,” Evan said. “Just needed some air.”


	54. FIFTY-THREE

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> "You just don’t want to see it, even though it’s right in front of you."

Evan passes out on Connor’s shoulder in the cab back to the bookstore. 

Connor’s trying not to panic, trying not to freak out, because if he does then things will get bad. He has to be the strong one right now, he has to keep it together, has to ignore how his limbs ache and scream, because Evan needs him.

Evan, who has been so unfailingly good to him ever since he got home from the hospital, needs him. 

He manages to wake Evan when they arrive at the bookstore. Connor pays the cab driver with shaking hands, then helps Evan out of the cab and to the front door. 

It takes Connor a few tries to get his shaking hands to cooperate, to get the door unlocked, and even longer to disarm the alarm, so long he’s afraid for a moment he’ll have to call the security company. But eventually they’re in, and Evan’s swaying against Connor and he’s desperately willing his useless body not to fail him now, because he needs to get Evan to bed. 

Upstairs. 

He needs to get Evan up the fucking stairs. 

Fuck. 

“M’gonna puke,” Evan mutters, then he’s wrenching himself away from Connor and making a beeline for the staff bathroom, faster than Connor can keep up with. 

Evan pukes for what feels like forever, and Connor rubs his back and tells him he loves him and thanks the heavens that at least his boyfriend is a polite puker and it’s all in the toilet. 

When he finishes, he’s shaking, and Connor helps him up, ignoring how his body screams in protest, ignoring how Edgar is meowing and rubbing at his ankles as if to tell him that this is bad, this is a bad idea, this is bad Connor can’t cope with this what is he doing what the fuck is he doing. 

He should have asked Zoe to help get Evan home, he knows that now. 

But he just… 

He couldn’t. 

Connor couldn’t admit that he needed help because he’s stubborn and stupid and still trying to pretend everything is normal, trying to pretend that he’s not still broken. 

And now Evan has to suffer for it. 

Christ, he’s such a fucking asshole. 

He manages to get Evan to the bottom of the stairs. 

And he tries. He really fucking tries, but after one stair, he feels his own knees buckling, feels his legs shaking, and realizes that this isn’t going to happen. He’s not going to get away with this, as much as he wants to, and if he tries, he’ll take Evan down with him. 

Fucking hell. 

They’ve already both died on a flight of stairs. Multiple times. No need to push their fucking luck. 

“Okay,” says Connor gently to Evan, who’s looking at Connor now, blinking, his eyes dull and unfocused. “Okay, it’s okay, we’re just gonna… we’re just going to head to the sunshine spot, okay? Just… we’ll sleep on the bean bags tonight. It’ll be okay.”

“S’not sunny,” Evan protests weakly, but he lets Connor guide him around the corner to the sunshine spot. Connor only turned on some of the lights to get them in, so it’s only dimly lit, and it’s cold, he notices with dismay. 

At night, the sunshine spot is cold, the spot that’s kept him warm so many days since he first got home is cold, and he feels like crying. 

But he doesn’t. 

Because Evan needs him. 

He helps Evan down onto a beanbag and helps him take off his suit jacket. Connor doesn’t dare take off his own, for fear he’ll be too cold, but Evan’s warm, so warm, almost too warm, and his forehead is clammy to the touch and he’s shaking and Connor can’t do anything. 

He can’t do anything about it. 

He’s fucking useless. Completely out of his depth. 

It takes him a moment to realize that he’s shaking, too. 

“Don’t understand it,” Evan mumbles. 

“Don’t understand what?” Connor asks, brushing Evan’s hair out of his face gently, taking his hand and holding it tight. 

Evan grabs onto the edge of Connor’s suit jacket with a surprising amount of force. His eyes are red. “Don’t understand how you’re alive.”

Connor feels a fresh chill go through him. “Yeah,” he manages to choke out.

“You… you should have died, it doesn’t make sense that you died, and it should… it should have been me, it should have been me because at least I’d have fucking deserved it.”

Another chill. “No,” Connor says immediately. “No, Evan, you-”

“There’s probably another universe out there,” Evan interrupts, his voice quiet and dark and terrifying. “A universe where I died like I was supposed to and you’re fucking better off.”

Connor thinks his heart might have just stopped. 

Thinks he might have stopped breathing. 

It takes him a moment to realize that isn’t the case. 

“I wouldn’t be,” Connor says when he finally gets his voice back. “I wouldn’t be better off at all, fuck Evan, you…”

“Doesn’t… doesn’t make sense, none of it makes sense and I fucked it up, I fucked it all up,” Evan mumbles when Connor can’t bring himself to continue. “Fucked it all up, should have been me, should have been me who died, me who’s so sick, me who’s suffering, not fair that it’s you when it’s my fault, it’s all my fault-”

“This is not your fault,” Connor says sharply. 

Evan stares at him for a long moment, blinking owlishly. 

Then he starts to laugh. 

This sad, wet, heartbreaking laugh. 

“You don’t…” He hiccups and continues. “You just don’t want to see it, even though it’s right in front of you. The loops were my fault. You’d be fine if I’d never… it’s my fault that we died and died and died and it’s fucking insane that you never admit it, that you never blame me, it’s fucking insane that you let me touch you, that you’ve ever let me touch you when you know as well as I do that everything I touch breaks, I break things, I ruin things, I’ve ruined everything-”

“You have not ruined everything,” Connor insists. “You haven’t, I swear.”

“Everything I touch breaks.”

“It doesn’t.”

“Connor, look at you,” says Evan, and there’s disgust in his voice, genuine disgust, and Connor feels his face burn, feels something ugly twist inside him. “You’re broken, you’re skin and bones, I did that I made that happen I broke you I  _ destroyed _ you I-”

“Stop,” Connor says, his voice desperate. “Please, just… stop, please? I’m not… this isn’t your fault, what happened to me isn’t your fault. I love you.”

Evan lets out another hiccup. “You fucking shouldn’t,” he says. 

And then he closes his eyes and passes out. 

Connor holds his breath for a moment, terrified out of his mind that he’s not breathing, that Evan’s not breathing, but soon he’s snoring, that same familiar noise, and Connor can breathe again. 

Fuck. 

Fuck. 

Fuck. 

Connor puts Evan’s jacket over him, then heads back to the bathroom to check the damage. He’s shaking, he knows, but he pushes through, because Jax has to work here in the morning and the last thing they should have to put up with is a bathroom someone clearly puked in. 

It’s not too bad, actually. It doesn’t look bad, at least, but the smell is undeniable. 

Connor holds himself steady against the wall, then turns around and heads toward the storeroom. There’s a cupboard in there with cleaning supplies, he can at least pour something in and flush and make it less gross. 

He misses the light switch on the way into the storeroom and trips on a box he can’t see. With a yelp, he lands heavily on the floor. 

Connor doesn’t know how long he’s there on the floor. He’s dizzy, he’s shaking and it hurts, it fucking hurts, but eventually he gets up, slowly but surely. 

All but crawls back to the sunshine spot, to where Evan is still sleeping. 

Curls himself up next to him and tries to sleep.

He drifts in and out, his whole body throbbing with pain. When the sun rises, he moves himself into his armchair and lets the morning sun hit him, warm him through, and drifts a little longer. 

It’s seven am when he finally caves and calls for help. 

First, he calls Andi, who doesn’t answer, which he’s not that surprised about, to be honest. He stares at his phone for a while, trying to figure out what to do. 

Andre might help, he thinks. But he’s got a kid at home, and Connor’s not that much of an asshole to call a friend with a kid for help. Zoe’s out of the question - she’s probably hungover, given how clearly drunk she was at the wedding. 

Jax is working the Sunday shift, Connor remembers. 

He really doesn’t want to call them, but he’s out of options. 

Jax answers on the third ring. “Connor? Is everything okay?”

“Hi,” Connor says, his voice coming out weak and scratchy. “I… is there any chance you can come in early today?”

“Of course,” Jax says immediately. “When?”

Connor closes his eyes. “Now?”

There’s a pause before Jax responds. “Are you okay?”

“I’m fine,” Connor lies. He tries to laugh. “Just… we were at a wedding last night, Evan and I? He got a little drunk and I… I couldn’t get him up the stairs.”

“Fuck,” Jax mutters. There’s some kind of sound in the background. “Where are you now?”

“In the sunshine spot,” Connor replies, feeling completely humiliated. “I… we slept on the bean bags, it’s just… my meds are upstairs? And I can’t…”

“We’re on our way,” Jax says immediately, and the line goes dead. 

Connor lets out a shaky breath. 

Then a loud sob. 

Evan stirs in his sleep. 

Connor reaches out and strokes his hair. 

“What’s wrong?” Evan slurs, his voice rough and weak. 

“Shhhhh,” Connor says gently. “Just… go back to sleep. It’s okay. You’re okay. I got you.”

Jax and Maureen arrive barely ten minutes later. They’re both in sweats and t-shirts, and Maureen has a backpack with her. The first thing Maureen does is rush upstairs to Connor’s apartment, and soon enough she’s back with his pain medication. 

“That’ll just knock me right out,” Connor says, shaking his head. “Not until we get Evan upstairs.”

“He’s drunk,” Jax says, sounding frustrated. “You’re sick. You take precedence here, sorry boss.” They stare at Connor until he takes the pain medication Maureen offers, then the two of them help Connor to his feet. 

Jax escorts him up the stairs, practically carrying him. At one point, Connor’s genuinely convinced Jax is just going to pick him up, and that’s so fucking embarrassing he doesn’t think he can stand it. 

It’s bad enough when it’s Evan, he can’t fucking deal with Jax doing it. 

Jax helps Connor into his room and sits him down on the edge of the bed, then rummages through his drawers and throws a pair of sweatpants and a sweater toward him. Moments later, Maureen is all but dragging Evan into the room. Evan looks exhausted and drained but more lucid than he was, and he won’t look Connor in the eye. 

Evan rubs his face wearily. 

Maureen heads over to Connor and touches his shoulder gently. 

Connor’s shaking, and he hates that Maureen can tell. 

“Are you okay to get changed?” she says, her voice so, so soft. “Or do you need a hand?”

Connor is beyond embarrassed. Beyond humiliated. They’ve all seen how useless he is, how broken. 

Evan knows he’s broken. 

Evan said he’s broken. 

But he’s shaking, his arms burn, every muscle in his body is screaming and this suit is uncomfortable and he just wants to sleep. He murmurs an affirmative to Maureen, who clearly gets the message, because she helps him take off the suit jacket and gently helps unbutton his shirt. He’s wearing a long-sleeved t-shirt underneath, because he’s always wearing crazy amounts of layers these days, and Maureen helps him pull on a sweater. 

Connor winces as she brushes her fingers over his side helping him get his sweater on. She stills, frowns, then lifts up his t-shirt a little and gasps.

“What happened?” she asks, and Connor looks down to see a large dark bruise covering almost his entire side. 

“I fell,” he says quietly, and he can hear Evan take in a sharp breath, and he hates this he hates it so much. 

“Shit,” says Maureen quietly, and she pulls up Connor’s shirt a little to investigate it further. Jax looks over and lets out this gasp, then looks at Connor, frowning deeply. 

“We need to get that looked at,” they say immediately. “You could have broken a rib, that looks really bad, really fucking bad.”

“I just want to sleep,” Connor says, a little weakly. 

Jax looks unconvinced. “I really think you should-”

“Thank you so much for coming,” Connor interrupts, pulling down his shirt and wrapping his arms around himself gingerly. “I just… we need to sleep. I think it’s best if we just got some sleep, I’ll make sure you get paid overtime for this Jax-”

“That’s not necessary,” Jax interrupts, frowning. They look from Connor to Evan, then back to Connor and offer a weak smile. “I’m happy to help.”

“It’s early,” Connor says wearily. “If you… you guys are welcome to nap in the spare room if you want.”

Maureen nods. “Okay. Yeah, we’ll do that. Is it okay if Jax grabs a shower before their shift?”

“Of course,” Connor says with a nod. Smiles at them the best he can. “Thank you, both of you. Just… thank you.”

Jax and Maureen leave the room and close the door behind them. 

Evan still won’t look at Connor. 

“I’m sorry,” he says quietly. “I… that was so fucking stupid of me, I didn’t mean to… I… fuck, you’re hurt, I hurt you, I-”

“It shouldn’t have been you.”

Evan finally does look at Connor, his eyes confused and hurt. “What are you talking about?”

“Last night,” Connor explains, trying to keep his voice from breaking, “you said that it should have been you, not me. That you deserved it. That I’d be… that I’d be better off without you.”

Evan’s eyes widen. He shakes his head. “Connor, I didn’t… I wouldn’t say that-”

“Just like you wouldn’t tell Sabrina that you’d kill yourself if I died?”

Evan looks at his lap. “Connor. I’m so fucking sorry. I… I drank too much, I was stupid, I was drunk-”

“Zoe said that you were drunk a lot,” Connor interrupts. “When I was… when I was out.”

“I’m sorry,” Evan mutters. “I… can we just sleep?”

Connor hesitates. 

He knows they need to talk about this, he knows, but he’s just…

So tired. 

So tired, and in so much pain. 

“Okay,” he says softly. “We can sleep.”


	55. FIFTY-FOUR

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> "I dreamed I was in another version of reality. Like some kind of alternate universe.”

Evan’s head was pounding when he opened his eyes next. Pounding, his blood pulsing so loudly it was like a kick drum had lodged itself between his ears. 

Fuck he’d drunk too much last night. 

Fuck…

Things came to him in waves, nauseating waves. A cab ride home. Throwing up in the staff bathroom downstairs… Connor’s face in the half-light of the bookstore, looking stricken and scared and… 

Then nothing. 

Until this morning when Maureen roughly shook him awake and all but bodily dragged him up the stairs. Connor hurt, Connor really fucking hurt, Connor saying he wouldn’t be better off without Evan even though last night fucking proved that he would...

Fuck fuck fuck fuck fuck fuck fuck. 

“You’re awake,” Connor said softly. 

Evan had half a mind to just shut his eyes and go back to sleep. But he’d been spotted. “So are you,” He croaked, his voice worn out. Hoarse. Evan slowly sat up, his back protesting, his head screaming. But then he recalled the massive, dark bruise on Connor’s side. “Are you alright? You… You were really hurt this morning… I. I did that?”

Connor shook his head. “No, no, I tripped in the storeroom last night,” He said. “You didn’t do anything.”

Evan put his head in his hands. “I got drunk last night. Really drunk. I’m so sorry, I got super drunk and left you to take care of me, that’s so fucked up, I really fucked up, I’m so fucking sorry -”

“Evan,” Connor said softly, his voice gentle like his hands, resting on Evan’s shoulders, featherlight but there, undeniably there. “You need to breathe.” 

He nodded. 

Evan couldn’t be freaking out like this, he could not afford to be freaking out like this. He took a deep breath. Released it. Tried again. And again. Tried until his breathing was more even, his hands less shaky. 

“You okay?”

Evan shook his head. Fuck, he could barely look at Connor, he was so ashamed of himself. So humiliated. He’d been… such a selfish piece of shit last night. What had he been thinking, drinking like that? Connor was still sick. He was still unwell, he needed help to do basic stuff like showering, why the fuck would Evan get drunk and abandon him like that what kind of monster fucking did that?

“I am so fucking sorry about last night,” Evan said. 

Connor let out a relieved sounding sigh. “It’s alright.”

“I drank way too much -”

“I don’t blame you,” Connor said. “Fuck, Alana Beck just… doesn’t let up, you know? If I could have, I would have been right there with you.”

“I shouldn’t have left you to deal with me like that,” Evan said. “I’m really sorry. You shouldn’t have to put up with me like that, especially not when you’re…” He trailed off trying to find the right words, but his head was spinning. 

“...broken?” Connor filled in for him, his voice so small and sad and hopeless sounding. 

“What?” Evan said, alarmed. “You broke something? Shouldn’t we go to the hospital, we should -”

“No,” Connor said. “I’m fine, just a little banged up.” His face did not make it seem like he was fine. “But that’s… You said last night… You said I was…” Connor looked away, and Evan could see he was shivering, he was shivering and cold and he looked so fucking sad. “You said I was broken.”

Evan wrapped his arms around Connor gently. “No I…” Evan tried to search through his memories, tried to recall what he had said to Connor, but it was all a murky, indistinct blur. “Connor I am so sorry if I said that. I am so sorry. I don’t think you’re broken. At all. I think you’re still recovering and healing and that I was a total prick to get drunk and leave you to deal with my messes. I am so fucking sorry.”

“You’re not okay,” Connor said, his voice so quiet Evan could hardly hear it over the spin cycle happening inside his brain that was desperately trying to wring out the alcohol he had soaked it in. “Evan, you said some shit last night and… I know you’re not okay.”

Evan shook his head, trying to swallow and not want to throw up immediately. “I’m fine, really, just an idiot and an asshole.”

“You’re not,” Connor said, and when he looked at Evan his eyes were glassy. “You’re not okay. Zoe… she told me when I was out, you were drinking like. A lot. You were drunk a lot of the time. Is that true?” 

Evan didn’t deny it. He just looked away.

“And the thing you said to Sabrina? The things you said to me last night…?”

“I don’t remember saying that,” Evan admitted softly. “I don’t remember that at all.” He tried to smile. “I was being stupid because I was drunk, I’m sorry. I didn’t mean to make you worried. You know how I get when I’m drunk, I get all sappy and....” 

The lie hung in the air for a long time. 

“You usually get cuddly and affectionate,” Connor said quietly. “This was. This was scary, this reminded me of when you gave yourself alcohol poisoning this…”

“Connor, really, I’m fine.”

“No you’re not,” Connor protested, his eyes glistening. “I know you’re not. You’ve thrown yourself into taking care of me and I am fucking terrified that it’s killing you!”

Evan took a sharp breath in. 

Connor was crying, taking these small gasps of breath and. 

Evan was going to be sick. He was just going to be sick. He stood up quickly, ignoring Connor’s protest, asking where he was going and he dove for the bathroom to throw up into the toilet for a long time. 

A concerningly long time. 

When he got up, after he had flushed his sick and rinsed out his mouth, he found Connor leaning against the wall of the bedroom, his face sickly pale and covered in a sheen of sweat. 

“What are you doing up?”

“Wanted to check on you,” Connor said, his jaw clenched tight. He was obviously in a lot of pain. “Only got this far.”

“Come on,” Evan said softly. “You should go back to bed.”

“I want to talk about this,” Connor protested. “You’re… this isn’t good, Evan, drinking all the time, and-and talking about how I’d be better off without you… I’m worried you’re not okay.”

“I’m fine,” Evan said. “Do you need more pain meds?”

Connor looked like he might protest, but he nodded his head after a few seconds deliberating. Evan fetched a glass of water for him, and Connor swallowed his pills. 

“Just rest for a while, okay?” Evan said to him softly. 

“I still want to talk about this,” Connor said, his eyes already closing. 

“We can talk when you wake up.”

“I love you,” He said, his breathing starting to even out. “Worried about you.”

Evan kissed the top of Connor’s head. Told him he loved him back, and not to worry. Before long, he had also drifted off into an uneasy sleep. 

* * *

Evan has a court appearance on Monday and Connor’s… worried. 

He’s so worried that he forces himself to get up when Evan’s alarm goes off, despite Evan’s protests that he should be sleeping, should be resting, that he needs to take care of himself. 

He’s so worried he gets up and makes coffee while Evan’s in the shower, even though his entire body is screaming in protest. 

When Evan gets into the kitchen and sees cereal and a fresh pot of coffee on the kitchen table, he looks… almost pissed off. 

“Connor,” he says, his voice quiet. “You shouldn’t… you should still be sleeping, you shouldn’t be making me breakfast.”

“It’s just cereal and coffee,” Connor points out. But he stays seated, stays in the chair at the kitchen table, and desperately tries to hide the fact that he’s shaking, that he’s trembling a little, because Evan’s right, he shouldn’t be up. 

“And it’s really nice of you to do that,” says Evan, in this tone like he’s trying to be reasonable, “but you can’t… you need to be focusing on getting well.”

“Just cereal and coffee,” he says again, pouring himself a cup of coffee. He manages not to spill any, which is progress, he thinks. 

Slowly but surely, he’s getting his useless limbs to cooperate. 

Slowly but surely. 

Evan sighs, but sits down and pours himself a cup of coffee. He drinks the whole cup black, then pours another and winces slightly. 

Connor thinks he might still be hungover. 

Fuck. 

“You sure you’re gonna be okay today?” Connor asks tentatively. 

“I’m fine,” Evan replies, his voice just inches away from sharp. “I… you don’t need to worry about me, Connor, I… I’m fine.”

Connor frowns.

He knows that’s bullshit. 

But before he can argue, Evan’s finishing another cup of coffee, standing up and kissing Connor on the cheek. “Gotta go,” he says. “I love you. I’ll see you tonight.”

With that, he’s gone, without even eating anything. 

Connor sighs. 

Looks at his cup of coffee and considers drinking it, but can’t bring himself to do it. 

Instead, he stands up and drags himself back to bed. 

When he wakes up next, he can hear music. He gets up and gingerly heads to his kitchen, where Andi is listening to David Bowie and doing dishes. On the counter is a loaf of banana bread, which looks and smells freshly baked. 

“How did you get in here?” Connor asks, more than a little confused. 

“Maureen let me in,” she says with a wink. Andi reaches out and pulls Connor into a hug that’s surprisingly gentle, compared to her usual bone-crushing ones. 

Fuck, he must still really look like shit if Andi’s trying to be gentle with her hugs, fuck. 

“How are you feeling?” Andi asks as she gestures for Connor to sit at the kitchen table. “I didn’t mean to wake you up, sorry. I just… I clean better with music.”

“You didn’t wake me up,” Connor assures her. “And I’m fine?”

Andi stops. Looks at him carefully. 

“I don’t think that’s true, babe,” she says, her voice so fucking gentle it makes Connor ache. “And it’s okay if you’re not. It’s completely understandable if you’re not. No one expects you to just be fine after everything you’ve been through.”

Connor takes in a deep breath. 

Lets it out again. 

Takes in another. 

“Connor,” says Andi gently, sitting next to him, and that’s all it takes for the dam to burst and tears to start pouring down his face. Fuck. Fuck. 

“I fucked everything up,” Connor confesses shakily. “I… it’s all so fucked up, everything’s fucked up, my body’s a mess and I’m having nightmares and I can’t tell my therapist what really happened, I can’t tell anyone, and I was…”

Connor stops himself. 

Has to stop himself. 

Because this isn’t the Andi who knows everything about the fucking weirdness of his life these days. 

This isn’t that Andi. 

This is the Andi from this universe. The one he didn’t hurt. 

The one he didn’t leave. 

The one whose heart he didn’t shatter. 

Andi looks at him, her eyes wide, and there’s something hard to decipher in her expression.

“What really happened?” she asked gently. “Sounds like you need to talk about it.”

Connor shakes his head. “You’ll think I’m a fucking lunatic if I tell you.”

Andi blinks. Takes his hand and squeezes it. 

“Babe,” she says gently. “I’m pretty fucking open-minded. Lay it on me.”

Connor knows he shouldn’t. 

Knows that he should stop himself, should hold himself back. 

But he’s so tired. 

So scared. 

He can tell that Evan’s not okay, that he’s slipping, that he knows that something’s wrong that Connor won’t tell him, but he thinks it would destroy him, crush him into pieces and he can’t do it, he just can’t do it, he can’t tell him, he can’t hurt him like that…

“When I… when I was in a coma,” Connor says quietly. “I… I dreamed I was in another version of reality. Like some kind of alternate universe.”

Andi looks at him and blinks. “That sounds super trippy,” she says, her voice almost mild. “What was it like?”

“I… I woke up the day after I turned 27,” Connor continues, trying to figure out the safest way to do this, the safest way to get this off his chest, to loosen some of the tension, the pressure that’s been threatening to spill out for weeks, without getting himself locked away, without terrifying his friend and former roommate. “And… Evan was dead? He’d… he’d killed himself.”

Andi’s eyes widen. “Oh my god.”

“And it was my fault,” Connor says without meaning to. “Because I didn’t save him.”

Andi looks so sad. She shakes her head. “Connor, it wasn’t-”

“It was,” Connor interrupts firmly. “Because…” He lets out this shaky sigh and it all comes pouring out of him. “Because in this reality, in real life, I  _ did _ save him. That night, the night I turned 27, remember how I left the party? I left the party and ran into Evan at the liquor store. And I followed him home and stopped him from jumping off the roof of his building.” He sniffs. Wipes his face. “And when I was in the coma, I saw a version of reality where I… where I didn’t do that. And he was dead. He was dead, and I had to… I had to live without him.”

Andi pulls him into a hug. This one’s tighter than the one before, but nowhere near as bone-crushing as her hugs usually are. Fuck, he must really look like he can’t fucking handle it if she’s holding back this much. 

Fuck. 

“I’m so sorry,” says Andi as she pulls away, looking so, so sad. 

“I knew I wasn’t in the right reality,” Connor says, because it’s all pouring out of him now. “I… I freaked out at the beginning, and you and Zoe got me, like, put in the psych ward for a bit. And when I got out, I told you and someone else what had happened to me and you… talked to your dad? Who’s a physicist?” Connor laughs a little weakly. “I don’t think I even know what the fuck it is your dad does. I’ve never met him.”

Andi’s eyes widen. “No,” she says. “You haven’t.” She frowns a little. “Describe him to me.”

“About a foot shorter than me,” Connor says. “Almost as pale. Wears a lot of tweed. Dr. Kenneth Whitten. He told me to call him Kenny but I wasn’t going to do that, obviously.”

Andi looks… almost afraid. “Connor,” she says slowly. “That’s… that’s my dad. My physicist dad.” 

Connor feels cold. 

He shakes his head. “It… maybe I’ve seen a photo, maybe I-”

“I don’t have photos of my parents in the apartment,” Andi says, shaking her had. “I’m not a photo person. Never have been.” There is something like amazement in her eyes. “Connor, what if that wasn’t a dream?”


	56. FIFTY-FIVE

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> “If it’s real, then what I did while I was there was me. Was my decision. And I’ve got no one to blame but myself.”

Connor shakes his head. “It had to be a dream,” he says, lies, because he knows it’s not. “It would… it would be crazy if it wasn’t a dream.”

“Tell me what else happened,” Andi asks, her voice urgent. “Tell me how you got back. If you talked to my dad, then that means there was some kind of plan to get you back to this reality, right?”

Connor needs to remember not to fucking underestimate Andi. Underneath the eccentric nudist artist, there’s one hell of a quick mind. “There was,” he admits. “Your dad… he got me in touch with this scientist who’d had some sort of… weird experience.” He’s hedging, he knows, he’s trying to talk around the death loops, because there are still some things he won’t admit, he’ll never talk about. “He had some ideas. We did two experiments. The first one… it only half worked, but it… I saw my body, here, in this reality. I saw myself in the coma, but I couldn’t move, I couldn’t respond. Evan was there and I… I tried so hard, I tried to make my body move and I swore I did, just a little, just enough to make my hand move. And Evan felt it. He felt me squeeze his hand.”

Andi’s eyes are practically dinner plates now. “He said you squeezed his hand,” Andi says urgently. “He did, he swore up and down that you’d squeezed his hand, right before you…”

Connor blinks. “Right before I what?”

“Right before you crashed,” Andi says, her voice wobbling. “Right before they had to restart your heart. You… you stopped breathing on your own, they had to put you on a ventilator. That’s when… when you stopped breathing, that’s when Zoe had to make the call to follow your wishes. What you’d written in your will about-”

“No extraordinary measures,” Connor says, feeling sick. “I… fuck, they had to restart my heart in the other reality, too, I nearly… I nearly died them.”

“That wasn’t a dream,” Andi says insistently. “Connor, you… you were in some other reality, you have to have been, that’s too big of a coincidence.”

Connor shakes his head, because he won’t…

He can’t admit it. 

He just can’t. 

“What about the second experiment?” Andi asks, holding his hand tightly, her grip nearly bone-crushing. “What happened in that one? What did you do to get back?”

Connor closes his eyes. 

He can’t look at her as he says this. 

He feels himself start to shake. 

“I climbed… into a bathtub full of ice. Then let Dr. Weekes stop my heart.”

He can hear Andi taking in a sharp intake of breath.

“Connor,” she says urgently. He opens his eyes and looks at her. “Connor, you… when you woke up, you had hypothermia. You were freezing, you were so cold, you’ve… you’ve been cold ever since, everyone keeps saying that you’re always cold, you’re… fuck, you’re shaking now.”

Connor shakes his head. “I don’t want it to be real,” he says, and the shaking is taking over his whole body now. “I don’t want it to be real, because if it’s real then I fucked it all, then I ruined everything, then I… if it’s real then what I did while I was there was…” He takes in a shuddering breath and Andi looks alarmed. “If it’s real, then what I did while I was there was me. Was my decision. And I’ve got no one to blame but myself.”

Andi’s wrapping a blanket around him now, one of the many blankets that live at various points around his apartment these days. She pulls him in close, holds him tight, tries to warm him up, but he’s so cold he’s so cold he’s so fucking cold. 

“It’s okay,” Andi says soothingly. “Whatever happened, it’s okay, it’s not your fault, it was… it was a fucking impossible situation, I’m sure it wasn’t that bad.”

“I got drunk and slept with Parker at a party.”

“You what?”

“Parker,” Connor says, hearing his voice tremble. “Remember, you set me up with him and I went on, like, one date with him and ghosted him? You threw a party after the first experiment to cheer me up, it looked like… it looked like I’d never go home, and I was… I was so fucking drunk and so high and I just wanted to feel something, I wanted… I thought I’d never see Evan again, because in that reality, he was dead, Andi, Evan was dead, and I didn’t… I didn’t save him, I didn’t fucking save him.”

“It’s okay,” Andi says, her voice still soothing. “You were… it’s okay, it’s not the end of the world, it’s… I’m sure Evan will understand.”

Connor chokes out a sob. “How can I tell him about this? About any of this? He’s… fuck, you don’t…” He pulls away and wipes his face. He’s still trembling, tiny shakes all through him. “We went to Sabrina and Graham’s wedding on Saturday. We were at the reception for, what, an hour, maybe two? He… he got so fucking drunk, the things he was saying when he was drunk, he… and I couldn’t help him, I couldn’t get him up the stairs, we had to… we had to sleep on the beanbags.” Connor hangs his head. “I couldn’t get him upstairs, I had to call Jax for help, I...” Connor shakes his head. “I can’t tell him this. He’s… it’s not good, Andi, he’s in a bad space and if I tell him about this, I…”

“If you tell me what?”

Connor turns to see Evan standing in the doorway, his expression stony. “Evan.”

“Court got out early,” says Evan, his voice clipped. He moves closer, frowning, and this is bad, this is really fucking bad, Connor doesn’t know what he heard. “If you tell me what, Connor? What is it?”

“You need to tell him,” Andi says gently. 

“You told Andi?” Evan asks, sounding… frustrated, angry, hurt, Connor doesn’t fucking know. “Is this… you told Andi before you told me? What’s going on? What the fuck is going on?”

Connor shakes his head. “I can’t-”

“Bullshit you can’t,” Evan interrupts, his voice cold. “If you can tell Andi, you can tell me.”

“Evan,” Andi says, her voice soft. “He… give him a minute, he’s been through enough.”

“Is this about what happened when you were in a coma?” Evan asks, and the minute he does, he freezes, looking at Andi helplessly, and Connor’s suddenly aware of how badly he’s fucked up, how fucked up this whole situation is. “About…”

“Andi, thanks for the banana bread,” says Connor, bracing himself. “But I think Evan and I need to talk about this alone.”

Andi’s eyes are wide. She looks from Evan to Connor, then to Evan, then to Connor again. “Are you sure? I can-”

“Nice to see you Andi,” says Evan, his voice cold. “You can see yourself out.”

* * *

Evan had a headache. His case today had not gone great. His client wouldn’t agree to the settlement that Evan had spent most of the last few months drawing up when it came down to it and now there was another hearing in a month and he was exhausted. 

And he had to go back to Connor’s, and since the wedding... 

He’d really fucked up. 

He’d let Alana Beck’s game of ten thousand questions get under his skin and then Sam asked how he was dealing with everything and he decided, apparently, to just stop dealing with it. 

Super mature move. Very adult. 10/10 supportive partner. 

Things with Connor were… Not great. They hadn’t really talked so much as griped at each other and worried out loud at one another since Sunday. At this point, Evan half suspected the only reason Connor hadn’t broken up with him yet was because he was depending on Evan for basic things still. 

And Evan had totally fucked up. 

He wanted Saturday afternoon back. Saturday afternoon had been good, had felt normal, Connor looked almost healthy, they’d joked with each other… They’d even flirted a little, getting dressed up for the wedding, and Connor kept tugging on Evan’s tie to pull him in for another kiss and everything felt almost normal, almost how they were supposed to be, almost right.

And then Evan got drunk and ruined it. 

He just… fucking ruined things. 

He said hello to Maureen on his way inside, stopping to chat quickly and ask if she needed anything. She shook her head, smiling, and said, “Andi’s up there.”

Evan smiled slightly, imagining she might have gotten Connor stoned. 

Should he have suggested pot as a pain management option? He hadn’t even thought of it he was so damn selfish, just because he didn’t smoke… Fuck, he was such a shitty caretaker, he didn’t know what the fuck he was doing, he shouldn’t have let Connor’s mother leave, he should have been more honest because he probably  _ couldn’t  _ handle this...

Evan climbed the stairs and about halfway up realized his shoelace had come undone. He paused, debating whether to stop and tie it. 

If Evan had lived a normal life where he had never died from falling down a flight of stairs, he might have just finished the climb without another thought, without so much as a pause. But since he hadn’t, Evan stopped. Knelt down and tied up his shoe so he didn’t trip and fall and break his neck on his way upstairs, and was nearly finished when he heard Andi’s voice. 

“I’m sure it wasn’t that bad.”

Before Evan could even feel bad for accidentally eavesdropping, he heard Connor’s voice follow, sounding pained and guilty. “I got drunk and slept with Parker at a party.”

Evan felt his heart drop. His ears started to ring. 

Connor had… 

What?

That didn’t make sense. 

Was it before the coma?

When the hell could he have gotten drunk and slept with someone else at a party, Evan had been with him literally every day since he had gotten home, he’d… 

Slept with someone else.

Parker. Perfect Canadian Parker. 

Evan felt like he was going to be sick.

“You what?”

Connor’s voice was shaking. “Parker. Remember, you set me up with him and I went on, like, one date with him and ghosted him? You threw a party after the first experiment to cheer me up, it looked like… it looked like I’d never go home, and I was… I was so fucking drunk and so high and I just wanted to feel something, I wanted…” He trailed off. 

Evan stood completely still, knowing he wasn’t hearing what he thought he was hearing, because it made no fucking sense. No sense at all. What… what experiments? What the fuck was Connor talking about? 

Connor kept speaking, “I thought I’d never see Evan again, because in that reality, he was dead, Andi, Evan was dead, and I didn’t… I didn’t save him, I didn’t fucking save him.”

That…

What.

When had he died, how had he missed… 

This. This was the thing. The thing Connor hadn’t been saying, it dawned on Evan. It made perfect sense. He’d known, he knew something strange had happened when Connor was in a coma but he had no frame to ask about it, no ability to even hazard a guess, he just… 

Evan had been dead. Somehow. Connor had been in a coma and Evan had been dead.

Just how fucking drunk had Evan been on Saturday night that he’d missed some bullshit science-fiction subplot happening in his own life? 

“It’s okay,” Andi says, her voice still soothing. “You were… it’s okay, it’s not the end of the world, it’s… I’m sure Evan will understand.”

Evan did  _ not  _ fucking understand. He didn’t…

He didn’t understand anything. It was like everything faded to television static, to the sound of old school dialup internet, fuzzy and indistinct and disconcerting, a loop of nonsense words taunting him, he felt like he had taken a bite of aluminium foil, his jaw and teeth ached, his head hurt. 

And Connor was crying, Evan could hear him crying, Connor was crying he was upset or hurt or not okay and he had slept with Parker, but Evan had to help, he had to, his feet were moving on their own accord, up the rest of the stairs, key in the lock, into the apartment, quiet, his heart thudding too loudly in his chest so loudly it was blocking out all of the other sounds, so loudly that he could hardly hear his own thoughts. 

“I can’t tell him this. He’s… it’s not good, Andi, he’s in a bad space and if I tell him about this, I…”

Yeah no fucking shit Evan wasn’t in a good space. His fucking boyfriend had been actively lying to him for weeks now.

Evan stepped into the room. “If you tell me what?”

Connor looked at him with huge, terrified eyes. “Evan.”

“Court got out early,” Evan said, explaining, his tone flat, frowning, trying to piece this together, trying to make the parts fit. “If you tell me what, Connor? What is it?”

“You need to tell him,” Andi said to Connor, her tone encouraging and that was when it hit Evan fully, when the reality of it all dawned on him fully. 

Whatever it was… Whatever the thing he kept insisting was nothing was… 

Connor hadn’t told him. 

But he  _ had  _ told Andi. He’d told Andi, because topless dancing, whale noise-enthusiast, eccentric artist Andi was more entitled to this information than Evan was, apparently. 

Had he… did he tell Andi about the loops? About how they started and how they ended? Did she know everything? How much had he spilled about them to her?

“You told Andi?” He hated how hurt he sounded, how much his voice gave him away. “Is this… you told Andi before you told me? What’s going on? What the fuck is going on?”

Connor shook his head, looking horrified, scared… Scared of Evan. “I can’t-”

“Bullshit you can’t,” Evan cut him off. “If you can tell Andi, you can tell me.”

“Evan. He… give him a minute, he’s been through enough.”

Connor had been through enough. 

_ Connor  _ had. 

Right.

Of course.

Right.

That… made sense. 

“Is this about what happened when you were in a coma?” Evan asked before he could stop himself and then he realized. He realized what he’d done, what he’d just suggested, how much he’d fucked this up. “About…”

Connor shifted his jaw like he was preparing for a fight, “Andi, thanks for the banana bread, but I think Evan and I need to talk about this alone.”

Andi looked between the pair of them uncertainly, and Evan realized she was scared. Of him. Scared for Connor.

Connor who had slept with someone else. 

Connor who had kept something from Evan, something huge. 

Connor who… who said Evan was dead. 

She was scared for Connor. 

Right. Of course. Of course. 

She looked back to Connor, fear still there in her eyes, “Are you sure? I can-”

“Nice to see you Andi,” Evan said, his voice coming out colder than he meant it to, “You can see yourself out.”

She kissed Connor on the cheek swiftly, grabbed her things and hurried out of the apartment faster than if Evan had chased her out. 

The silence that followed the click of the door closing was deafening. The whole room practically vibrated with it. Connor was looking at Evan helplessly, tearfully, and Evan stood there, watching him.

Trying to process. 

Process the fact that the man he loved was a liar. 

He hadn’t known that before. 

Evan took a tentative step closer to Connor and watched him flinch. Recoil. Evan’s hands were shaking. He changed course, turning to sit in the chair adjacent to Connor, sinking into it, his head in his hands. 

Evan waited. 

Finally Connor spoke. “What… What did you hear?”

Evan said nothing. He couldn’t make his lips move, his brain work because it was whirring at a thousand miles an hour trying to… Trying to work out why and how and when Connor had thought he was dead and just how, exactly, that had led him to sleeping with Parker. 

He’d slept with fucking Parker. 

Connor had slept with Parker.

Evan had been dead.

That was an especially slippery fact, something he couldn’t quite keep a firm hold on, something that didn’t make sense but Evan knew… Knew he hadn’t just heard or misunderstood about Parker. He knew he’d heard that right.

Connor had slept with Parker.

He knew how badly that would hurt Evan, he knew how insecure and jealous that whole thing had made him, and yet Connor had slept with him. 

He knew it wasn’t the important part the big thing but that… that was the one that came to the top of his mind. That was the thing he couldn’t deny hearing. 

“You… you slept with Parker?” Evan said, finally able to look up at him. His voice was shaking. “When did you sleep with Parker?”

Connor looked almost sick at the words. “That’s… that’s what you got out of that?”

Evan almost smiled. Almost. “Answer the question.”

Connor flinched. “Two years ago.”

“What?” Evan blinked. That wasn’t right… That was only the March before last, that wasn’t… He scrubbed a hand over his face. He was shaking all over, his hands especially. “Connor I need you to tell me what the fuck is going on.”


	57. FIFTY-SIX

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> "Please help me. Help me understand what happened. Please.”

“You… you slept with Parker?” Evan says, looking at Connor, his voice shaking. “When did you sleep with Parker?”

“That’s… that’s what you got out of that?” Connor asks, feeling sick to his stomach, because if Evan heard that far back in the conversation, then he heard enough, enough that Connor can’t bullshit his way out of this. 

Not that he could. 

Not that it would work if he tried. 

“Answer the question,” Evan says, and this time it’s more even. 

Connor wonders, not for the first time, what it must be like to stare this man down in a courtroom. 

He flinches. 

There’s no right answer. 

So he goes with the truth. 

“Two years ago.”

“What?” asks Evan, blinking. He stares at Connor for a moment, then rubs his face. He’s trembling, Connor notices, and he hates it, he hates it so much. “Connor I need you to tell me what the fuck is going on.”

Connor takes a deep breath. 

“When I… when I got sick,” he says, trying to keep his voice even, trying to make this make sense. “At first it was like… like I was here and I wasn’t? Like I was… jumping between realities. Between here, where I was… where I was sick, where I was getting my appendix out, where you were taking me to the hospital, and… two years ago.” He looks at Evan. “When I turned 27.”

Evan’s face drains of color. “Did you… the loops?”

Connor shakes his head miserably. “No, not this time,” he says, trying to steady himself. “I… I woke up the day after my birthday and I… I wanted to call you because it was wrong, but I didn’t have your number, so I looked you up on Facebook and found all these posts. Because you… you’d died. You’d killed yourself. And I hadn’t stopped you.”

Evan stares for a moment. Blinks a few times. 

“You told me,” he says, his voice barely above a whisper. “You told me that… that Facebook said I was dead.”

“Yeah,” Connor says, feeling his eyes sting with tears. “It did. And I… it was like a dream, I bounced around a bit, I saw… I saw people mourn you, I saw…” He swallows, not sure he can bring himself to say that he watched Evan die, that he can say it, even now. It’s not… he’s not there yet, it’s not…

“What did you see?” Evan asks, something urgent in his voice.

“It reset,” Connor says quietly. “It… I stopped bouncing between this reality and that one, I… I got stuck. And it was the day after my 27th birthday again and you were dead and I was… stuck.”

Evan just stares at him for a long moment. 

A long, long moment.

“How long were you stuck?” he asks, sounding like he’s not sure he believes what he’s even asking. 

Connor closes his eyes. He can’t look at Evan. He just can’t. 

“Four and a half months,” he says quietly. “The day after my birthday, all the way to the beginning of July. I… I lived in that alternate reality where you were dead for four and a half months.”

He squares his shoulders. 

Wills himself to be brave. 

Looks Evan in the eye. “And I spent those four and a half months trying to find my way back.”

* * *

Evan felt dizzy with this information. Genuinely, physically dizzy. 

He’d… 

This was impossible. 

But Evan knew it was true. 

Because Connor had told Evan facebook said he was dead. Because he’d mumbled to himself in Hebrew, because he hadn’t made any sense and then… 

And then his fucking appendix burst and all hell broke loose. 

Connor had been somewhere where Evan had died. Had succeeded in killing himself in the middle of the bar. A world where he was gone. 

Evan was sure there were a lot of questions about the multiverse that he should be thinking about in light of that information, but mostly he just felt sick to his stomach. 

How the fuck had Connor been living another life for four months? How was it possible that he’d avoided the loops that time? How the hell had he gotten back? 

Why did this happen?

And… 

Why hadn’t he told Evan?

He hadn’t told him. For weeks. He’d been home for weeks now, and Evan had been there almost every single day, and Connor hadn’t told him. Evan had asked. He’d tried to ask, a few times, and Connor said nothing.

Connor hadn’t told him and he still wasn’t being completely honest. Evan could tell. He could tell by the way Connor was holding himself, the way his shoulders were tense the way his eyes were pleading. His eyes gave him away completely. 

They gave him away. 

Because he couldn’t look at Evan. He couldn’t look at him and Evan knew, he knew immediately that Connor was still holding back, still hiding something and he was so… 

Angry. Hurt. 

He was so…

Evan felt almost like he had expected this, somehow. Something impossible. Something horrible and painful and undoubtedly his own damn fault. 

“I don’t… I don’t understand,” Evan said slowly. “You… You were in a coma.”

“Yes,” Connor said. 

“But you were also… two years ago. In a version of reality where I was dead?”

Connor nodded. “Yes.” 

“And you… How did you come back?” Evan asked. “You said you… You tried to come back? How? And… and why?”

Connor looked confused. “Because I promised.”

“What?”

Connor looked at Evan pleadingly, his eyes huge and scared and sad. “I told you. Last February, that if… If we got separated I wouldn’t stop until I got back to you. I promised.”

Evan shook his head, not following, not understanding because this made no sense it made no fucking sense. He felt sick and shaky and horrified. He couldn’t… he kept turning it over and over in his mind, but Evan could not make it make sense to him. How Connor was here. How he had been there. “How did you come back?”

Connor shook his head. 

“Please,” Evan said. “Please I don’t… I don’t understand. And I don’t get why you wouldn’t tell me and I  _ knew _ . I knew something wasn’t right, I knew something happened but I didn’t push and I… Please. I need to know. How did you get back, if-if you were really in another reality?”

* * *

Connor doesn’t want to tell him. 

He doesn’t want to tell him, he doesn’t want to tell him because he knows it’ll break his heart. Knows he’ll hate it, he’ll hate what Connor had to do. 

Connor hates it, too, a little. 

But he knows that he’d do it again. 

In a heartbeat. 

If it meant getting home. 

“There was this scientist,” Connor says, trying to keep himself steady. “He, uh… he died and died like we did? And then like, wrote a paper on it, legitimately wrote a fucking paper on death loops.” Connor tries to lighten the mood a little. “One time he died because a snake jumped out of a toilet and bit him on the dick.”

Evan does not smile. He just looks at Connor, like he’s urging him to continue. 

“I… I made contact with this guy,” Connor explains. “And he had theories. On how I could get back. And I… I promised I’d get back to you, I promised, so I… I tried them out.”

Evan looks pale. Horrified. Sick. 

“What did you do?”

Connor sighs. “Does it matter?” he pleads. “I got home. I made it. Does it matter how?”

“Of course it does,” Evan says, almost snaps. “Of course it… what did you  _ do, _ Connor?”

Connor sighs again. Tries to keep himself together. 

He’s cold. 

He’s fucking cold. 

“The first experiment was, like, one of those sensory deprivation pods?” he tries to explain. “I… they injected me with something and… anyway, it kind of worked, but it didn’t go quite as planned.”

Evan doesn’t look impressed by his attempt to gloss over the details. “What did they inject you with?” he asks, point blank. 

Connor feels his shoulders sag. “LSD.”

Evan stares at Connor for a moment. “Okay,” he says, like he’s trying to make sense of it. “Okay, so… what, a sensory deprivation pod and getting really high was supposed to send you home?”

“Yeah,” says Connor, but Evan’s looking at him, his gaze hard, and Connor crumbles. “Also they gave me a mild electric shock.”

Evan just looks horrified. He opens his mouth, then closes it again. Shakes his head, like he can’t believe what’s happening. 

It’s quiet for a moment. 

Then Evan looks at Connor, straight at him. “What do you mean it kind of worked?”

Connor wishes he hadn’t said that. 

Wishes his boyfriend weren’t a fucking lawyer who never misses a goddamned thing. 

“I was… I saw myself,” he says, his voice shaking. “In the coma. And you were… you were there, you were all dressed up, you said you were supposed to go to Charles and Asher’s wedding, but that you couldn’t and…” 

He remembers. 

“You… it was like you knew I was there.”

Evan stares at him, eyes wide. 

He doesn’t say anything. 

* * *

There was no way this was real. 

There was no fucking way. 

And yet every time things started to sound too far fetched, too unreal, even to Evan who had died twenty times, Connor would say something like that. 

“I saw myself. In the coma. And you were… you were there, you were all dressed up, you said you were supposed to go to Charles and Asher’s wedding, but that you couldn’t and… You… it was like you knew I was there,” Connor said, and there was something desperate and utterly devastatingly sad in his voice, an obvious pleading to be believed. 

It wasn’t that Evan didn’t believe him. 

It was that he didn’t want to. 

But he knew it was real. “You squeezed my hand,” Evan said, his voice coming out jagged and broken, sounding as if he was seconds from tears. “You actually squeezed my hand. I knew it. I knew that was real.” He swallowed hard. “I knew. I knew something was different, I could tell but… You squeezed my hand, but nobody believed me. Zoe and your parents and… None of them believed me.”

Connor looked confused. “What? Why wouldn’t they believe you?”

Evan felt his cheeks burn with shame and he dropped his gaze. “I was drunk.”

“Oh, Evan… I…” Connor stopped. 

“I couldn’t leave,” Evan said, barely able to raise his voice above a whisper. “I couldn’t go out of town to some… some party for someone else’s happiness while you were lying in a hospital bed, I couldn’t do that to you. And then… then you stopped breathing, and-and your heart stopped and none of them would listen when I told them you’d squeezed my hand. Nobody would believe me... “ Evan scrubbed a hand over his face, trying to rub out the emotion there. Stay focused. “You really squeezed my hand?”

“Yes,” Connor answered firmly, no space for debate in his tone. 

“Why didn’t… Why didn’t that experiment work?” Evan asked then. “You… After that you got a lot worse, you were circling the drain, I overheard Alex… she was talking to another doctor, I heard her say that. Circling the drain. How…I don’t understand.” He shook his head, feeling absolutely overwhelmed. “I don’t understand how this happened. Or why you didn’t say anything before now! Or what any of this has to do with fucking Parker, which you still have not explained by the way, so I just… Connor. Please. I love you. I need to know. I have to know and I-I don’t understand any of this I - Please help me. Help me understand what happened. Please.”

***

“Connor. Please. I love you. I need to know. I have to know and I-I don’t understand any of this I - Please help me. Help me understand what happened. Please.”

He doesn’t want to do this. 

He doesn’t want to do this but he has to, he has to tell him, because Evan’s begging, he’s begging to know, he’s terrified and confused and Connor can’t…

“My heart stopped,” he says quietly. “During the first experiment. I… I nearly died. They had to… they had to shock me, to restart my heart, and I barely made it.”

Evan stares at him, his eyes wide. 

“I wanted them to try again,” Connor says urgently. “Straight away, to try again, to send me right back because I knew it worked, I knew it would work but they refused. Andi freaked out, she was terrified… terrified I’d die. I’d just… die, and both Connors, me and the one who belonged in that universe, would be gone.”

“Andi?” Evan asks, frowning. “What does…” Something in his face shifts. “You told Andi what happened to you?”

“The other version of Andi,” Connor explains. “The Andi in that reality. She… it wasn’t my choice, I met… there was someone else who’d died who was working with us and…”

“Someone else?” Evan asks sharply. “Who?”

“Her name’s Jenny,” Connor says, his voice small. “I don’t… I kind of know her in this reality, but I don’t, she’s… I edited a book of hers.”

“How did you meet her?” Evan asks, looking straight at Connor.

Connor hesitates. 

Evan lets out this groan of frustration. “Connor, please, please just tell me, none of this is making any fucking sense.”

“I met her in the psych ward,” Connor admits in a rush. “After… when I realized I was stuck, when I realized that you were dead, I knew I needed to get back and I thought that if I…” 

He trails off. 

He can’t he can’t he can’t. 

Evan’s voice is cold. “If you what?”

“Evan.”

“If you what, Connor?”

Connor closes his eyes. He can’t look at Evan. “I thought that if I killed myself, it would send me back home.”

Evan makes this choking noise, like he’s been punched in the chest. 

Connor can’t look at him. 

He needs to just… say it, he realizes. All of it. 

“Andi and Jenny convinced me I needed a better plan, but after the first experiment they got scared. And I… I didn’t… there was no Plan B, I had no other plans, they wouldn’t let me try again and I just… Andi threw a party and I got drunk and I slept with Parker. Because I was… I was a fucking wreck, I was devastated, I thought I’d never get back to you and I-I-I knew I was in a coma in the other reality? I  _ knew. _ And I tried to get back and I couldn’t and I was stuck, I was fucking stuck, and you were dead and I was in a coma and I… I fucking hate myself for it, I’m so fucking sorry, Evan, I’m so fucking sorry I did that, I didn’t… I was so fucking drunk I didn’t…” Connor takes a deep breath. “There’s no excuse. There’s no fucking excuse, I was… there’s no fucking excuse. I’m sorry. I’m so, so, so fucking sorry.”

He finally looks at Evan. 

Who’s pale and trembling, tears running down his face. 

“How did you get back?”

Connor closes his eyes. 

Evan’s voice is more urgent. “How did you get back, Connor?”

Connor can’t look at him. He can’t fucking look at him. 

“The weird scientist guy emailed,” he says quietly. “He had another theory. I… I didn’t tell anyone I was going, I just…”

He takes a deep breath. 

Looks at Evan. 

“I got into a bathtub full of ice and he stopped my heart.”

Evan flinches. Almost violently. 

Connor swallows. Hard. 

“And it worked. It sent me back. Back to you.”


	58. FIFTY-SEVEN

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> "Why would you do something so stupid? You could have died. You almost died."

“I got in a bathtub full of ice and he stopped my heart.”

Evan flinched. Connor hated bathtubs, Connor avoided them, they’d ripped the old one out of the bathroom… 

His heart had stopped. 

It stopped. 

That was without a doubt the most horrifying, troubling, terrible thought. 

“And it worked. It sent me back. Back to you.”

Evan blinked a few times, trying to understand what he was being told, trying to understand but he didn’t, he didn’t understand at all…

“Why the hell would you do something like that?” Evan asked, his voice hardly more than a hoarse whisper. 

Connor’s brow wrinkled, like he was confused. “I had to get back to you.”

Evan shook his head. “No that’s… Why would you do something so stupid? You could have died. You almost died… You could have -”

“It wasn’t my reality,” Connor said, almost stubbornly. “I couldn’t be there, I couldn’t stay there.”

“But you… we. You only came back seconds,  _ seconds  _ before they were going to take you off of life support,” He cried. “You almost didn’t make it, you almost… I… That was so fucking stupid Connor why the hell would you do that?”

“Because I… I had to try.”

Evan’s heart was going to burst, he was going to be sick, his brain was not taking in this information, it just wasn’t, that wasn’t it was wrong it was so wrong… Connor wouldn’t do something that stupid, that reckless, he wouldn’t risk everything for Evan. 

Or he shouldn’t, at least. He shouldn’t have. 

“Why would you - I love you. You could have died. You could have actually died, you had no way of knowing, you almost did -”

“I had to try.” He looked Evan directly in the eye. 

“It was a stupid risk.”

“It was worth it,” Connor said firmly.

Evan shook his head, almost violently, because he couldn’t… he couldn’t hear this, he could not handle this, he couldn’t he couldn’t he… “No. I don’t want that,” Evan said, his voice coming out broken and quiet. “I don’t want you to risk yourself for me. I’m not worth that, I’d never want that.”

“You don’t…” Connor looked crushed, utterly devastated. “I’m sorry I thought… I promised I’d… You don’t want me?”

Evan shook his head. “That not what… No. I’m  _ not  _ saying that I’m saying I… I love you. I love you so much but I am  _ not  _ worth that effort, that pain, that... “ His eyes flooded again. “I’m not worth that.”

“Of course you are.”

Evan felt sick, sick, sick… Connor was so wrong, he was so beyond wrong, he had wrecked his body and fucked with his mind and he had… He’d killed himself to come back. Connor could call it an experiment all he wanted, but he had allowed himself to be tortured and killed all in the pursuit of coming back here and Evan knew, in his core, in his bones, that he was not worth that kind of effort. He knew that. 

“What about… about your family? What about Andi and… and Jenny? Do you know what happened to them when you disappeared? Do you know if the… the Connor from that timeline, universe, whatever… if he even lived?”

Connor hung his head. “I’m not sure he did.”

Evan hung his head. 

More blood on his hands. More blood spilled in his name. 

“I came back,” Connor said desperately. “I came back… I love you and I knew I belonged here, with you. So I came back. I came back to you.”

“You can’t… You can’t fucking kill yourself for me and expect me to be okay with that,” Evan said and he was still shaking so hard, still shaking so badly. He felt sick, he felt so fucking sick.

“That’s not what -”

“You can’t… I can’t. I can’t, Connor, please… I don’t understand. I’m not worth all of that. I’m not…” Evan wiped his face. “I am so fucking sorry.”

“You’re… what?” Connor looked distraught, he looked so pale and so hurt. 

“I should have never made you promise something so stupid,” Evan said. “I should have never… I was just freaked out, I didn’t mean it, I just want you safe that’s all I want I never wanted you to be hurt or-or-or to do that I don’t… I can’t… I can’t believe you’d do that. I don’t want that I don’t want it I. You can’t do that kind of stupid, reckless, dangerous stuff just for me okay? You can’t. I am so glad you’re back and that you’re mostly in one piece but you… You risked too much. You shouldn’t have done that, not for me.”

“I -” Connor began to protest. 

“Were you ever going to tell me?” Evan asked, his heart in his throat., his voice barely more than a whisper. 

* * *

“Were you ever going to tell me?” Evan asks, his voice so quiet, so quiet Connor can barely hear it, and he’s shaking and he looks sick and it’s Connor’s fault, Connor did this. 

Connor doesn’t know what to say. 

So he doesn’t. 

Not for a long moment. 

Evan looks at him. Lets out this horrible half-laugh. 

“I don’t know,” Connor admits finally. “I… I was starting to think that I might have just dreamed the whole thing. That… that it wasn’t real.”

Evan’s gaze sharpens. He looks so fucking hurt. 

“You had hypothermia,” he says, his voice shaking. “When you came back, you had hypothermia, and the doctors didn’t understand, it didn’t make any fucking sense. You were in the hospital, how the fuck did you end up hypothermic?” He glares at Connor. “But it does make sense. It makes sense if you-you fucking died in a bathtub full of ice!”

“I didn’t-”

“You did,” Evan says fiercely, his eyes swimming with tears. “You… fuck, why won’t you accept that, why won’t you-”

“What was I supposed to do?” Connor demands, pleads, because he doesn’t know, he’s so fucking lost, he knew Evan wouldn’t like what he did but he didn’t know he’d hate it this much, he never though Evan would wish that he hadn’t done it. “Just stay there without you?”

“If it kept you from dying, then yes!” 

“Then I would have died here,” Connor points out stubbornly. “I would have… you wouldn’t have known I was alive somewhere else. It wouldn’t have made any fucking difference to you. I had to try, Evan, I had to try, because you… you are  _ everything _ to me, you’re everything-”

Evan’s shaking his head. “It was stupid and reckless and you could have died.”

“I’d have died anyway,” Connor says, trying to be gentle but failing, failing so miserably. “I’d have… either I died in this universe or in that one. Those were… those were my only options, and I picked this universe. I picked you.”

Evan looks at him, his eyes big and hurt and wet, and he’s shaking, he’s shaking so much, and Connor wants to reach out, reach out and touch him. 

He reaches out his hand. 

Evan recoils. 

Connor feels it like a stab to the heart. 

“The first experiment,” Evan says after a moment. “It… it nearly killed you in both universes, Connor. If you… if you hadn’t done it, then maybe you’d have… you’d have woken up here on your own. You’d have gotten better. We wouldn’t have had to pull the plug if you hadn’t-”

Connor feels sick. “You don’t know that,” he interrupts. 

Evan shakes his head. “It would have been fine,” he insists stubbornly. “It would have… you were breathing on your own, your brain activity was good, it was all okay until you flatlined, until you stopped breathing, because of that experiment. And then it was… then it was out of our hands, then we had to follow your wishes in your fucking will-”

“You helped me write that will,” Connor can’t help but interrupt, and regrets instantly, because Evan’s so pale he’s almost gray and looks like he could throw up. 

“I know I did,” Evan whispers. “Do you think I don’t know that? Do you think I haven’t fucking kicked myself every day, hated myself for letting you do that?”

“I didn’t know,” Connor pleads. “I didn’t know I was in a coma here, not until the experiment. I didn’t know that the timing didn’t match up, I… I didn’t know it had only been a few weeks here, not months like it was for me.”

Evan shakes his head. “It doesn’t matter.”

“Be honest,” Connor says firmly, looking Evan in the eye. “If I’d been in a coma for months instead of weeks. What would it have done to you?”

Evan just stares at him, shaking. 

He shakes his head. “I…”

“You’re not okay,” Connor says, and his voice is shaking, too. “You’re not okay and I am so, so fucking sorry, I’m so sorry I… I’m so sorry for all of it, but I can’t… I can’t regret trying to come back to you.” He swallows, hard. “Even if you don’t want me-”

“Of course I want you,” Evan interrupts firmly. “Of course I… of course… I love you, Connor, I love you so fucking much but I need you to understand that you-you-you can’t risk yourself for me like that, you can’t do it, I won’t let you, you can’t do it again if anything like this ever happened again you cannot do that, do you understand?”

Part of Connor wants to just agree. 

Just let Evan have this, say that it’s okay and just… end this conversation. 

“I’d do it all again,” Connor says slowly. “I would do all of it again to get back to you, Evan. I can’t promise that I wouldn’t, I’m sorry.”

Evan lets out this long, shaky breath. 

Connor doesn’t know how he can fix this. 

“I love you,” he says quietly. “I love you, Evan, I  _ love _ you. There’s nothing that I wouldn’t do for you. No matter what it cost me.”

* * *

“You’d do all of it again?” Evan repeated, his voice hollow. “Even Parker?”

He didn’t know why he said that. 

He didn’t know what was wrong with him, he didn’t know what made him like this but all he could think about what how badly this hurt, how fucked up this was, and how unfuckingfair it felt that Connor had lied to him and lied to him and risked his life and been so stupid and then waited weeks to tell Evan about it. 

Evan just. 

Wanted to hurt him back. 

Connor was in tears. “I… Not that, no, I’m so sorry. I am so sorry.” He tried to reach out for Evan’s hand and Evan jerked away suddenly. 

“Don’t… Please don’t touch me right now.” 

Connor looked crushed, but he pulled his hand back. “Alright. I’m sorry.” 

Evan ran a shaky hand over his face. Tried to take a deep breath. He wasn’t getting enough air. He reached for the knot of his tie, tugging it apart frantically, needing to get it off of him just get it off of him and Connor was watching him with these big helpless, I’ll-kill-myself-for-you eyes and Evan’s stomach turned. 

“I’m going to be sick,” He mumbled, and then he rushed to the bathroom where he could throw up in private. 

This was bad. 

This was so fucking bad. 

How had… 

He didn’t deserve this. Evan had always known that he didn’t deserve Connor, but know it was confirmed, now it was altogether so obvious, now he knew without a shadow of a doubt. 

And he knew that Connor didn’t trust him. 

If he trusted Evan, none of this would have been a secret. 

If he trusted Evan… 

Evan stood up. Flushed the toilet. Rinsed out his mouth. 

He was no good for Connor. He was no good. 

And Evan wondered. 

Just for a second. 

If maybe Connor wasn’t good for him either. 

If he could lie about this… Lie about dying, if he didn’t see the problem with killing himself for Evan…

It wasn’t great. This whole situation was just. Fucked. Utterly fucked. 

Evan wiped his face, opening the bathroom door. Connor was standing just outside of the bathroom door, his face anxious and pale. “I am so fucking sorry,” Connor said, his eyes pleading. “I really… I know how badly I fucked up with Parker. I know. There’s no excuse for that and I am so fucking sorry.”

Evan nodded. 

Pulled Connor in for a hug. 

“But I’m not sorry I came back.”

Evan kept holding onto him, unable to look him in the eye, not able to see his big sad eyes, unable to look at him or let him apologize again. “No. No of course not. I am so glad you came back. You are… I am so glad you came back. Of course I’m glad you came back. I love you.”

Connor sighed, sagging against Evan a little. “I love you.”

Evan kissed the side of Connor’s head. 

“I love you,” Evan repeated, his eyes tearing again. “I love you I love you I love you I love you.”


	59. FIFTY-EIGHT

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> "There’s no way to prove that it’s impossible."

There’s a part of Connor that’s relieved that Evan knows the truth. 

A small part. 

Most of him is just devastated. 

Because Evan was just… so horrified by it. Horrified by the lengths that Connor went through to get back to him. 

To get back home. 

Connor promised. He promised he’d do whatever it took to get back to Evan, he promised back in February, back on the two year anniversary of the loops, he promised that he’d do whatever it took. 

And Evan… didn’t want that. 

Evan had just looked so fucking horrified by what Connor had done. 

And Connor…

A part of him still wants to believe it was a weird dream. 

But he can’t deny it anymore. Can’t keep pretending. Not when he knows that what happened to them two and a half years ago wasn’t a dream. 

Not when strange, horrible, unreal things aren’t out of the ordinary for them. 

Not when Andi’s telling him that he’s described her dad perfectly when Connor’s never met either of Andi’s parents. He vaguely knew both of her parents were academics but he hadn’t known exactly what either of them studied. 

Honestly, he’d kind of always assumed that Andi just popped out of the ground like a mushroom, fully formed into the beautiful weirdo she is. 

Evan’s in the office on Tuesday, claiming important meetings with clients, and Connor doesn’t know if he believes him. Doesn’t know if Evan’s just avoiding him. 

Andi visits and brings him lunch after texting Connor to check in. 

In classic Andi fashion, she shows up with garlic bread and a pineapple. 

They sit in the living room and eat garlic bread and pineapple and Edgar curls up on Connor’s shoulder and Andi pets him and tells him he’s beautiful and offers to make him hash brownies. 

Connor’s kind of tempted, because he’s still so fucking sore, he’s still in so much pain, but he doesn’t know if he’s comfortable being high right now. 

If he’s comfortable being high around Evan. 

It’s a weird feeling. 

He just…

Fuck. He’s fucked everything up. 

Completely fucked everything up. 

“This scientist,” Andi says after a while on the Tuesday. “What was his name again?”

“Dr. Weekes,” Connor says, a little wearily. 

“I’ll ask my dad about him.”

“Please don’t.”

Andi frowns. Looks at him. “Don’t you want to know more about this?”

“Honestly? No. I want to pretend it never happened.” 

Andi’s expression softens. “Babe, I don’t think you can.” 

Connor shakes his head. “I…”

“What you’re saying sounds impossible,” Andi says gently, “but it fits. It all fits and… no one really understands comas at all. There’s no way to prove that it’s impossible. There’s no way to definitively say that you weren’t in another reality.”

“What about the other Connor?” he asks, his voice barely above a whisper. “There had to be another Connor, right? The one who belongs in that reality. Did I… did I kill him?”

Andi’s eyes are wide. “You did what you had to do.”

Connor shakes his head. “I… I didn’t tell you,” he admits, feeling shame pool in his stomach. “The other you. I didn’t tell you I was going, I just got in a Lyft to fucking New Jersey and I…” He takes a deep breath. Lets it out in a long, shaky shudder. “If I was in a coma here and alive there, then I came back here, the other Connor has to be dead. Or unconscious or… fuck, I know he’s probably dead.” He blinks a few times, trying not to cry. “Andi, I’m so fucking sorry, I was such an asshole to you, the other you, I’m so fucking sorry.”

Andi pulls him into a hug and this time, it’s a little more like her bone-crushing ones. “It’s okay,” she says, her voice soothing. “Babe, it’s okay, you’re back, you’re back where you belong, I’m so glad you’re here.”

“I just keep thinking about the other you,” Connor confesses. “You… you didn’t want to lose me. You… you might not know what happened? You might never know, I’d have just disappeared, that’s… that’s awful, I’m so sorry.”

Andi pulls away and looks at Connor, her expression solemn. “You didn’t belong in that universe,” she says, her voice quiet but firm. “Whatever happened to the Connor that does belong in that universe is not your fault.”

Connor wipes his face. 

Something occurs to him. 

“In the other universe,” Connor says slowly. “You told me that you saw thirty-three applicants for my room. When we lived together. Is that true?”

Andi’s eyes widen in surprise. “It is,” she says. “Did I never tell you that?”

Connor shakes his head. 

“Huh,” says Andi, looking thoughtful. She smiles at him, all dazzling white teeth. “You’re special, you know that, right? You’re my favorite man person.” 

Connor actually laughs at that. “I want to say you’re my favorite lesbian, but I do really love Maureen.”

Andi nods, like that makes sense. “What’s not to love about Maureen? She is a cutie pie.” She grins. “And a very generous lover.”

Connor stares at her. “Wait, when did you sleep with Maureen?”

Andi looks like she’s trying to remember. “Last Thanksgiving, I think? I came to visit you in November, she saw me with my tits out, we exchanged numbers, one thing led to another…”

“Oh my god.”

“It was lovely,” Andi says, with this fond expression. “After we were done, I made her some garlic bread and she got drunk and cried about how she was in love with her workmate but she was super confused about it because she thought she was a lesbian and they weren’t a girl.” 

“Oh my god.”

“Did she ever actually tell Jax how she felt?” Andi asks, seeming genuinely curious. “Poor thing was really cut up about it.” 

“Actually, yeah,” says Connor with a grin. “They’re together now.”

“Wonderful,” says Andi with a grin of her own. “When did that happen?”

Connor feels his grin fade. “The day I woke up.”

Andi sticks around a little longer, long enough for Evan to come home. He seems surprised to see Andi, and a little annoyed. Andi picks up on it and makes herself scarce, kissing Connor on the cheek and waving goodbye to Evan, gathering up her things in record time. 

When it’s just Evan and Connor, it feels… 

Off. 

It doesn’t feel right. 

Evan looks at Connor, his expression neutral. “I’d like to know exactly what you told Andi,” Evan says in this even tone. “About me.”

“I didn’t tell her about the loops,” Connor says immediately. 

Evan visibly relaxes. “You didn’t?”

Connor shakes his head. “No, it… I told her that I thought it was a dream about another reality, I…” He feels a chill go through him. “I… I told her that I talked you off the roof.”

Evan tenses up again. “You… you did?”

“I’m so fucking sorry,” Connor blurts out. “I know that wasn’t mine to tell-”

“It wasn’t,” Evan says flatly. 

They stand there in silence for what feels like a long time. 

“I’ll heat up the rest of lasagna Gladys dropped off,” Evan says finally. “That sound okay?”

Connor nods. 

They have dinner. 

He takes his meds and gets an early night. 

He’s still so fucking cold. 

* * *

Connor saw Praveed today. Evan had seen him off to the appointment. Usually, Connor would walk. Before he got sick, Connor would walk. Today he took a Lyft. He said he was feeling better, feeling stronger, feeling pretty good, actually. He’d been up and walking without needing to rest or sit for a few hours earlier in the morning. He’d been smiling and showing his teeth and talking about maybe cooking dinner later, if Evan didn’t mind running to the store for him?

Evan had run as soon as Connor got into the car. It was a fast trip, but to be on the safe side, Evan stocked Connor’s cabinets and fridge. Easy quick things. So he’d know Connor was eating. 

Evan didn’t want to do this. 

But he had to. 

It was the only way he could know Connor wouldn’t do something this stupid and self-destructive again. The only way. 

His heart ached in his chest. He didn’t want to do this. He really really didn’t.

The dresser that belonged to Evan in Connor’s bedroom was something they had found secondhand a few weeks after Connor’s twenty-ninth birthday. They’d argued over who got to pay for it. Evan had won. He liked the way it still smelled like cedar, the way it made his clothes smell vaguely woodsy when he left them in there for a while. 

He cleaned out the drawers methodically. First underwear, socks, ties. He left behind the blue one he had worn to Sabrina’s wedding. That was Connor’s, really. He’d just lent it to Evan. 

Then jeans and t-shirts. They had all been neatly folded and stored, so it was easy to move them into the suitcase. The final drawer was harder. Sweats, t-shirts, and pajamas… A lot of the stuff in this drawer had gotten mixed in with Connor’s things. He unearthed an old Columbia t-shirt. Connor’s. He folded it back up and put it away with Connor’s things. Took back his NYU School of Law shirt. Sorted and folded and packed up until the dresser was empty. 

Evan took the suits hanging in the closet and laid them on top of the suitcase. Zipped it closed tightly. 

Collected his other things. 

His meds on the bedside table. His laptop. A book on botany he had been reading sometimes when he couldn’t sleep. His watch. 

That was it for the bedroom. 

Evan turned off the light and steered the suitcase out of there. 

He went to the bathroom next. Collected his deodorant, his hair gel, his shampoo. 

Stopped and stared at the blue toothbrush Connor had bought for him, left in the holder by the sink. Evan’s toothbrush that lived next to Connor’s. 

Better to cut all ties, he decided, feeling unsteady, feeling his heart shattering as the toothbrush clanged shallowly against the metal of the wastepaper basket in the bathroom. His hands had begun to shake. Evan thought he had gotten out all of his tears already, but apparently he was wrong. 

He just kept telling himself that it was better this way. Kept telling himself it was safer to keep Connor far as fuck away from him. He was a bomb about to go off. He had gunpowder in his veins, explosives strapped to his chest, he had… 

He had to get the fuck over himself. 

Man up and do the right thing for once in his fucking miserable life. 

Evan had a shaky seat at the kitchen table after doing one final sweep of the apartment for anything else that might have been his. He’d gathered up all of it. 

So he waited. 

And while he waited, Evan fiddled with his keys. To the bookstore. To the apartment above the bookstore. Keys Connor had given him not too long after they began dating officially, keys he used to let himself in and out of Connor’s life as he so chose.

He slowly, intentionally, pulled them off of his keyring one by one. 

Placed them softly on the table. 

His hands were shaking. 

_ Coward coward coward coward.  _

Evan could hear Connor greeting Maureen downstairs. Checking in about the store, seeing if she needed help with anything, seeing how she was. Evan tried to gather himself. Steel himself. Straighten out his shoulders, prepare for what he knew would be a fight. 

He had to do this, Evan reminded himself. He had to do it. There was no other way. No other way. 

Edgar bounded up the stairs ahead of Connor. He raced immediately to Evan, clamored up the leg of his pants, meowing and purring and demanding attention. Evan stroked Edgar’s head with numb fingers then gently moved him off of his lap. Onto the ground, just in time for Connor to push open the door. 

He was smiling, and he looked tired but no more so that usual. Connor started to say something, hello, a greeting, something normal and common, but then Evan watched as his eyes fell to the suitcase and something in his expression shifted. 

Went dim. 

“You going somewhere?” Connor asked him softly. 

“We need to talk,” Evan returned, his voice dull. Flat. 


	60. FIFTY-NINE

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> "There’s nothing here worth fixing."

It doesn’t make any fucking sense, seeing Evan sitting at the kitchen table, like he’s waiting for him, sitting there with a suitcase and these dead, dull eyes, the same dead eyes that Connor remembers from the night he found him on the roof, the night he got alcohol poisoning…

The night of Sabrina and Graham’s wedding. 

“You going somewhere?” Connor asks, hating how quiet his voice comes out. 

“We need to talk,” Evan replies. His voice is flat, dull, dead, like his eyes, and Connor feels a chill go through him. 

Connor sits down at the kitchen table across from him. “Okay,” he says, reaching out for Evan’s hands like he always would, only for Evan to pull them away. “Let’s talk. What’s going on?”

Evan blinks. Looks Connor straight in the eye. “I can’t do this anymore.”

Connor’s cold. 

He’s so fucking cold. 

“Do what?”

“This,” Evan says. “Us. This relationship. I can’t. Not when you clearly don’t trust me.”

Connor feels this shock, this rush of cold, just like when he got into the bathtub. 

Just like it. 

“Of course I trust you,” Connor says, and Evan shakes his head, interrupting before he can continue. 

“You don’t,” Evan says firmly. “You didn’t tell me what happened to you for weeks. You weren’t ever going to tell me, I had to overhear you telling somebody else.”

“I was going to tell you!” Connor insists, his heart starting to beat too fast, too too fast. “Just… not until things were better, not until I was better, not until you weren’t so…”

“So what?” Evan asks, in that same dull voice. “You thought I couldn’t handle it. That’s what this is, you thought I couldn’t handle it, you couldn’t trust me not to lose it, and if you can’t trust me with this then what else are you hiding, Connor?”

“Nothing else,” Connor says desperately. “Nothing else, I swear, there’s nothing else-”

“It doesn’t matter,” Evan says firmly, standing up. “Even if that’s true, how can I possibly believe you?”

“Because you know me,” Connor replies, equally as firm. “You know that I wouldn’t-”

“I don’t,” Evan interrupts. “I don’t know that, because you did, you lied to me, straight to my face.”

“So that’s it?” Connor demands. “One strike and I’m out? Evan, I’m sorry, I’m so fucking sorry, I didn’t tell you because I knew it would hurt you, I knew it sounded unbelievable and crazy and I-I-I I wanted it to have just been a dream. I wanted it not to have happened, I wanted it not to be real and telling you would have made it real.”

“But you could tell Andi,” Evan says, and his voice is so even, so calm, so fucking calm, and Connor hates it. 

“Evan, please don’t do this,” Connor pleads, begs. “I love you. I love you, I love you so fucking much and you… you love me, you said you loved me.”

“Connor, I don’t want to argue with you about this.”

“Evan, please.”

“Connor-”

“Do you still love me?” Connor demands. Evan doesn’t say anything, just looks at him with those dead, dull, hopeless eyes, and Connor hates it, he hates it, he hates it so much. Evan doesn’t say anything, so Connor tries again, hating how his voice breaks. “Did you _ever_ love me?”

Evan’s voice wavers, ever so slightly, when he finally replies. 

“I… I can’t trust you, Connor. And you can’t trust me. So this isn’t… it isn’t going to work.”

* * *

This was the hardest thing Evan had ever done. The hardest thing. Passing the bar while dying was a piece of cake next to this. This was… 

Excruciating. 

Evan used to think people who waxed poetic about the pain of heartbreak were being melodramatic, but now he saw they had underplayed it. This was the worst pain. The only thing that beat it out was the few seconds when the doctors prepared to remove Connor from the ventilator in the hospital. 

Given the choice, Evan would choose to hurt himself a million times if it meant sparing Connor. He had to spare him this. 

“I’m sorry,” Connor said, and he sounded so desperate, his eyes big and glassy and flooded with tears. “I’m sorry I didn’t tell you, I’m sorry, please just don’t just don’t do this we can…” His voice died. 

“I’m sorry too,” Evan said. “If I had been better for you, none of this would… I’m sorry. I warned you that I was like this. That I was always going to be like this.”

Connor, if possible, went even more pale. He looked ill, he looked grayish and Evan hated himself for doing this to him, he hated himself, _coward coward coward coward_ but this needed to happen if he wanted to keep Connor safe, keep him alive. “Please don’t go. We can… I’ll be… _Please_ ”

“I know that this is the first time you’ve done this,” Evan said quietly. His voice was not his voice, his lips were forming words that weren’t Evan’s, but if he didn’t do this right then… 

He had to finish it. Clean break. If he did a hack job he would just make it worse. So much worse. 

“But people break up, Connor. You know this. Your parents are divorced and so are mine… We were fooling ourselves if we thought we might be different.”

“Please don’t say that,” Connor begged. “Please don’t… I love you please don’t.”

“I contacted a former classmate of mine from law school if you need any legal help with the bookstore,” Evan went on, his voice even and he knew this was cruel, he knew he knew he knew and inside Evan was screaming and sobbing and shaking and losing it totally but he just. He had to get through this. “I left his card for you with the account information -”

“Evan please,” Connor said, openly weeping. “I only did it to get back here… I only did it -”

“Because you do things without thinking,” Evan said dully. “You never think about how your actions impact other people. You made some big heroic return, sure, and I got stuck taking care of you in the aftermath.”

Connor recoiled like Evan had slapped him. 

“Do you have any idea how exhausting it is to take care of you day in and day out? Do you have any concept of how unbelievably boring it is, babysitting you and making sure you eat and sleep and shower? Because sure, you fought hard to come back, but you never spared a single thought about what it would do to me.”

Connor began to sob, loudly, these big heaving breaths, these hiccuping inhales, his face streaked with tears. “I’m sorry, I’m sorry, I’m so fucking sorry please just don’t go just don’t please _please_ I love you I love you. I love you please. Please we can… we can fix this, can’t we? Just _please_ don’t-”

“I have to go,” Evan said softly. “I’m sorry about this.”

Connor looked up at him tearfully. “Did you ever love me?” He repeated, as if Evan hadn’t heard him before, as if that hadn’t gutted him before. 

“We don’t trust each other anymore,” Evan said, and his voice wobbled ever so slightly, his eyes stung. “I don’t trust you, and you don’t trust me. There’s nothing here worth fixing. So I think we’re done here.” He stood up. Straightened his shoulders. Picked up his bag. “Take care of yourself. Be safe.” 

_I love you._

_I love you so much that I have to do this because I can’t let you hurt yourself more for me. I love you and I’m so sorry. I’m sorry._

_I love you._

It was the hardest thing Evan had ever done. 

He left. 

* * *

  
  


The front door to his apartment closes with this awful, echoing click, and it’s not loud, it’s not a loud noise but it’s final, it’s heartbreaking, it’s not supposed to be like this, it’s not. 

Connor can’t…

Fuck, he’s shaking, he can’t stop shaking because that…

“This can’t be real,” he says aloud. 

It just… 

It can’t. 

This doesn’t make sense, it doesn’t make any fucking sense, he…

Evan’s gone. 

He’s gone. 

He left. He just left he packed up his things and he left, he left, after everything Connor did to get back to him he left. 

He doesn’t…

_“Do you still love me? Did you ever love me?”_

_“I… I can’t trust you, Connor. And you can’t trust me. So this isn’t… it isn’t going to work.”_

It’s getting harder and harder to breathe, harder and harder to stay standing, so Connor sits at the kitchen table and tries to catch his breath, tries to make some fucking sense of all of this. 

They were… fuck, they were at Sabrina’s wedding barely a week ago, they were happy, Evan had kissed him, kissed him like he meant it, he’d told Connor that he loved him, asked him not to go anywhere and now…

He left. 

Evan’s gone. 

Connor’s aware that Edgar’s meowing like crazy, rubbing his face on Connor’s ankles, nipping at the legs of his jeans, and all the sound in the room comes rushing back in and he…

Fuck, he can’t stop shaking. He shouldn’t…

He shouldn’t be alone right now. 

Connor fishes his phone out of his pocket and with shaking hands hits his sister’s contact. 

She answers almost immediately. 

“Hey Connor.”

“Evan’s gone.”

There’s silence on the other end. 

“Where are you?” Zoe says after a moment, her voice steady and even. “Tell me what happened.”

“I’m… I’m at my apartment, he… he’s gone, Zoe, he’s gone.”

“Tell me what happened,” she repeats, her voice more insistent. “Are you… are you sure, have you called anyone, did you call 911?”

There’s this horrible sinking feeling as Connor realizes what Zoe’s saying. 

Zoe thinks that Evan…

Thinks that Connor found Evan…

“He left,” Connor says, trying to explain. “He… he-he-he packed up all his stuff and he left, he said he couldn’t trust me and I didn’t trust him and he… he left, he… fuck, I didn’t mean that he… I didn’t mean to scare you like that, fuck, he’s fine, he’s fine, it’s fine it’s fine he just left, he just doesn’t want me I…” Connor lets out this shaky breath. Shakes his head. “Fuck, I’m sorry, I’m just-”

“I’ll be there as soon as I can,” Zoe says immediately. “As soon as I fucking can, okay?”

“I didn’t mean to scare you I didn’t-”

“He left,” Zoe interrupts, sounding… scared and angry and so, so fucking sad. “He left you alone, you’re… you’ve barely been out of hospital a month, holy _fuck_ Connor, I… okay, I’ll be there soon, I just sent a text to Maureen, she’s heading up until I arrive, okay? I need to get some things on the way but I’ll be there as soon as I can.”

Connor can hear footsteps coming up the stairs. Sees the door to his apartment open. There’s Maureen, her eyes wide and sad and confused. 

“Maureen’s here,” Connor says weakly. “I… I’ll see you soon.”

With that, he ends the call. 

Closes his eyes. 

He’s so fucking embarrassed, this is so fucking embarrassing, but he almost doesn’t care because…

This is wrong it’s wrong it’s wrong it’s wrong it isn’t supposed to be like this. 

Maureen comes and sits next to him at the kitchen table and puts her hand on his shoulder, squeezing it gently. 

Connor’s aware that he’s crying. He can’t remember when he started. 

He can’t imagine ever stopping. 

He’s just…

This is wrong. 

It isn’t supposed to be like this. 

He knows, deep in his bones, that this is wrong, somehow. It’s just wrong. 

They’re not supposed to be apart. He and Evan are not supposed to be apart. 

Evan’s it for him, he’s… he’s everything, and this isn’t…

It doesn’t make sense. 

“I know it doesn’t,” says Maureen, her voice soft and sad. “I’m so, so sorry, Connor, I’m just so sorry.”

Edgar climbs up on his shoulder and lets out this pitiful little meow, then rubs his nose against Connor’s face, and he cries harder. 

He cries and cries and cries until he can’t cry anymore, until he’s completely exhausted himself, and doesn’t even notice that Zoe’s here until she’s basically carried him into his room and put him to bed like he’s a kid, like he’s completely lost it, and she pushes his hair out of his eyes and kisses him on the forehead and reminds Connor so much of their mom, so much, he’s just.

He’s so fucking tired. 

So fucking tired. 


	61. SIXTY

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> “When did you stop loving me?”

Evan threw up in a trash can the moment he left the bookstore. He shook from head to toe, feeling horrible and achy and guilty and stupid so fucking stupid. 

A car horn sounded, screaming, and Evan thought about throwing himself in front of it for a moment. 

But then he thought perhaps he didn’t deserve the relief of killing himself. 

He hoped he had saved Connor. He hoped like hell he had saved Connor. 

Even if it meant he was the worst kind of person, the most toxic and callous and heartless and cowardly sort of person. 

_Coward coward coward coward coward._

Evan just needed to be sure that Connor was safe. And safe was… as far away from Evan as possible. Evan was a black hole. He destroyed everything he touched. Everything he loved, Evan ruined. Broke. 

He had broken Connor. 

He had broken him. Evan had made Connor love him and it had landed him broken, hurt, in a coma and then worse, in another reality. 

This was on him and he was… 

Taking himself out of the picture. When someone had a cancerous growth, you removed it. When someone had a boyfriend who kept almost killing them… You got rid of the boyfriend. 

Evan was taking himself out of the picture. 

But it didn’t make it any less painful, knowing this was a net good. 

Nobody ever talked about how the tumor felt about being surgically excised. 

Nobody owed anything to the tumor. 

Evan went back to his apartment. 

The suitcase sat untouched for the rest of the night. 

He couldn’t bear to look at it. 

Evan wasn’t sure he could bear this at all. It hurt so much. So much. It hurt so acutely, so viscerally that it was beyond tears, beyond wailing and screaming, beyond gnashing teeth and sobs. 

It was just a blank, white-hot, all-consuming pain. 

Torture. 

Evan got out of bed. He left his apartment and walked himself to a liquor store. Not Andre’s, no, that was too risky. He went elsewhere and bought two cheap bottles of whisky. Paid cash. Headed back to his apartment, back to his bedroom, and started drinking because he needed not to feel this. 

He’d hurt Connor more than he’d expected. 

He’d hurt himself more than he’d expected. 

Evan had hoped that maybe he just wouldn’t feel it. It would have been easier if he hadn’t felt it. He stared at the packed up suitcase and just kept drinking. Drinking and trying to forget. 

Connor was better off without him. He was better off. 

Evan couldn’t protect Connor if he was the one who was causing all of the hurt, so he left. He left he’d left him. 

Evan had thought it might be like with Sabrina. A resignation, a relief, to be free from hurting someone just by virtue of being who he was. 

But this was nothing like when he left Sabrina. 

It hurt so much worse. 

Evan thought his heart, the actual physical organ, might just crack down the middle. That he might crack down the middle, might disintegrate into a pile of rubble. 

It hurt so much. 

He’d broken his own heart and he’d done it for a good reason but it didn’t make it feel better. It didn’t make any of it better. Evan drank and drank, until he fell asleep, until he couldn’t hear Connor’s voice echoing, begging, anymore. 

* * *

When Connor wakes up, there’s someone sitting on Evan’s side of the bed. 

It takes his heart a moment to catch up, to realize that it isn’t Evan. 

It’s Zoe, on her laptop, in her pajamas, her hair in a messy bun. She looks like she’s been crying. 

He rolls over a little to look at her and she immediately notices and shuts her laptop.

“Hey,” she says, her voice gentle. “How are you feeling?”

Connor feels himself tearing up again. 

He tries to ignore it. 

“I’m okay,” he says, lies, whatever. 

Zoe looks devastated. “I know you’re not,” she says gently. “But how are you feeling, you know, physically? How are the pain levels? You’re still healing.”

Connor considers. Tries to gauge how he’s feeling. 

“I… I can’t tell,” he says after a moment. “I’m just… I can’t tell, I’m sorry.”

Zoe blinks a few times. “Okay,” she says quietly. “Maybe you should eat something, then take your meds and go back to sleep. Okay?”

Connor does what he’s told. 

To the letter. 

He doesn’t know what the fuck else to do. 

He feels like he’s on autopilot, feels like he’s existing outside of his body and just watching everything happen below him, completely detached. 

It should be a horrifying feeling, but he’s just kind of numb. 

Part of him thinks that he’ll wake up and find out this isn’t real. 

None of this is real. 

He eats some heated up leftover curry, then takes his meds, then goes back to bed. 

For a moment, he’s worried that he won’t sleep. 

He’s sure he won’t sleep. 

But he does. 

Connor can see himself.

He’s in his apartment, lounging on top of his bed, reading a book in a t-shirt, sweatpants and no shoes. He looks healthy. Maybe a little thinner than usual, but not as thin as he knows he does now. He doesn’t have such dark circles under his eyes. 

He doesn’t look as much like a fucking Tim Burton character. His t-shirt is red, this worn-out red shirt that he likes to sleep in because it’s soft and comfortable. 

And Evan’s sitting next to him. 

He’s in shorts and his NYU Law t-shirt, and he’s on his laptop, hard at work. The other Connor is engrossed in his book for a while, but after a moment he stops and starts watching Evan, this soft, fond smile on his face. 

Neither Evan nor the Connor on the bed notice the Connor who’s watching. 

It takes what feels like forever for Evan to notice the Connor on the bed is looking at him, but when he does he kind of laughs. “What?”

“Just watching you,” says the other Connor, with this happy smile that makes Connor’s heart hurt a little. “Thinking about how wonderful you are.”

Evan rolls his eyes, but he’s smiling, this big, bright smile that lights up the room. He looks rested and happy, healthy and strong, not exhausted and sad like he has the past few months. 

He looks beautiful. 

So fucking beautiful. 

“You feeling okay?” Evan asks the other Connor, mild concern in his eyes. “Not too dizzy or anything today?”

The other Connor rolls his eyes. “I’m fine,” he says, then leans over and kisses Evan firmly. “You worry too much.”

“I worry just enough,” Evan counters with his own eye roll. “The exact right amount of worry about the fact that my boyfriend faints like a Victorian heroine if he hasn’t had enough iron.”

The other Connor looks embarrassed. “I am really sorry about that,” he says in this apologetic tone. “I kind of thought that was, like, over? I hadn’t really had any problems with my iron levels since senior year of high school, so it wasn’t exactly on my mind.”

Evan looks worried. “I know you weren’t trying to scare me, Connor.” He lets out this shaky kind of laugh. “It just… it reminded me of the loops, of when you collapsed in your apartment and I caught you and...” Evan’s lower lip trembles a little, and the other Connor reaches out and takes his hand. Squeezes it tightly.

“I’m sorry,” says the other Connor, reaching out and brushing Evan’s hair off his face, then kissing his cheek gently. “I’ll eat all of the iron, I promise. No more swooning damsel bullshit, okay?”

“I’m gonna hold you to that,” says Evan, his tone a little too serious to be completely teasing, and the other Connor nods. Makes an exaggerated ‘cross my heart’ gesture. Evan laughs. “You are… such a dork, oh my god.”

The other Connor grins, then reaches out and closes Evan’s laptop. Puts it on the bedside table, then climbs on top of Evan and straddles him, his long hair falling over both of their faces like a curtain. A moment later, Evan’s flipped them over, turning the tables, pinning the other Connor to the mattress by his wrists. 

They’re both breathing heavily. Evan starts pressing kisses to the other Connor’s neck. 

Connor thinks he can feel them on his own skin. Fuck. 

He misses him. 

He misses him he misses him he misses him. 

Evan pulls off the other Connor’s shirt, then stills for a moment. 

Runs his fingers over the other Connor’s abdomen, just below the belly-button. 

Connor looks and sees a scar there. Smaller than the one on his stomach by far. It’s still a little pink, but it’s obviously healing and doesn’t look quite as angry as Connor’s still does, nearly two months after the actual surgery. 

“Does it still hurt?” Evan asks the other Connor, his voice soft. 

The other Connor looks down at his stomach, then back to Evan and shakes his head. “No,” he assures him. “I mean, it kind of tickles when you touch it, but it doesn’t hurt.”

“It’s healing well,” says Evan, still clearly transfixed by the mark. “It…” He lets out a breath in this rush of air. “Fuck, you scared me? You need to stop fucking scaring me, okay? First the emergency appendectomy, then the fainting because of the low iron. Seriously. Stop fucking scaring me.”

The other Connor looks pained. Reaches up and touches Evan’s face. “I never want to scare you,” he says, his voice sincere. “I love you so, so, so fucking much. I’m so sorry.”

Evan leans down and presses his body gently against the other Connor’s. Kisses him deeply. “I love you,” he says, his voice husky, then focuses back on kissing the other Connor, focuses back on removing his clothes, and Connor…

Doesn’t feel like he can watch this. 

Like it’s okay for him to be playing voyeur on something that isn’t…

That isn’t really real. 

He turns around, only to see that they’re not alone in the room. 

Because there’s another Evan. 

An Evan who looks tired and sad and a little too thin, an Evan who reminds Connor of the Evan who broke his heart only a few hours ago, that Evan. 

He’s watching the other Connor and the other Evan with this desperate, conflicted expression, and Connor hates it. 

Hates it so much. 

“We were happy,” Connor can’t help but say to the other Evan, and the other Evan looks right at him, eyes wide. “We were happy and you… you just threw it away, you threw me away.”

This Evan looks so tired. “I couldn’t let you destroy yourself for me,” he says, and he even sounds exhausted. “You’re better off without me, I swear you are.”

Connor gestures to the bed, where alternate versions of them are kissing, touching, happily laughing in the early evening summer sun. “How can you see us like this and think that?”

“It isn’t real,” says this version of Evan, his eyes dull, his voice flat. “None of this is real, so it doesn’t matter, it…”

“I just want to know when,” says Connor desperately, wildly, knowing that this isn’t real, this is a dream, but having to ask anyway. 

“When what?”

Connor swallows hard. “When did you stop loving me?”

Evan pulls back, flinches hard, almost like Connor had punched him. When he finally answers, his voice is shaking. 

“How can you ask me that?”

Connor just stares at him. 

“What the fuck does that mean?”

Evan doesn’t answer, because it’s starting to hail, inside the apartment. Tiny shards of ice, dropping to the ground, falling heavily. 

It’s cold. 

It’s cold it’s cold it’s cold it’s cold. 

And Connor wakes up, shivering violently. 

“Hey hey hey,” says Zoe, who’s lying next to him. She grabs his hand and holds it tight, then pulls him into a hug, a big hug that warms him through. “It’s okay. It’s okay, Connor, it’s going to be okay.”

Connor tries to stop shaking. 

He’d like to believe his sister, but he just can’t see how. 


	62. SIXTY-ONE

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> "How can you ask me that?"

Evan knew he was dreaming. Something rare for him, to know he was dreaming immediately, to be able to identify within seconds that what he was seeing wasn’t real. But this very obviously wasn’t real, because Evan was looking at himself. 

Looking at himself and at Connor. 

They were sitting together in Connor’s bed. Connor looked better. A lot better than when Evan had left him in his apartment earlier. Healthy. Far less thin. His eyes were brighter, and he didn’t have bruiselike dark circles under his eyes. He was smiling. He looked… happy. 

Evan’s heart squeezed because Connor looked… happy. He was wearing that sort of ratty red t-shirt that was soft and that Evan often stole to sleep in because it was well worn and always smelled like Connor. His eyes were focused on a book in his hands. 

The Evan sitting beside that Connor on the bed was wearing his NYU law shirt and some shorts, working on something on his laptop. Evan could see this version of himself was concentrating hard, frowning slightly with his eyebrows hooked together. Engrossed in whatever he was doing. 

And Connor was watching him, the Evan on the bed, his face open and warm, smiling and watching. He had been reading but he had discarded his book in favor of looking at Evan and smiling, this soft smile that made Evan want so badly to lean in and kiss Connor, kiss that smile until he had claimed it for his own, until that smile belonged to him. He loved that smile. He loved Connor so much and he looked… so much fucking better. So much happier and healthier that it made Evan’s heart ache. 

The pair on the bed didn’t seem to know they were being watched. Evan inched a little closer, wanting to be able to see them better, wanting to torture himself more with their happy faces. 

“What?” The other Evan said, laughing a little. 

“Just watching you. Thinking about how wonderful you are,” Connor answered, and he was grinning so wide, he was smiling so happily that Evan wanted to cry because he was never going to see that in real life again. Never. He’d never again be privy to that sort of smile from Connor. He’d probably never get a chance to see him looking so healthy, so gorgeously alive again. 

The Evan on the bed rolled his eyes at that, smiling brightly. He looked better than the Evan watching him, like he’d actually slept recently, like he wasn’t falling apart totally. 

“You feeling okay?” The Evan speaking to Connor asked. “Not too dizzy or anything today?”

Connor rolled his eyes. “I’m fine,” he said, kissing Evan. Like he meant it. Something intentional. “You worry too much.”

“I worry just enough. The exact right amount of worry about the fact that my boyfriend faints like a Victorian heroine if he hasn’t had enough iron.”

Evan frowned. Were they talking about Connor being anemic? 

Connor’s cheeks turned rosy. He dropped his eyes to his lap, and apologized. “I am really sorry about that. I kind of thought that was, like, over? I hadn’t really had any problems with my iron levels since senior year of high school, so it wasn’t exactly on my mind.”

Evan on the bed nodded, but his eyes were big and scared. Worry eyes. “I know you weren’t trying to scare me, Connor,” He said with a wobbly little laugh. “It just… it reminded me of the loops, of when you collapsed in your apartment and I caught you and…” He looked like he might cry suddenly. 

Evan felt like he might join in if he did. 

But then Connor took the other Evan’s hand and gave it a tight squeeze and his tears didn’t fall. “I’m sorry,” Connor said, brushing the other Evan’s hand with his fingers softly and kissing his cheek. “I’ll eat all of the iron, I promise. No more swooning damsel bullshit, okay?”

“I’m gonna hold you to that,” Evan said, and his tone wasn’t quite joking but it almost was. Connor drew an X in the air over his heart dramatically, and the other Evan smiled. Laughed. “You are… such a dork, oh my god.”

Connor smiled wolfishly at him, reaching out and closing Evan’s laptop. He put it on the bedside table. Then he moved so he was straddling Evan’s hips, leaning in to kiss him, his hair obscuring the sight from the Evan watching’s view. 

It had been so fucking long since he and Connor had actually been able to do something like that. Months. Forever. Evan wasn’t even sure he could remember the last time they had sex, touched each other that way. It was hard to watch. It got harder to watch as the other Evan pushed Connor back against this mattress and pinned his wrists down.

It hurt to watch. 

Hurt to hear their quickening breaths, hurt to see the other Evan pressing kisses to Connor’s neck, practically feeling the warmth of Connor’s skin against his own lips, practically tasting the salt of him, almost hearing the thrum of his pulse in his own ears. Evan couldn’t watch, he couldn’t watch, it hurt so much it ached it pulled something inside of him wide open, exposing it like a nerve, and he hated it so much because that was all he wanted. 

All he wanted. 

Fuck fuck fuck. 

The Evan on the bed had pulled the red shirt over Connor’s head, then paused, taking in a small pink scar on Connor’s stomach just below his bellybutton. “Does it still hurt?” He asked Connor, his fingers coming to rest inches from the spot but not touching it. 

Connor glanced at the mark briefly, then looked at Evan again. He shook his head. “No. I mean, it kind of tickles when you touch it, but it doesn’t hurt.’

The Evan on the bed was still looking at it, mesmerized almost. “It’s healing well,” He said, his voice soft. “It…” He let out a breath and Evan watching did the same. A breath he hadn’t realized he was holding. “Fuck, you scared me? You need to stop fucking scaring me, okay? First the emergency appendectomy, then the fainting because of the low iron. Seriously. Stop fucking scaring me.” He wasn’t quite pleading, but his meaning was so clear. He was terrified to lose Connor. 

This Evan, the one the real Evan was watching, didn’t know how easily Connor could be lost. 

Connor, still pinned beneath him touched Evan’s face. “I never want to scare you,” he said. “I love you so, so, so fucking much. I’m so sorry.”

Evan on the bed kissed Connor deeply, pressing their bodies together, their limbs tangling. Evan could practically feel Connor against him, feel his body’s response, feel him getting hard, feel his breathing hitch and it hurt so much. It hurt so fucking much and he wanted to wake up. 

He wanted to wake up. He didn’t want to watch them have sex, he didn’t want to hear their breathy “I love you”s he didn’t want to perve on Connor and some alternate version of himself who got to be happy, who got to keep Connor and be happy and love him and fuck him and be with him all of the time. 

Evan wanted to wake up, but all he could manage was to turn his head and try not to hear the moans as they started. Try not to hear to see the love scene unfolding in front of him. Only when he turned, Evan saw he wasn’t alone. He wasn’t the only one who had been watching. 

Connor, his Connor, too thin and too tired and far too unhealthy to be up and about was watching him. Watching the Evan who was watching the pair on the bed, wishing he wasn’t, feeling guilty and frustrated and sad so fucking sad as the pair on the bed laughed and kissed and gasped, now completely naked, now pressed against each other and breathing hard. 

Fuck he wanted that back so much. He wanted to be those people. He was envious and jealous and watching them, desperately, like he might absorb some of their contentment. 

But his Connor was watching him. 

“We were happy,” Evan’s Connor said, his voice raw and sad. “We were happy and you… you just threw it away, you threw me away.”

Evan felt like crying but he wasn’t sure he could cry in a dream like this. He wasn’t sure he could. “I couldn’t let you destroy yourself for me. You’re better off without me, I swear you are.”

Connor pointed to the bed, his eyes so fucking sad, so defeated and hurt. “How can you see us like this and think that?”

“It isn’t real,” Evan answered because this was a dream, this wasn’t reality, none of this was true. None of it. It wasn’t real it was just torture. “None of this is real, so it doesn’t matter, it…”

“I just want to know when,” Connor said to him suddenly. 

“When what?”

“When did you stop loving me?”

Evan flinched, pulling away, because that hurt that hurt that hurt so much. How could Connor possibly think that? How could Connor look him in the eyes and not see that the love there hadn’t gone away or changed or faded. He couldn’t believe what he was hearing, he couldn’t believe Connor would ask because it was so obvious, it was so clear to Evan that he’d never stopped and he never would stop, he loved Connor more than he would ever love anyone else, he loved Connor with every fiber of his being. “How can you ask me that?” Evan choked out. 

Connor stared back, his eyes hard. “What the fuck does that mean?”

Evan opened his mouth to answer, to say he never stopped and never would, but the ceiling opened up and hail began to fall on their heads. It fell harder and harder, icy and painful, relentless and cold and Evan tried to tell the Connor he knew, not the one on the bed, that he was sorry and he loved him. 

But his mouth filled up with hailstones and ice and then he was coughing and coughing, waking himself up from the bizarre dream with a start. 

Fuck. 

Evan dissolved into tears, his body shaking with sobs, and he just wanted to go back he just wanted to fix it. 

But he couldn’t fix it there was no fixing it when he was the thing that was broken. 

* * *

Connor just wants to sleep. 

Sleep for the rest of time, if he can get away with it. Which is probably really fucking unfair to everyone who loves him who had to deal with him being in a fucking coma just over a month ago, but…

He just wants to sleep. 

Sleeping means dreaming, and dreaming is confusing and weird but at least sometimes he sees Evan in his dreams, an Evan who’s smiling and happy and loves him. 

Not the Evan who’s stony-faced and resigned and dead behind the eyes and tells Connor that he doesn’t trust him, that it’s over. 

He fought so fucking hard to get back to him. 

He fought so hard. 

And it didn’t matter. 

It doesn’t matter. 

Evan knows exactly what he did and…

Wishes that he hadn’t. 

Wishes that Connor hadn’t come back. 

Deep down, Connor knows that’s what Evan meant, even if it’s not what he said. Even if Evan said that he wasn’t worth the effort, he wasn’t worth Connor nearly dying over, Connor knows that’s… that’s not true. 

Evan’s worth everything. 

He is. 

Evan just…

Doesn’t want Connor. 

He doesn’t want him. 

When Connor asked if Evan still loves him, if he ever loved him, Evan didn’t say anything. 

He didn’t say he didn’t love him. 

But he didn’t say he did. 

And Connor…

Connor can’t not love him. 

It doesn’t…

It doesn’t make sense. 

Connor’s doing his best. He’s working a few hours every couple of days on the store floor while Jax, Maureen and Leslie watch him like a hawk. Edgar hasn’t left his side since he got home from the hospital. His fridge is literally full of food because Martha and Gladys won’t stop bringing him home-cooked meals. 

He’s working. He’s eating. He’s taking care of himself. He’s doing what he’s supposed to. 

Zoe’s moved into his spare room and she’s making sure of it. 

Making sure he doesn’t just give up. 

Which is… tempting. 

It’s tempting just to stop fighting. 

Stop trying. 

But every time he thinks he can’t go on, he can’t survive this, he sees his sister’s terrified face, across every possible universe, and is reminded of how much she loves him. 

And Connor holds on. 

For her. 

For his sister, who he loves. 


	63. SIXTY-TWO

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> "I assume you’re here to yell at me so. Why don’t you just get that over with?”

Evan kept dodging Sabrina’s calls. 

He didn’t know how she knew, but somehow Evan knew she knew about the break up. He kept dodging her calls. He didn’t need to hear it. He didn’t want to hear it. She would tell him how stupid he was. 

And Evan knew he was stupid. He knew. 

And he missed Connor more than he even imagined possible. 

But he knew he had made the right choice. He knew. He had to keep Connor safe and the best way he could do that was to stay the fuck away from him. He had to stay away so Connor wouldn’t keep trying to destroy himself he had to he had to he had to. 

But that didn’t mean it didn’t hurt. 

Evan just wanted to be alone with his pain. He wanted to ignore everyone, keep his head down, just work and keep to himself. He wanted to be able to lick wounds in private and not talk to anyone until he could keep a lid on his broken heart, keep it all from leaking out all over and wrecking things for everyone else. 

So he dodged Sabrina’s calls. 

He knew it was only a matter of time before he couldn’t. He knew the reckoning was coming and he was utterly helpless to stop it. 

So he wasn’t surprised when the weekend after Evan broke up with Connor, he heard the buzzer for his apartment door ring. He wearily got to his feet, set down the bottle of whisky he was nursing, and hit the button to allow her to come inside. 

He knew it was coming. 

Time to face the fucking music. 

Sabrina banged aggressively on the door and Evan pulled it open so fast she nearly knocked on his face because her hand was still raised. “Oh good,” She said, her voice bitter, “You aren’t dead.”

“Looks that way,” Evan said, his tone equally bitter. 

“Alex and Mattie here?”

Evan shook his head. They were out of town at a medical conference. They were using it as a weekend away. Before they’d left, Alex had joked that maybe Evan and Connor could stand to get away from the city for a few days too. “Like how back in the day they’d send sick people to the coast to recover. It could be good for you both.”

He hadn’t told them yet about Connor, but he figured they would know when they got back. 

Evan led Sabrina into the living room. Sat heavily on the sofa and picked up his whisky bottle. He took a long pull then offered it to Sabrina. “Want some?”

She ignored him. “Evan what is going on?”

“Well, I’m drinking,” He said dully. “And I assume you’re here to yell at me so. Why don’t you just get that over with?”

“Graham talked to Connor.”

Evan took another drink. 

“You broke up with him?” Sabrina went on, sounding disbelieving. 

Evan swallowed another sip. 

He didn’t deny it. 

“Ev, what the fuck? What is the matter with you? Less than a month ago you told me you couldn’t live without him, you told me you’d kill yourself if he didn’t live and now you… dumped him less than a month after he woke up from a coma? Please explain that to me because from where I’m standing that doesn’t make any fucking sense.”

Evan shrugged, going to take another drink but Sabrina snatched his whisky bottle away. Damn it, he should have seen that coming, fuck. “Evan what the hell?”

“I’m not good for him,” Evan said, his tone clipped, rehearsed. “He’s hurting himself by being with me and… I can’t hurt him anymore.” 

Sabrina stared at him. “That doesn’t make sense.”

Evan wasn’t interested in trying to defend himself to her. 

“Explain it to me,” She pushed. “Explain it so I… Because I know you’re a good person, you wouldn’t just leave for no reason, you love Connor you love him so I need you to explain.”

Evan shook his head. “There’s nothing to explain. I keep hurting him and… and he keeps hurting me. We shouldn’t be together. It’s… we’re bad for each other.”

“Bullshit!” Sabrina said, and her eyes were shiny with unshed tears. “You’re not. You two… you’ve become so much better as people since you got together. He keeps you from working too hard, you help him to not be such an asshole you… You changed each other’s lives for the better and… He needs you right now. He needs you and you left.”

“I’m not good for him,” Evan said. “I’m not a good person Sabrina, you know that.”

“Oh that is such bullshit Evan,” Sabrina said, shaking her head angrily. “You are a good person. I’ve known you since you were a freaked out twenty year old, scared of his own shadow. You’re better than this.”

“I’m really not.”

Sabrina let out a humorless laugh. “So you, what, you’re just done trying? Even though you love him and he loves you? You’re just done?”

Evan nodded. “I’m done. I just keep hurting him no matter what I do and… I’m done. I don’t want to hurt him anymore.”

Sabrina shoved his shoulder, hard. “I can’t believe you’re doing this. I can’t believe you’re doing this again.”

Evan didn’t follow. 

“What did he say?” Sabrina said. “Did he tell you that you needed help? Did he point out that you’re sick and need to talk to someone? Because honestly I thought you already were… And that was the nail in the coffin for us so.”

Evan said nothing. He couldn’t even look at her. 

“I need you to explain,” She said desperately. “Because this… this is scaring me Evan, this feels like you’re trying to… trying to isolate yourself so you can do something fucking stupid.”

Yeah, Evan thought. He was always trying to do something fucking stupid. 

Sabrina was crying. “So, what, you dumped him like you dumped me? Because he wanted you to be better?” 

“Sure,” Evan said. “That’s one version of it.”

“And the other?”

He said nothing. 

“Evan,” Sabrina said, sounding devastated. “You… you’re better now I know you’re better now, I don’t believe you’d do this for no reason.”

“I had a reason,” Evan snapped. “And I don’t owe that to you.”

“Did he… What did he do?”

_Slept with Parker._

_Left._

_Killed himself in an alternate reality to come back to me and destroyed himself in the process._

“You’re such a fucking coward,” Sabrina said finally. “You always do this. You bail when things don’t go your way. You bail when things get hard. I thought you were better with Connor than you were with me, but it turns out you’re still just a pathetic little boy running scared from how you actually feel.”

“You’re right,” Evan owned up. 

Sabrina laughed again, bitter and biting. “I bet you packed up all of your shit when he wasn’t home too, didn’t you? You erased yourself from his life before you even bothered to let on that you were going, just like you did with me.”

Evan swallowed hard. 

“You have no idea how much that fucking hurts,” Sabrina said. “One minute everything is fine and the next you’re getting dumped by some asshole who makes it out like he never fucking cared about you.”

Evan inhaled sharply. Of course he cared. Of course he did. The problem was what people who cared back did. The problem was that he cared too much, infected them with his feelings and then watched as it ruined everything. He’d broken Connor. He’d broken Sabrina. He’d broken himself, and they kept coming back for more, kept coming back for another round of getting hurt and broken because everything around him was collateral damage. Nothing more than collateral damage. 

“I cannot believe you,” Sabrina said. “You’re better than this.”

“I’m not,” Evan said. “And I never was.”

“Fuck, Evan, are you okay?” She pressed. “Are you… you’re not planning to hurt yourself are you?”

“Of course not.”

“That is not an of course with you,” Sabrina shouted, climbing to her feet. “You… you have an illness, you have something in you that makes you want to hurt yourself and right now it seems like you’re… severing ties to make it neater, tidier, just a quick exit or some shit and that is not okay.”

“I’m not -”

“Then what the fuck are you doing?” Sabrina shouted and Evan didn’t know he didn’t know what he was doing he was hurting he missed Connor he missed him so much that he couldn’t breathe, he couldn’t breathe but the only way to protect him was to keep him out of Evan’s orbit of destruction, the only thing he could do was remove himself the one variable in all of these demolitions, the only thing he could do to protect the love of his life was to break Connor’s heart. “What the fuck happened? Why would you do this why would you -”

“Because he fucking broke my heart,” Evan sputtered, something inside him unable to keep fighting. “Because he… he did something awful, he hurt me so much and I cannot… I can’t trust him anymore I can’t and I can’t make myself see around it, I can’t make myself forgive him I just… I had to get out before either of us got hurt worse. 

Sabrina’s face softened. “What did he do?”

“No, that’s not. I can’t tell you I… I can’t tell you.” He needed her to stop he needed her to stop. “Just… just trust me. All I do is hurt him and all he does is hurt me and it’s… we’re bad together. We’re toxic and we don’t trust each other anymore, we don’t and this is the only way, the only way I can… the only way I can keep going okay? I can’t keep pretending we’re fine when we’re broken and fucked up and only hurt each other.”

“What happened?” Sabrina demanded, her voice hard. 

Evan shook his head. 

“Evan, something must have happened, you don’t just leave the love of your life over nothing…”

Evan sighed. “He. Connor did something and… and he lied to me about it. He lied to my face for… a long time, and when he finally told me… He only told me because I overheard him telling his friend Andi, he wasn’t going to tell me the truth and I… I can’t. He wasn’t going to tell me, he didn’t trust me not to lose my shit and… and now here I am. Losing my shit, all because he didn’t tell me...” Evan was talking in circles, dancing around the harsh reality, because Sabrina wasn’t part of this she didn’t get to know this part no matter how much Evan ached to just tell someone, have someone hear him out, hear his side.

“What did he do?”

“It’s not important,” Evan insisted because it wasn’t. It wasn’t important to her. She couldn’t know the truth she’d have him locked up. “It’s… it’s the fact that he lied. That he wasn’t going to tell me, that I had to find out because I was in the wrong place at the wrong time. The fact that he couldn’t trust me… I can’t get past it. I just can’t. All we do is hurt each other.”

“Evan…”

“I just… after all of it, after everything, it was too much… I couldn’t. I can’t. I love him so much Sabrina but all I do is… by existing in his life I’m hurting him, keeping him to myself and it’s not fair to him or to me or… I don’t know what I’m doing. I don’t know what to do. I just… I can’t keep letting us try to destroy each other every way we know how. I can’t. I can’t know he won’t lie to me again, and I can’t let him keep hurting himself and hurting me. I can’t let him and since I can’t control what he does, I had to go. I had to leave. I needed to… I had to do it Sabrina, I didn’t _want_ to but I had to do it… Before anything else got worse.” 

“Fuck, Evan, I am so fucking sorry.” She put her hand on his shoulder. “You could… I mean you could do counseling or-or -”

“No,” Evan said, something final in his tone. “No. I can’t. We’re done. Me and Connor are so over… We have to be because I can’t take it anymore. I can’t take it, it just hurts every single time I look at him… I can’t. Can’t you see that I fucking tried? I tried and I can’t do it. I can’t be a person who… who moves on with this shit. He hurt himself and he hurt me and no matter how much I wish I could trust him again, I just can’t.”

“Evan…”

“I don’t know if I can do this without him,” Evan confessed, feeling himself tear up. “But I know I just can’t be with him anymore.”

* * *

It’s not too late in the evening and Zoe’s just having a shower before they heat up some food for dinner, having just come home from work. There’s a knock on the door. 

Connor opens the door to find Sabrina Patel standing there. 

Well, Sabrina Patel-Smith now, technically. Maybe.

He can’t remember if they hyphenated or if they both kept their names. 

The wedding feels like a long time ago. 

“Hi,” says Connor, awkwardly. 

“Can I come in?” asks Sabrina, her voice quiet. 

“Sure,” says Connor, even though part of him just wants to slam the door in her face. He leads her inside and into the living room, where they both take a seat. 

Sabrina rubs her forehead from her position on an armchair across from Connor. She looks… tired and frustrated, and she’s clearly trying to figure out what to say. “Look,” she says after a moment. “I talked to Evan.”

“Oh,” says Connor, stupidly, because… of course she did. 

He’s her best friend, of course she did. 

“I just…” Sabrina begins. She blinks a few times, then looks at Connor, and there’s something harsh in her expression. “How could you?”

Connor’s heart drops to his feet. He feels cold, all the way through him. “What?”

“How could you let him leave?”

“I didn’t let him do anything,” Connor protests. “He… I begged him to stay, I tried to make him stay, he just-”

“You are such a fucking hypocrite, Connor.”

Connor blinks. 

Stares at Sabrina, whose eyes are blazing with anger. 

“What?”

“You fucking hated me,” Sabrina says, her voice shaking, “for letting him leave, and then you did the same fucking thing! You lied to him about… something and made him freak out and you let him leave! You let him leave when you _know_ he still loves you and _you still love him!_ When you _know_ he’s a fucking mess right now!”

“I didn’t _let_ him do anything,” Connor says again, trying to explain, trying to process what the hell she’s talking about, what Evan might have said. “Sabrina, I tried to stop him, I tried to reason with him, I-”

“He’s being a fucking idiot right now,” Sabrina says, her voice cold. “But that’s not an excuse to just let him go. To let him walk away. You’re supposed to… you’re supposed to be good for him, you’re supposed to protect him, to make him… to make him okay, and you let him leave?”

“What was I supposed to do?” Connor asks, desperately. “Physically stop him from leaving my apartment?”

“Yes!”

“I still get winded if I climb the stairs too fast!” Connor says, hating how he’s making these stupid fucking excuses, hating how they’re true. “Evan can fucking pick me up, if I’d tried to stop him he would have just moved me out of the way, I can’t… you have to believe I did everything I could, you have to believe me.”

“This is your fault,” Sabrina says, her voice harsh. “If he hurts himself, if we lose him, it’s on _you,_ Connor. It’s _your_ fucking fault.” Her voice breaks. “You’re the love of his life, you’re supposed to _protect_ him and you hurt him, you let him go, it’s _your_ fault if he kills himself, it’s-”

“How dare you?”

Connor turns to see Zoe standing in the doorway of the living room, her hair wrapped in a towel, looking angrier than he’s ever seen her. 

Sabrina stands up. “This isn’t about you,” she snaps. 

Zoe moves closer toward her. “You have no right to come in here and say shit like this to my brother, no fucking right at all, how _dare_ you?”

“Someone needs to talk some sense into him-”

“No,” Zoe snaps. “They don’t. Because Evan left. _Evan’s_ the one who left. Connor didn’t want that, Connor wasn’t the one who threw it away, Connor’s not the one who fucking left someone they claimed to love barely a month after they almost _died_!”

“Evan’s not thinking clearly,” Sabrina says, almost pleads. “It was a mistake, he made a mistake, he… he said he didn’t want to live without Connor and I’m terrified he’ll kill himself!”

Connor can’t breathe. 

He can’t fucking breathe. 

“She’s right,” he manages to choke out. “She’s right, what if he hurts himself, what if-”

He can’t keep talking because he can’t breathe, he can’t fucking breathe, and he’s so fucking cold, he’s shaking, he curls into himself on the sofa and tries to claw his way out of this panic attack, but all he can hear is Zoe screaming at Sabrina to get the fuck out. 

Then there are arms around him and Zoe’s calm voice, instructing him to count with her, and he tries, he really tries, and it feels like forever but finally, finally he gets his breathing back under control. 

“It’s not true,” Zoe says fiercely. “What Sabrina said, it’s not true, it’s not your fault.”

Connor shakes his head. “She’s right.”

“No,” Zoe says firmly. “She’s not.”

Connor doesn’t have the energy to argue. 

But he knows what’s true. 

And Sabrina’s right. 


	64. SIXTY-THREE

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> “Would you please just talk to me?”

It takes a while to figure things out. To figure out what he’s going to do, how Connor’s going to fix this. 

Because it has to be fixed. He has to fix this, he has to talk to Evan, he has to make everything okay. 

Evan’s suffering, Evan’s in pain and Sabrina was right, Connor shouldn’t have let him go. 

Sabrina was right. 

Evan’s in a bad place because Connor got sick. 

So if anything happens, it’s on Connor. 

It’s Connor’s fault. 

He feels so guilty. So fucking guilty. He wants to fix this, he wants to fix everything, to make everything okay. 

But mostly he just…

He wants the love of his life back. 

He wants Evan back. His Evan. 

Maybe two weeks after Evan leaves, Zoe asks Connor if he’s okay on his own that night. It’s a Thursday and Mariah needs a plus one to some kind of… something. Connor doesn’t really know. 

Neither does Zoe, it seems. 

“It’s like, this women in business thing,” says Zoe, sighing a little. “Celebrating women in business? It’s kind of bullshit. I saw the Facebook event for it though, and like, all the speakers are men.”

“Seriously?”

Zoe nods. Rolls her eyes. “Yeah. Anyway, it’s definitely bullshit, but Mariah wants to go and make connections and she said she needs arm candy.” Zoe’s cheeks turn pink. “And we have a standing arrangement that we’re each other’s arm candy for shit like this.”

“That’s… adorable,” Connor says, smiling despite himself. 

“I said I’d check with you,” Zoe says, frowning a little. “Are you sure you’re going to be okay?”

“I’ll be fine,” Connor insists. “You go be arm candy for Mariah. I’ll just hang out with Edgar. Watch some Netflix. Drink hot chocolate.”

Zoe looks horribly sad for a moment. “Ice cream always helps breakups,” she says with a sigh. “I just wish you weren’t still so cold.”

Connor sighs. “Yeah. Me too.”

Zoe heads back to her apartment to get changed, promising Connor she’ll stay in touch. Connor sits on the couch and watches something on Netflix for a few hours, he’s not even sure what, it’s just there. 

All he can think about is Evan. 

And suddenly, he’s struck with the realization that he’s alone for the first time in weeks and…

Connor stands up. Goes to his room. Finds his winter jacket and puts it on, along with a scarf and gloves. 

He’ll be cold without them when he goes outside, even though it’s only just September. 

He gets his keys. Heads out of the apartment. It’s after 8, so the bookstore kids are gone, none of them are there to ask what the fuck he’s doing, ask why he’s leaving the apartment, ask what the fuck he’s thinking. 

He probably isn’t thinking, to be honest. 

But he’s going to try. 

He has to try. 

He walks to Evan’s apartment building, shivering the whole time. There are people walking in shorts, but he’s cold. He’s so fucking cold. 

When he gets to the building, he considers letting himself inside, going straight up to Evan’s apartment, but…

He can’t do that. He shouldn’t do that, it wouldn’t… it wouldn’t be right. 

He buzzes up instead. 

No one answers. 

It’s only just 8.30, he realizes. Evan’s probably not even back from work yet. 

He can wait. 

It’s okay. 

He can wait. 

So he does. 

It’s nearly ten by the time Evan approaches the building. Connor sees him coming and tries not to react, tries not to just run up to him and start begging him to talk to him. He clearly doesn’t notice Connor, doesn’t notice anything. It’s like he’s staring into space, like he’s lost in thought. 

He looks tired, Connor thinks as he watches him. Tired and sad. 

Just… so fucking sad. 

_ Does he miss me? _

_ Does he regret what happened? _

_ Will he listen? _

It’s only when he’s nearly at the door that Evan stops. Looks at Connor. His eyes widen in surprise, and there’s this moment where Connor could swear he almost smiles. 

Almost. 

It’s gone so quickly that Connor knows he could have just imagined it. 

“You shouldn’t be here,” Evan says, his voice sharp. 

“Can we talk?” Connor asks, taking a step toward Evan. “I promise I won’t take up too much of your time. I just want to talk to you.”

Evan’s eyes flash with something Connor can’t place, then his whole expression closes off. “We have nothing to say to each other.”

“That’s not true,” Connor says, hating how desperate he sounds. “That’s not… Evan, please, I don’t… I know that I made a mistake, I know that, but I can fix things, okay? We can fix things. Whatever you want me to do to fix it, I’ll do it, I swear. Just… please just reconsider. We’re good together. We’re  _ right _ together, I… I love you so fucking much and I’ll do whatever it takes to get you to trust me again, I promise. I promise.”

Evan flinches. “I don’t…”

“Evan,  _ please.” _

Evan stares at him for a long moment, eyes dull, face closed off. 

It’s like looking into the face of a stranger. 

“Go home,” he says finally, his voice quiet and flat. “Just go home. You’re cold.”

Connor shakes his head. “I’m fine.”

“You’re shaking.”

Connor hadn’t even noticed, but Evan’s right. “Would you please just talk to me?”

“Go _home,_ Connor,” Evan says again, a little louder. “Go home.”

He really is shaking, Connor realizes with dismay. He’s shaking so hard, he’s so fucking cold, and Evan’s standing there just watching him with this dull, flat expression, and it’s breaking his heart. 

He…

“I’m not giving up on you,” Connor says softly. “I can’t. I… you need to know that I’m not giving up on you. That I still love you, I’m still in love with you and I’m willing to fight for us. Okay? I’m willing to fight.”

Evan looks like he’s about to say something for a split second. Then his mouth snaps shut and he turns away. 

Lets himself into his apartment building and walks away. 

Doesn’t look back. 

Connor watches as he disappears from view. With shaking hands, he orders a Lyft to take him home, knowing that his legs won’t carry him that far. Not now. 

He’s so fucking cold. 

When he finally gets back to the bookstore, it takes him a couple of tries to get up the stairs. He has to stop three times to catch his breath and it hurts, it fucking hurts, his face is burning with embarrassment and shame and…

_ “Do you have any idea how exhausting it is to take care of you day in and day out? Do you have any concept of how unbelievably boring it is, babysitting you and making sure you eat and sleep and shower? Because sure, you fought hard to come back, but you never spared a single thought about what it would do to me.” _

Fuck. 

Fuck, he’s just…

Completely useless. Completely fucking useless. 

Connor manages to get himself into his bedroom, legs shaking, arms shaking, everything fucking shaking. He doesn’t even bother getting changed except to take off his shoes, he just crawls under the covers in his jacket and gloves and hat and scarf, he…

_ It’s not always going to be like this, _ he tells himself. 

_ I’m not giving up,  _ he tells himself. 

It isn’t long before he falls asleep.

* * *

The days had all started to run together. Case after case, day after day, every day he got all of these fucking emails… 

Evan kept staying later and later at work, hoping that throwing himself into work would help, would distract him from the ever-growing sinking pit in his stomach, would pull focus from the fact that he missed Connor every second of the day, that he regretted every second that he wasn’t stronger, wasn’t better for him. That he couldn’t keep it together, keep Connor safe. That if he could have done something, kept his head on, Connor would have trusted him. If he hadn’t fallen apart, Connor would have told him. 

If he hadn’t fallen apart the first time... It wouldn’t have happened at all. 

Evan was a black hole, sucking everything good out of existence if it got too close. 

It was better this way. He had to believe it was better this way. 

Evan arrived back at his apartment around ten o’clock. His head was throbbing, a headache had bloomed behind his eyes, and he was looking forward to collapsing into bed and sleeping immediately. Evan couldn’t imagine how he was going to keep this up. He needed a drink… or twenty. He felt like he needed to sleep for a month, to check out completely. 

His stomach turned suddenly thinking about how sleeping for a month was basically a coma and… 

Evan approached his building and spotted a figure in a warm coat sitting outside of the building. 

Evan’s face had broken into an automatic smile before he realized it was Connor and… Connor shouldn’t be here. 

He shouldn’t be here. 

Evan had broken his heart to protect him he…. 

Shouldn’t be here. 

Shouldn’t be out, shouldn’t be alone, should definitely not be here to seek Evan out looking sad but determined. 

He had to stop this. Send him away. He had to protect him before Connor got anymore hurt before he made himself sicker before everything got even worse. “You shouldn’t be here,” Evan said, his voice sharp and cutting.

Connor took a step toward Evan, his face tight with pain and worry. “Can we talk?” Connor asked, his voice hushed and sad. “I promise I won’t take up too much of your time. I just want to talk to you.”

The only thing Evan wanted was to talk to Connor. 

The only thing he wanted was to tell Connor everything, explain, beg him to let Evan come back but… 

He couldn’t. It wasn’t safe,  _ he  _ wasn’t safe for Connor, he was a wrecking ball, a grenade with the pin pulled, he did nothing but destroy Connor over and over and over. And he let Connor destroy him back and it was… bad. All of it was bad. He couldn’t let it continue, an endless collection of one bad thing after another after another. It… they were bad for each other. Evan, because he’d broken Connor, and Connor because he had broken Evan right back. 

He had to send him away. For good. No matter what Evan wanted, he had to send Connor away. “We have nothing to say to each other.”

“That’s not true,” Connor said, his voice desperate and hoarse. “That’s not… Evan, please, I don’t… I know that I made a mistake, I know that, but I can fix things, okay? We can fix things. Whatever you want me to do to fix it, I’ll do it, I swear. Just… please just reconsider. We’re good together. We’re  _ right _ together, I… I love you so fucking much and I’ll do whatever it takes to get you to trust me again, I promise. I promise.”

Evan flinched.

He wanted Connor to be right he wanted to be convinced he wanted to believe because if he just believed…

It wasn’t real. Evan ruined things; he ruined Connor. Connor  _ ruined  _ him. Connor made him love him and convinced him to say alive and then left and slept with Parker and lied to him. He lied. He swore Evan wouldn’t be alone and then he left him. Connor was a liar, he was a liar and he left and… Evan just couldn’t let himself be convinced this was real. It wasn’t real. It wasn’t. “I don’t…”

“Evan,  _ please.” _

Evan looked at Connor for a long time, struggling to find the words to… He wished he could just make Connor see that they weren’t good together anymore. That Evan was going to ruin everyone and everything they had together was a lie…and if he let Connor talk to him, convince him, things would get worse. He couldn’t let that happen. Not anymore. He had done too much damage already. 

“Go home,” he said, his voice firm. “Just go home. You’re cold.”

“I’m fine.”

“You’re shaking.” He was. It was tearing Evan apart. He wanted to wrap his arms around Connor, protect him and keep safe and warm… But he couldn’t. Evan knew that he couldn’t. 

“Would you please just talk to me?”

“Go  _ home, _ Connor. Go home.” Evan felt his heart breaking. 

He felt his hands start to shake and tremble with the effort of the words, to let go and know if he did this right, Connor wouldn't come back. 

“I’m not giving up on you,” Connor said, his voice gently. Quiet. “I can’t. I… you need to know that I’m not giving up on you. That I still love you, I’m still in love with you and I’m willing to fight for us. Okay? I’m willing to fight.”

Evan should argue with Connor that they both knew who would win that fight… 

But instead he closed his mouth. Unlocked his apartment door and went upstairs. 

It took everything he had not to turn around, to look back at him… 

But Evan managed it. 

He managed to make it all the way into his apartment, into his bedroom with the door locked before he broke down. Tears poured down his face, a hollow screaming in his chest, begging to escape. 

He knew it would be easier. If he turned around, rushed back downstairs his arms around Connor and begged for forgiveness. He knew it would be easier to go back to pretending things were fine, that things were good… 

But they weren’t. 

It was all a fucking lie. Connor had lied to Evan. Over and over he had lied. 

_ “You’re not alone, okay? You’re not. I can’t promise anything more than that but I can promise that you won’t be alone.” _

_ “I love you so fucking much.” _

_ “I’m not going anywhere. I refuse to go anywhere without you, okay? I’m… fueled by caffeine and spite and I won’t let the universe take me okay? I love you.” _

Lies. 

All of it. 

All lies. 

The universe  _ had  _ taken him. He’d left Evan. And then lied about it. 

Liar. Connor was a fucking liar. 

And Evan couldn’t trust him anymore. He couldn’t let him in anymore. He couldn’t. It was too painful, too much, and Evan couldn’t… be vulnerable like that. Not anymore. 

* * *

Zoe goes back to her apartment on Sunday afternoon. 

A part of Connor is relieved to see her go.

If Zoe goes back to her apartment and isn’t in Connor’s spare room, watching him like a hawk, then Connor can focus on fixing things with Evan. 

He can. 

He can wait outside Evan’s apartment until he talks to him. 

Connor knows how stubborn Evan is, but he’s pretty fucking stubborn as well. 

This is wrong. He knows in his bones that this is wrong, this isn’t what’s supposed to be happening, this isn’t how it’s supposed to go. 

He and Evan are supposed to be together. 

Connor crossed over from another  _ universe _ for him. He fought and he fought and he fought and he’s not fucking giving up now. 

Or ever. 

He’s not giving up. 

The bookstore kids check up on him pretty regularly. He’s finally able to do a few hours a day in the store, which helps keep him busy, but he gets tired quickly. Everything makes him tired. He naps a lot during the day. After the store closes at eight, whoever’s closing usually comes upstairs to check on him, make sure he’s eating, spend some time with him. 

Once they’re gone, Connor puts on layers and layers of clothing to keep warm and heads to Evan’s apartment building. 

And waits. 

Waits as long as he can, as long as his body can take it. 

And Evan never comes. 

Connor hates his body for letting him down, hates it so much, because if he were healthy, he could wait for longer. He could wait all night, until Evan finally arrives. 

But because he’s still barely a person, he can only stand so much. 

Only a few hours. 

Maybe he needs to change up his timing, he thinks. Maybe he needs to schedule it better. Maybe he just needs to wait outside Evan’s work. 

He just…

He can’t do that, for some reason. He just can’t bring himself to do that. 

He doesn’t want Evan’s colleagues to see him like this. Doesn’t want to taint the memories of showing up at Evan’s work, bringing him lunch. Giving him the cactus and the succulent as gifts for Evan’s birthday and for Valentine’s Day. 

He doesn’t…

There are cards from Evan’s colleagues in his apartment. Cards and gifts and all sorts of things, wishing him well and hoping he gets better, and he doesn’t want to show up at Evan’s work looking the way he does, skeletal and shaking, because he doesn’t want their pity. 

He just wants Evan to talk to him. 

To just… talk to him. 

Almost every night, he drags his useless body to Evan’s apartment building and waits. He doesn’t see Mattie or Alex or even Mr. Abrahamson, but he sees other people with enough regularity that they must be asking questions about him by now. Must be trying to figure out what the fuck he’s doing, why the fuck he’s here. 

He doesn’t see Evan. 

Either Evan isn’t coming home or he’s changed his whole schedule to avoid Connor, and that’s…

That hurts, it fucking hurts. 

But Connor’s not giving up. 

He won’t.

He can’t.


	65. SIXTY-FOUR

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> “I don’t understand why you would do this when you obviously still love him.”

Evan’s mom was pissed off at him. 

Which meant that the daylong service at the synagogue was especially fucking painful. 

Evan did not want to be here. He kept staring down at his old beat-up converse that he really hated wearing with his nice clothes. He’d had them since college. He could still see the heart Sabrina had drawn on the white rubber. 

Evan’s back hurt from sitting. 

Evan’s head hurt from the bad bottle of his mom’s wine he’d stolen and drank last night when he was supposed to be fasting. But he hadn’t eaten anything this morning so his head was pounding. 

He didn’t want to be here. 

But his mom had absolutely lost it on him when she found out he had broken up with Connor. Just lost it. Wanted to know what was going on with him, and in the end, told him he either came home for Yom Kippur or she would be on the next flight out to “talk some sense into” him. 

So. 

Here he was. 

At the synagogue back home. The hair clip holding his kippah on was hurting his scalp. Jared Kleinman was sitting four rows up, his hair looking even thinner than ever. Evan remembered telling Jared he should probably just kill himself when Connor was in the hospital. 

Fuck. 

He didn’t want to be here. 

Evan really, really did not want to be here. 

Really. 

He could feel his blood pulsing behind his eyeballs. 

He wanted to fucking sleep. He wanted to sleep and sleep and maybe never wake up. 

His mother nudged him almost violently. Evan had been rubbing his temples. 

His mom shot him a dirty look. A look like Evan was in second grade, goofing off in the pews, playing with a toy truck or something. Like he was being immature and misbehaving. 

Fuck he did not want to be here. 

In this state, in this synagogue, sitting in this Yom Kippur service. 

Fucking hell. 

All Evan wanted to do was sleep. All he ever wanted to do was sleep these days. He missed Connor like you might miss a limb. He felt off balance, off kilter without him. Evan kept catching himself about to pick his phone to text or call or facebook message. A stupid meme, a post about cats, book reccomendations, songs he heard… 

Everything made him think about Connor. 

Everything made him want to reach out. Apologize. Undo what couldn’t be undone. 

He wanted to undo it but he knew he had made the right call. Connor didn’t trust Evan anymore, felt like he had to lie to him, and so Evan couldn’t trust him. Couldn’t trust himself around Connor. 

So he didn’t text or call. He didn’t show up at the bookstore to apologize, no matter how many times he thought about it. No matter how much he cried and felt sick about it. 

No matter how much he missed Connor, Evan knew Connor was better off without him to mess up his life. After the shit he had done to get back to Evan, the risks he had taken? It was better if Evan took himself out of the picture. 

It was better. 

His mom drove them to his Grandma Norah’s after the service ended. Evan’s head was still pounding. He also really needed a fucking cigarette but he refused to ever smoke in front of his mother again. Not after this summer. 

“So,” His mom said, her voice tense and tight. “It’s Yom Kippur.”

“Oh,” Evan said sarcastically. “I thought we just felt like a marathon synagogue service.”

“Damn it Evan!” His mother said, slamming her hand on the steering wheel. “How much longer is it going to take you to apologize to Connor?”

Evan raised his eyebrows. “I don’t know what you’re talking about.”

“For bailing on him less than a month after he got out of a coma!” His mom shouted, clearly angry. “For being so selfish and so stupid and leaving him even though you said yourself he’s the love of your life!” 

“He is,” Evan said, his voice quiet and small. “But I… I’m not good for him, mom, I can see that now. I’m not good for him.”

“Do you hear yourself?” His mom snapped. “You’re making excuses. You’re… you’re scared, and I get that, I get that fear because you almost lost him but you… You can fix this. You can fix things with C-”

“Do not say his name!” Evan said sharply. 

“You can fix things baby,” His mom said softly. “If you apologize to him. If you explain... If you explain why you got scared.”

“No,” Evan said softly. “I can’t.”

“I’m sure you two can work this out -”

“Will you please just stop it?” Evan snapped. “I’m almost thirty years old mom, I do not need you meddling in my relationships.”

His mom’s eyes flashed. “You’re sure as hell not acting like you’re nearly thirty, Evan. You’re acting like a… like a scared little kid who runs and hides at the first sign of trouble!”

“That’s not what happened,” Evan said, stubbornly crossing his arms across his chest. 

“Then explain it to me,” His mom said. “I am worried about you. You told me that Connor is the love of your life and that you’d do anything for him this summer and suddenly, what, you’re just done with him? You told Sabrina you would kill yourself if he didn’t pull through.”

“I never said that,” He insisted. 

“Oh cut the crap Evan, we both know she wouldn’t just make that up. And frankly, the way you behaved when Connor was in the hospital, I’m more inclined to believe Sabrina than you.”

Evan clamped his jaw shut and said nothing. 

“I don’t understand this, Evan,” His mom said. “I don’t understand why you would do this when you obviously still love him.”

Evan looked out the window, ignoring her. 

He couldn’t explain. 

There was nothing believable about his reasons. 

If he told her “Oh, see mom, Connor killed himself in an alternate reality where I was dead to try to get back to me and that’s why he nearly died back in July and anyway now I can’t trust him not to be reckless and stupid with his life” she would have him locked up. 

Fuck she probably should. 

He just wanted to sleep. 

“It’s Yom Kippur,” She said softly. “If you called and apologized, I’d bet anything that Connor would forgive you.”

But the thing was that Evan knew he didn’t deserve to be forgiven. So there was no way he was going to call him. 

* * *

People are still walking around in t-shirts, but Connor’s wearing three layers and a hoodie. He’s wearing the thermal layer his mom bought for him, which is designed to be worn under fucking snow gear, and he’s still cold as he walks from the bookstore to Evan’s apartment building. 

Again. 

It’s been two weeks since he last saw Evan. Just over three since he left. 

In the last two weeks, he’s tried to get Evan to talk to him almost every night. 

Fuck, everyone in Evan’s apartment building must think Connor’s fucking crazy. This crazy guy wearing too many clothes in what’s still only just the beginning of fall, waiting outside the apartment building for his ex-boyfriend like a stalker. 

He’s acting insane. 

This is insane. 

He just can’t get Sabrina’s words out of his head. 

_“You fucking hated me for letting him leave, and then you did the same fucking thing! You let him leave when you_ know _he still loves you and_ you still love him! _When you_ know _he’s a fucking mess right now!”_

 _“If he hurts himself, if we lose him, it’s on_ you, _Connor. It’s_ your _fucking fault.”_

Zoe keeps telling him Sabrina’s wrong. 

That what she said was so completely wrong, completely unfair. 

But Connor knows the truth. 

This _is_ on him. 

Evan’s not okay, he’s not okay, he hasn’t been okay since Connor got sick and that’s on Connor, it’s Connor’s fault, it’s Connor’s fault. 

It’s Connor’s fault he nearly died, it’s Connor’s fault he nearly didn’t make it back, if he hadn’t let Dr. Weekes convince him to do the first experiment, he wouldn’t have fucked up his body in this universe, he wouldn’t have ended up not being able to breathe on his own. If he hadn’t made a will that said no extraordinary measures, then Zoe wouldn’t have had to make the call, his family wouldn’t have had to go through what they went through, Evan wouldn’t have gone through what he went through. 

Evan said goodbye to Connor. He let him go. 

And Connor didn’t even have the fucking decency to stay dead. 

Fuck. 

He knows it would kill his sister if she knew he were thinking like this. It would kill his parents, his friends, if they knew that part of him just wishes he’d died here. 

Wishes he’d stayed in the other universe. 

No. 

That’s not what he wishes, he knows. 

Deep down, he wishes the second experiment had just… failed. 

That he wasn’t stuck there anymore, but he wasn’t here, either. 

Here where his absence had done too much damage, where he’d been in a fucking coma that turned into a black hole that sucked up the happiness of everyone around him. 

That destroyed the man he loved. 

Sabrina’s right, this is on him. 

If he could just talk to Evan, maybe…

_Maybe nothing would be different at all._

When Connor gets to Evan’s apartment building, he waits outside, even though he knows he could let himself in. He still has a key to this apartment building. 

Evan didn’t ask for it back. 

Even when he saw him here two weeks ago and told him to go home, Evan still didn’t ask for the keys back. 

Maybe he’s forgotten about it. Maybe he doesn’t even remember that Connor ever had keys to Evan’s apartment. It’s not like Connor came around all that often. Most of the time they were at Connor’s apartment. 

The bookstore apartment he can barely face now, because it’s too painful a reminder of when they were happy. 

And a reminder of how quickly things fell apart. 

There’s a chill in the air. Connor can feel it on his face. 

He shivers involuntarily. 

He’s wearing so many fucking layers of clothing but he’s still so cold. 

There’s a book in his bag and part of him wants to read it. He takes it with him every time he waits outside Evan’s apartment, but can never bring himself to read it, because he doesn’t feel like he deserves that comfort. 

Doesn’t deserve to be doing something he loves while he waits for the man he loves, to try to fix the horrible mess he’s made. 

It’s really, really fucking cold. 

Connor shivers again. 

The wind is picking up and it feels like it’s going right through him, despite all the layers. He should have worn more clothes, he should have brought more layers, he should have…

He should have…

He’s not really sure. 

Not sure what he…

The world is getting fuzzy around the edges. 

Connor holds onto the glass of the door for a moment to steady himself. 

Everything sways, like the whole world is being swung around. 

Connor closes his eyes. 

And feels himself fall as everything fades away. 

* * *

Dinner was fucking brutal. His Grandma Norah was disappointed to hear Evan was single again and she started talking about setting him up with a nice girl she knew from temple and Evan stood up suddenly and just. 

Went and waited by the car. 

Didn’t bother saying thank you for dinner or saying goodbye to his grandmother, just left. 

His mom looked pissed when she emerged from the house forty minutes later. “Was that really necessary?” She said. 

“She was being a bitch,” Evan muttered, rubbing his temples. 

“You’d probably feel less like shit if you’d actually eaten anything,” His mom said when they were halfway home. 

“Doubt it,” He said quietly. “I seriously, seriously doubt it.”

He went straight up to his childhood bedroom, stripped out of his sneakers and nice clothes, and changed into pajamas. 

He realized with a jolt that the shirt he had packed was not his old speech and debate shirt, but actually one of Connor’s, some ratty old red shirt that they kept trading back and forth because it was really soft and nice for sleeping in and Evan. 

Cried over a t-shirt. 

He had been so careful to return everything he had of Connor’s. Keys, books, a pair of headphones, some flip flops he had borrowed in a pinch back at the beginning of June to run out and buy more condoms and then forgot to return. 

But he’d somehow missed this shirt. 

And it hurt. 

It hurt so much. 

Because he missed Connor constantly. He missed him every second of every minute of every single day, but he just. He couldn’t go back to him. He couldn’t put Connor at risk like that again, and he couldn’t trust Connor not to risk himself… 

It was just better this way. 

Evan passed out after a few hours, sleeping in his white undershirt and still cradling the ratty red sleep shirt to his chest when he woke up suddenly, his heart pounding really hard, knowing immediately that something was wrong, something was terribly wrong, but not knowing what it was. 

Evan tried to pace his childhood bedroom for a while, but that only made him more anxious. Something felt… wrong. Off. Like the universe was slightly off-kilter or half of his body was asleep or… something. Something wasn’t right. Something wasn’t right and Evan didn’t know what it was. He pulled out his phone and stared at it for a long time. 

He wondered if Connor would call or text if something was actually wrong. 

It wasn’t like Evan had blocked his number or anything. 

...Evan had thought about it, honestly, but ultimately decided it would be easier to know that technically he still had the option to call or text Connor without putting up roadblocks for himself. 

But he had really considered it the first time Connor showed up outside of Evan’s apartment, waiting for him after work one night. 

Evan had panicked. 

He hadn’t expected that Connor would try to get him back. He hadn’t expected Connor to try to fight to keep him once Evan left. 

He hadn’t expected it. 

...Something felt wrong. 

The wrong feeling didn’t fade all night. Evan barely slept. He tossed and turned and woke up in a cold sweat a few times, his hands freezing and shaking, never knowing what the fuck was causing him to be so on edge. 

He managed to drop off sometime around when the sun was going up, his eyes itching with tired, his nose and lips cold.


	66. SIXTY-FIVE

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> "I cannot lose you again, okay? I refuse. I fucking refuse to let anything happen to you."

“Connor. Connor, holy fuck, Connor, please, open your fucking eyes, fucking fuck, holy shit, Connor, come on…”

“What…” Connor manages to say, opening his eyes to find Alex’s terrified face swimming over him. 

His head hurts like a bitch. 

“Oh, thank fuck, what the fuck, Connor, holy shit,” says Alex, her voice full of relief. “What the fuck what the fuck, what are you doing here, it’s the middle of the night!”

“Waiting for Evan,” he says, trying to sit up but failing. There’s another set of arms around him, helping him steady, and it takes a moment for him to realize that it’s Mattie, her dark skin pale. 

“Evan’s not here,” says Mattie, her voice quiet and sad. 

Connor’s heart stops. 

It just stops. 

“What happened?” Connor demands. “Is he okay? What happened, what did he do, what the  _ fuck _ did he do?”

“He’s okay!” Mattie practically yells, clearly trying to calm Connor down before he starts fucking hyperventilating. “He’s okay, he’s with his mom. He went home for some Jewish holiday.”

“Yom Kippur,” Alex supplies helpfully. “Heidi insisted he come home for it.”

Connor feels like punching something. 

Preferably himself. 

“I’m such a fucking idiot,” he mutters. “I should have… I should have remembered, I always fuck that up, I always fuck everything up-”

“You have a key to our apartment,” Mattie says gently. “Connor, if you’re waiting for Evan, you can come inside.”

Connor shakes his head. “You know I can’t.”

Alex is just looking at him, her face tight and scared. “You passed out outside our apartment,” she says, her voice trembling. “You were waiting for Evan because you want to talk to him, waiting outside in the cold, barely two months after you got out of the fucking hospital, after you were in a completely medically impossible coma, after you nearly died. What the fuck what the fuck what the fuck.”

Mattie grabs Alex’s hand. “Alex-”

“When did you last eat?” Alex demands Connor. “I know you’re anemic, I was your fucking doctor.”

Connor tries to think and Alex lets out a sigh. 

“If you have to think about it that hard, then it wasn’t recent.” She looks at Connor with a deep frown. “Okay. We’re getting you on your feet and into our apartment. I’m getting some food into you, checking your vitals and calling your sister.”

Connor wants to argue. 

He really wants to fucking argue, but…

He just can’t. 

He’s too tired. Too cold. 

He lets Alex and Mattie help him up. Help him inside, to the elevator. Alex has to hold him upright, stop him from toppling over, and it would be excruciatingly embarrassing if he weren’t so fucking tired. Too tired to be properly humiliated like he damn well should be. 

He lets Alex and Mattie guide him to the sofa and closes his eyes. He can hear the two of them talking, something about burgers, and a few minutes later, Alex is shaking his shoulder again. 

“Stay with me,” she says, and Connor wants to protest that he wasn’t passing out again, he’s just so fucking tired. She looks pissed. “Okay, I’m checking your vitals. Mattie’s ordering food, then calling Zoe.”

“Okay,” says Connor meekly, and lets Alex check him out. 

Twenty minutes later, Connor’s eating what can only be described as a fucking huge burger. It’s probably tasty, but he’s not really able to focus on that right now. He’s too busy being fucking embarrassed that Alex is watching him eat, watching him carefully like she’s afraid he’s about to throw the burger at her and run down the stairs and escape. 

Like he’s got the fucking energy for that, fucking hell. 

“I’m really fucking sorry,” says Connor after he manages to make it through half the burger. “Let me know how much I owe you for the burger. And the medical care, I guess.”

Alex just stares at him. 

Like she doesn’t believe what the fuck she’s hearing. 

And Connor just… 

Breaks. 

Dissolves into tears. 

“Fuck,” Alex mutters. 

Mattie takes the burger off Connor’s lap and Alex wraps her arms around him tightly, and Connor just sobs on his ex-boyfriend’s roommate’s shoulder for what feels like forever. 

“You shouldn’t be being so fucking nice to me,” Connor manages to choke out. “You’re Evan’s people, you’re… you shouldn’t be being so nice to his fucked-up ex-boyfriend who’s been fucking stalking him for weeks because he…”

He can’t explain this. 

He can’t explain how badly he fucked up here. 

“I don’t know what the fuck is going on with him,” Alex says, her voice sad. “I don’t know, he won’t talk to us, he won’t… he didn’t even tell us why the two of you broke up.”

Connor just cries harder. 

He’s so scared. 

He’s so fucking scared. 

“I just need to know he’s okay,” Connor sobs, trying to explain, trying to make it sound like he’s not just some total freak who can’t let go of a man who obviously doesn’t want him. “I… it’s my fault, all of it is my fault and he won’t talk to me, he won’t… I knew he wasn’t doing well, I knew he wasn’t okay, and that’s my fault for getting sick, my fault for… for abandoning him, for nearly dying, and I… I…”

“Connor, what happened?” Alex asks, point blank. 

“I fucked up,” Connor says miserably. “I… I fucked it all up.”

Alex sounds almost angry now. “How? By getting appendicitis? By falling into a coma? How the fuck is any of that your fault, Connor?”

“I know it’s my fault,” Connor insists. “I know it is, I should have… I should have done things differently, I should have…”

_ I should have saved him.  _

_ I should have saved him.  _

_ Oh god, what if he kills himself? _

_ What if he’s already dead? _

There’s a pounding on the door, a frantic knocking, and Mattie gets up to answer it. Seconds later, Zoe’s at Connor’s side, hair flying across her face, in sweatpants and t-shirt, looking like she’s just gotten out of bed. 

“What time is it?” Connor asks, completely lost. 

“One am,” says Zoe, her voice shaky. “You… why were you passed out outside Evan’s apartment at one am?”

“He’s been working late,” Connor says, his voice miserable. “Really late. I… I’ve been trying to catch him, to talk to him, but I don’t want to visit him at work, I…” 

“Connor,” says Zoe, sounding heartbroken. She pulls him into a tight, tight hug. When she lets go, her face is pale and she looks terrified. “You can’t keep going like this.”

Connor shakes his head. “Zo, I need to talk to him, I-”

“He’s not even in town!” Zoe exclaims. “Mattie told me he’s back home. And even if he were here,  _ he left you! _ He left you, barely a month after you woke up from a coma! A month after you nearly fucking died!”

“You don’t understand, I-”

“I know you love him,” Zoe interrupts, her voice harsh. “I know you do. I know that the kind of love you feel for him isn’t the kind of thing you just… get over in an instant. But you are destroying yourself, Connor. You are… fuck, you’re jeopardizing your health! You… you nearly died, we nearly lost you and I will not fucking  _ let _ you destroy yourself over a man who abandoned you when you needed him most, okay? I will not let that happen.”

“Zoe-”

“No!” she yells, and she’s crying now, thick tears streaming down her face. “No, Connor, I’m not… I cannot lose you again, okay? I refuse. I fucking  _ refuse _ to let anything happen to you. You need to look after yourself. Please.  _ Please,  _ Connor, I cannot lose you now.” She looks at him, her eyes fierce. “I would not survive it.”

Connor feels his eyes tear up. “That’s how I feel about Evan,” he says weakly. “That’s how I… I’m so scared, Zoe, I’m so scared he’s going to hurt himself.”

“I know,” Zoe replies, her voice trembling. “So am I. But you cannot help him like this, especially when he’s made it clear he doesn’t want your help.”

It takes a while for Connor to feel strong enough to move, but when he does, Zoe’s helping him up and listening to Alex’s instructions. 

“He hit his head and I’m pretty sure he has a concussion, so you need to wake him up every few hours,” says Alex, her voice dark. 

“You should be taking him to the hospital,” Mattie says, sounding concerned. “They can-”

“The only people I trust in that hospital are standing in this room,” says Zoe, her face stony. “Not after… whatever the fuck happened last time. Not happening. I’ll stay with him tonight.”

“There are other hospitals in New York,” says Alex, looking almost reluctant to mention it, but Zoe just shakes her head. 

It’s like Connor doesn’t get to have a fucking opinion here. 

“He could stay here,” Mattie offers. “We’re both off the next few days, we can keep an eye on him. He could stay in Evan’s-”

“No,” says Connor immediately, because he absolutely, one hundred percent will not do that. 

Mattie looks horribly guilty. “Fuck, no, of course. You can stay in my room?”

Zoe hesitates.

Looks at Connor. 

“I can’t stay here, Zo,” he says softly. “Please don’t make me.”

Zoe looks torn. 

“Can I call you if I’m worried?” she asks Alex. “And can you… can you visit in the morning?”

“Of course,” says Alex. She looks at Connor, her expression hard. “Don’t be an idiot, okay? Don’t be a fucking idiot, let your sister look after you.”

“Please don’t tell Evan about this,” Connor pleads. “Please.”

Zoe lets out this harsh laugh. “Oh no, go ahead and tell him,” she says caustically. “Who knows? Maybe it’ll get his head out of his ass. Or maybe it’ll just send him deeper into that spiral of self-hatred he’s letting himself wallow in like a fucking coward.”

Connor’s heart hurts. “Please… please don’t talk about him like that.”

Zoe looks furious, but manages to pull herself together. 

“Fine,” she says with an irritated sigh. “Let’s get you home.”

* * *

The next morning, Evan’s mother was quiet on the ride to the airport. She looked tired. He wondered if she had slept badly. 

She sighed, frowning deeply. A couple of times. 

“Just say it,” Evan said irritably. “Whatever it is, just say it.”

His mom shook her head. “I don’t even know if it’s a good idea to tell you,” She said. “Connor went to your apartment last night.”

Again?

Fuck. 

The whole point, the whole fucking point, was to get Connor to stop taking stupid, unnecessary risks for Evan’s sake. The whole point was to get Connor away from danger, to make sure he stayed safe and sound and far as fuck away from Evan because he was a grenade with the pin pulled, he was dangerous and unstable and not fucking  _ worth _ risking Connor’s life over. 

Evan felt like he might be sick. 

“Alex and Mattie found him passed out in front of your building. He fainted and hit his head. He had a concussion and his temperature was dangerously low again.”

Evan felt like someone was squeezing his heart painfully in their palm, crushing it easily. He opened and closed his mouth a few times. 

“You know how sick he was,” His mom went on, “And he’s… he’s risking his health to try to get you to talk to him, he’s-”

“Stop,” Evan said softly, holding his hands up in surrender. “I get it. I’m terrible, I’m a monster for leaving, I get it. Please stop.” He cleared his throat, his eyes stinging. “Is… Is he okay?”

“Didn’t you hear me? He has a concussion -”

“But nothing worse?” Evan said, his voice small. “He didn’t have to go back to the hospital did he?”

“I don’t see why you should care,” His mom said icily. “Seeing as you bailed on him the moment things got hard.”

“That’s not what happened,” Evan said, but he couldn’t protest too hard, couldn’t argue because then he’d have to give her a good reason and there wasn’t one. Not a logical or sane one at least. Not one she would accept. “I’m just… I’m not good for him, mom. He keeps hurting himself over me and I… I couldn’t keep letting him. I’m not a good person. I’m not good for him.”

“You know what that sounds like to me?” His mom said. “Sounds like some bullshit excuse that you’re telling yourself to excuse your shitty behavior.”

“I -”

“You still love him,” His mom pressed on, her voice gaining volume, “You obviously still love him, and yet you left. You left him when he really needed you and I… I’m not sure I’ve ever been so disappointed in you in my life, Evan. I raised you better than this.” 

Evan opened his mouth to retort, throw that back in her face, say something awful and devastating about how many if she had been around or hadn’t run off his dad, maybe Evan would have had a better concept of how to be a good person. 

But he couldn’t. 

He’d disappointed her. He knew that he had but it hurt more than he expected to hear her say it to him. 

His mom’s eyes were glistening with unshed tears. “I guess I just thought… I just thought that after everything you and I went through after your dad left, that I had raised someone who knew you didn’t just walk out when things got hard. I thought I had raised you to be a better man than he is.” She wiped her cheeks angrily. “I guess I was wrong. I guess I really fucked that up, didn’t I?”

Evan felt like the wind had been knocked out of him. 

She had never… not even once had his mom ever compared him to his dad. Not since the day Carl fucked off to Colorado in that Uhaul. 

It hurt. 

It felt like somebody had hacked open in his chest with an axe and pulverised his heart. Evan felt like he couldn’t quite draw breath, like he was underwater, so far under that it would be easier just to give up and swim down. 

She didn’t say anything else on the rest of the drive to the airport. She dropped him at his gate, opting not to park and walk him to the security line like she usually did. 

“Thank you for having me home,” Evan said, his heart hurting, his throat unnaturally tight. 

“Yeah,” She said distantly. 

“I love you,” Evan said softly, pleading. 

“I love you too,” His mom said, her eyes sad. “I hope whatever it is that’s going on with you… I hope you feel better soon, honey. I know you’re in pain, and I’m trying my best to be here for you, but…. Just. I hope you feel better soon.”

Evan swallowed hard. Nodded once. 

He managed to get through security before he lost his composure. He dashed into the first bathroom he could and locked himself into one of the few stalls and commanded himself not to fucking cry. So his mom was angry with him. Nothing he hadn’t dealt with before. He could get through it. 

The important thing was Connor was okay and safe and far, far away from Evan. 

When Evan was waiting at his gate a few hours later, he hardly paid attention as people appeared at the next gate over because a flight from LAX was deplaning. He wouldn’t have paid it any mind if someone hadn’t started suddenly saying Evan’s name. 

He shook his head, surprised to see Nick Schultz standing in front of him, looking tan and smiling broadly. “Oh my god, Evan! Hi!”

“Hi!” Evan said with a small smile. Nick and Evan had graduated high school together, then suffered a somewhat arduous year together at the local community college taking their gen ed credits together. He hadn’t seen Nick since his first year of law school when Evan and Sabrina had bumped into him around Thanksgiving. “What brings you to town?”

“It’s my mom’s birthday,” Nick said with a big smile. “I come back and visit her on her birthday every year.”

“That’s awesome,” Evan said, trying to smile. 

“You?”

“Ah, yesterday was Yom Kippur.”

“Right,” Nick said with a smile. “It’s cool you came home for that.”

“Yeah I missed it the last few years. Law school and then I was a first-year associate and then last year…” Evan trailed off. 

“Last year?”

Evan cleared his throat. “Last year my boyfriend was sick.”

“Oh shit, I’m sorry.” Something like realization dawned on his face. “Weren’t you and Connor Murphy dating?”

Evan nodded, trying not to tear up. “We uh. Broke up.”

“I’m so sorry,” Nick said and he looked it. He actually looked it. “I heard he was really ill over the summer.” 

“He was,” Evan said, his voice breaking. “He’s doing better now. From what I hear.”

“When did you two split up?”

Evan almost smiled. “A few weeks ago?”

“Oh damn,” Nick said. “I’m… dude I am really sorry. That sounds like a really tough time.” He clapped Evan on the shoulder. 

And Evan realized he thought that Connor had dumped  _ him.  _

And Evan didn’t correct him. 

For once he wanted to allow himself to be pitied. 

“Well, I gotta head out, my car’s waiting,” Nick said. “Nice seeing you.”

Evan nodded. “Good to see you too.”


	67. SIXTY-SIX

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> "I think some time away will do you good.”

Connor wakes up from an afternoon nap the next day just in time to hear the front door to his apartment open. Edgar meows, then scurries out of the bedroom to investigate, and Connor follows him to see his mom letting herself in, armed with a suitcase. 

The moment she notices him, she heads straight toward him and pulls him into a tight, tight hug. 

“Zoe called me,” she says, her voice tearful. “Connor, sweetheart, you…”

“I’m sorry,” Connor mumbles into her shoulder. Fuck, it’s good to see his mom. He hates that it’s so good to see her, hates the part of him that’s just so fucking relieved to see his mother at almost thirty years old. 

She holds onto him for a long time. When she finally pulls away, she reaches out and tucks a piece of hair behind his ear. “Zoe’s coming over after work,” she says softly. “She’s bringing Thai, and the bookstore kids are joining us for dinner.”

“Okay,” says Connor, too tired to argue.

He helps his mom get settled into the spare room. She looks so sad as she puts her bag in the room, running her hand over the blanket Martha made that’s on the bed. Then she heads to the kitchen and he lets her make cups of tea and the two of them sit on the sofa in the living room and watch TV mindlessly together for a while, not really talking. 

It feels like no time has passed when the front door opens again, and Zoe shows up with bags and bags of thai food, Jax, Maureen and Leslie on her heels. They all pile into the living room, and Leslie and Maureen go to get plates and cutlery while Zoe and Jax set out the food, Zoe pointing out the vegan options and making sure they’re separate. 

The six of them eat and chat politely for a while, but once everyone’s had their fill it goes quiet and they all look at Connor. 

Which is when he realizes this is some kind of fucking intervention. 

“So we’ve made a game plan,” says Zoe, looking at Connor, her voice even but firm. “For the next little while, so we can all be sure that you’re safe.”

“I’ve booked a flight for us to head back home at the end of the week,” says Connor’s mom, a little tearfully. “You and me and Edgar. We think you need some time away from the city to recover and get your strength up.”

Connor shakes his head. “I can’t leave-”

“You can,” says Leslie firmly. “If you can do the admin from home, then the three of us can easily take care of the store for as long as you need. We’ll keep in touch, we’ll see how it goes, but we can make it work.”

“You’re only doing a few hours a day in the store anyway,” Zoe points out. “And given everything, a clean break might just make things safer for you.” 

Connor frowns. “I don’t-”

“This isn’t up for negotiation,” Zoe says firmly. 

Connor feels his shoulders sag. 

He hates this. 

He hates it so much. 

He hates that he’s being forced to go back home, he hates that it’s not really home anymore, he hates that Evan’s gone, he hates that he can’t help him. 

And he hates that part of him is just fucking relieved that a decision is being made for him. 

“While you’re home, we’ll get contractors in to upgrade the heating in this place,” says his mom, reaching out and squeezing his hand. “So that when the weather gets really bad, you’ll be warm enough during the winter.”

“The plan is to give you some time to get your strength up so you’re around for Black Friday and the holiday season,” says Leslie sensibly. “That’s when things start to get really busy around here. It just makes sense to plan ahead.”

Connor really wants to argue. 

Wants to yell and scream and tell them all that he’s a fucking adult and that they can’t just decide that they know what's best, they can’t just pack him up and ship him back to his hometown. 

But it makes sense. 

Fuck, what they’re saying makes sense, for his health, for his business. 

For his sanity. 

“Sweetheart,” says his mom, squeezing his hand. “We all love you. So much. We just want you happy and healthy. And I think some time away will do you good.”

Connor sniffs. Wipes his face. 

Nods. 

“Okay,” he says, his voice small to his own ears. “Okay.”

* * *

The following Monday morning, Evan got a call on his cell and he felt so miserable that he answered on the second ring, just desperate for someone to talk to who wouldn’t make him feel worse about himself. 

“Mr. Hansen! This is Miranda Santiago from McLaren, Hunt, and Simon. How are you?”

“Fine,” Evan said. Lied. Whatever. He had been dodging her calls for weeks now. Ever since the fishing waste case had closed. 

“We’ve been desperately trying to connect with you!” She said, her voice a little too enthusiastic for Evan’s tastes. “We were really impressed by the latest string of wins you’ve managed. Very impressed. Mr. McLaren really wants to schedule a meeting with you to discuss your future.”

Evan’s heart might have skipped a beat. 

This could… this could help. 

If Connor was showing up at his apartment and hurting himself, he might show up at Evan’s office next. He might make a scene and every time Jonathan looked at Evan lately he could practically feel the judgment and disappointment rolling off of him. He might do even more damage, risk his health more, hurt himself more for no good reason and Evan… 

Considered his options. 

He could take this job, Evan realized. He could take this job and stay far from Connor. Connor would never step foot into McLaren’s offices. He would never come near there no matter how much he swore to Evan he wasn’t giving up on him. 

Evan needed Connor to give up. It would be easier of Connor just gave up. 

“Tell McLaren I won’t settle for anything less than a twenty five percent pay raise and a junior partnership.”

Miranda Santiago sounded extremely pleased to hear this. She giggled. “Of course, Mr. Hansen, of course! I’ll let him know right away. I’m so excited to hear you’ll consider our offer I -”

“Thanks, have a nice day,” Evan said shortly. 

McLaren’s firm came back within the hour to agree to Evan’s terms. He’d have to sign a three year contract, but they were willing to pay him what he’d asked and name him a junior partner which was… unheard of, really. 

Unheard of. 

Evan was almost excited because… that was good. A good career move. He should tell Connor, he should -

No. 

Evan couldn’t tell Connor because he had broken up with Connor because Evan was a bad fucking person who could only hurt Connor no matter how much he tried to love him. He could not tell Connor. 

Besides, Connor would tell him not to take it. That working with McLaren was like playing with fire. That Evan would get burned. 

Evan swallowed hard. Pushed those thoughts down. 

Once he received the contract from McLaren’s people, it was pretty short business. He signed the papers, he faxed them over, and then he typed up a resignation letter and gave it to Jonathan along with his two weeks’ notice by the end of the week. He looked gobsmacked when Evan told him where he was going. 

“McLaren? You’re going to work for that piece of shit? You told me you hated him.”

“He’s offering me junior partner,” Evan said plainly. “I’d be a fool to say no.”

“You’re a fool to say yes,” Jonathan said. “That guy is… scum. Not just because he’s a terrible, ruthless, morally absent motherfucker, but because he… Look, Hansen, you interned for him. You’ve got to have heard the rumors -”

“Thank you for your concern,” Evan said softly.

“We should talk about this, I’ll talk with the other partners, make you a counteroffer -”

“I’ve already signed the contract. This is a done deal. My last day will be two weeks from now.”

“I hope you know what you’re doing Hansen,” Jonathan said, looking almost… sad. 

* * *

Packing a suitcase for a trip home with no return ticket is overwhelming. 

It’s too much. 

It’s just too much. 

Connor’s mom ends up doing most of the packing because Connor’s just… wrecked. Completely exhausted. Completely numb, completely…

It’s all too much. 

He sits on the sofa with Edgar curled up on his lap, purring loudly, letting out these occasional distressed meows, like he’s worried that Connor’s going to disappear on him. 

“You’re okay, buddy,” Connor murmurs to his cat. “We’re sticking together, okay? I’ve got you. We’re gonna be okay.”

The night before Connor, Edgar and Connor’s mom fly back to his hometown, the bookstore kids and Zoe come around for dinner. Maureen brings homemade cupcakes which are beautifully decorated with little cat faces, which makes Connor smile. 

“You can take the rest home with you,” she says, her eyes soft and kind. 

“Thank you,” Connor manages to say, giving Maureen a tight hug. 

They order Indian food and talk about the store. Leslie assures Connor that everything’s under control, that she’s got this, that he has nothing to worry about when it comes to The Little Book Nook. 

He tells her that he believes her, because he does. 

The bookstore will be fine without him. 

Fuck, everything will be fine without him. 

He’s…

Fuck, he’s such a fucking idiot. He went to all this effort to try to talk to Evan. All this effort to come back from another reality and…

_ “I will not fucking  _ let _ you destroy yourself over a man who abandoned you when you needed him most.” _

Fuck. 

He’s such a fucking idiot, fuck. 

Connor eats what’s put in front of him. Has one of Maureen’s cupcakes, which is probably delicious but he can’t really taste anything right now. He feels numb and stupid and humiliated and devastated and just… hopeless.

Just hopeless.

When Leslie, Jax and Maureen head off, they all hug him tightly. Tighter than they ever have before. Leslie holds on for a long time, kisses him on the cheek and tells him to take care.

“Get well for us, okay?” she says gently. “Get well and rest up and come back to us. We’re going to miss you so fucking much.”

“You’ll be fine,” Connor assures her.

Leslie blinks a few times, almost aggressively. “We’ll keep the place running smoothly,” she says. “For you. Because we love you, okay? We love you so fucking much.”

“I love you guys, too,” Connor replies, and there’s something warm in his chest. 

A tiny ember, melting through the ice.

He’s a fucking idiot, sure, but… people care.

People genuinely care. 

It might be okay. 

Not long after they leave, Zoe heads off too, telling him she’ll be there in the morning to see them off. She hugs him tightly as well, then pulls back and looks at him. 

“Make sure Mom feeds you real food,” she says bluntly. “You’re way too fucking skinny.”

“She talked about hiring a nutritionist,” Connor says wearily. 

Zoe rolls her eyes. “Of course she did.” She sighs. “Normally I’d say that’s overkill, but it might not be the worst idea.”

“Remember how she basically went out and bought an entire cow’s worth of steak when we first found out I was anemic?” Connor jokes weakly. “Overkill is kind of Mom’s go-to move.”

Zoe hugs him again. “Be safe, okay? Be safe and look after yourself and… don’t be stupid. I need you back here. Back in the city with me. It doesn’t feel right without you.”

Connor kisses the top of her head affectionately. “I’ll be back before you know it.”

He’s worried that he won’t sleep that night. Worried he’ll be up all night freaking out about the fact that he’s leaving the city, leaving Evan, admitting defeat and giving up. 

But sleep comes easily. 

  
  


“That was… the worst movie I have ever seen in my life. Possibly the worst movie to ever exist.”

Connor raises his eyebrows at Evan as they turn the corner. They’re three blocks from the movie theater and this is the first thing he’s said. 

“That is a bold claim,” Connor says with a smirk. “There are some pretty bad movies out there.” 

Evan lets go of Connor’s hand and starts gesturing wildly. “The plot made no sense! No sense at all! It was all just… fake deep and weird and what was even happening? What was it even about?”

“I don’t think there was a plot, exactly,” Connor points out, grinning properly now, because seeing Evan get mad about something is one of his favorite things. “It was supposed to be abstract. It’s French.”

“It’s terrible.”

“It’s art.”

“It’s  _ terrible _ ,” Evan insists. “It was too loud and too weird and basically just an assault on the senses. I have a fucking headache after watching that.”

Connor puts his arm around Evan’s waist. Kisses the side of his head. 

“Your poor head,” he says gently. “I think I’m out of painkillers, we should stop and get some.”

“I’ll be fine,” Evan insists immediately. 

“You’ve had lots of headaches recently,” Connor points out, frowning a little. “Maybe you should go see a doctor. Or an optometrist.”

“I’m fine,” Evan says stubbornly. “And I don’t need painkillers. I’ll just… power through it.”

Connor rolls his eyes. “Evan. Come on.” He kisses his head again. “Let’s go to the bodega, yeah? We’ll get some Tylenol and a KitKat, it’ll make you feel better.”

Evan pouts but allows Connor to change their course. Connor keeps his arm firmly around Evan’s waist and Evan leans into him, warm and solid and so, so fucking beautiful. 

Connor can’t help it. He has to lean in and kiss him properly. 

Evan kisses him back immediately, smiling against Connor’s lips. 

He loves him so much. So fucking much. 

“The only use for that fucking film is as a means of torture,” Evan says after a moment. “And even then I am pretty fucking sure it breaks the Geneva convention.”

“Oh my god, Evan.”

“That’s two hours of my life I’ll never get back, Connor!”

Connor just blinks at him. “I kind of liked it.”

Evan glares at him. “You did not.”

“I did too!”

“You looked like you were in pain the whole time!”

“That’s because I was sitting on a gumball. It was not comfortable at all.”

Evan glares at him even harder. 

Connor grins widely. 

“You are such a little shit,” Evan says, his tone hovering between affectionate and irritated, which is success in Connor’s book. 

“You love me,” Connor replies immediately. 

“I do,” Evan says, equally quickly. He looks at Connor, this intense expression in his eyes, something horribly sad crossing over his face. “I love you. I will love you forever. I will love you until I can’t anymore.”

_ Liar, _ Connor thinks, his stomach churning uncomfortably, this horrible, aching feeling opening up his chest.

Evan looks so sad. So horribly sad. 

Connor wants to say something. He doesn’t know what. 

He wakes up alone in his bed. 


	68. SIXTY-SEVEN

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> “Love isn’t always enough. You and I both know that.”

Evan got home at a respectable time. Perks of having quit his job, he supposed. No point in overworking himself for a job he would be leaving so soon. 

He should have known it was a trap. 

Because Zoe Murphy was waiting outside of Evan’s door when he got home. 

He should have seen that coming. He really should have seen that coming. 

“Hi,” Evan said quietly, his heart pounding too much, too hard. “Is-”

“Connor’s fine,” Zoe said. “Or at least, he will be. No thanks to you.”

He supposed he deserved that. His heart slowed slightly. “Do you want to come inside?” Evan asked her, keeping his voice low. 

Zoe nodded curtly. 

Evan opened the door and Zoe followed him inside. Mattie and Alex were, unsurprisingly, not home. 

“Can I get you anything to drink?” Evan asked her politely. He didn’t know why he was bothering. He knew why she was here, but there he was, trying to be courteous and hospitable. 

She frowned. Heaved a sigh. “Connor is back home.”

Evan hadn’t known that. “Oh.”

“Yeah,” Zoe said. “He had to go home because… He’s hurting himself. Because he keeps showing and trying to talk to you and last time. Last time he tried he passed out in front of your building and gave himself a fucking concussion and you didn’t even have the decency to find out if he was okay. So he’s home. Because he needs to rest and get well and… He needs to get the fuck out of the city for a while. He needs to get the fuck away from you.”

Evan swallowed hard. 

Zoe looked near tears. “We had to convince him to leave the city so he’d stop tearing himself apart, risking his health… for  _ you _ . And you don’t even fucking care.”

Evan shook his head. “I care…. I -”

“Don’t lie to me,” Zoe said, shaking her head angrily. “Where the hell have you been if you care so much?”

Evan opened and closed his mouth a few times. “Zoe… It’s not my place to show up and check on him… Connor and I broke up.”

“You mean you left him.” 

Evan swallowed hard. “It doesn’t mean I stopped caring, I didn’t stop caring I love him I just -”

“You don’t leave people when they’re in need when you love someone, Evan. You don’t… you don’t break up with them for no fucking reason a month after they almost died because you  _ care _ .”

“You don’t understand,” Evan said softly. He couldn’t explain it but couldn’t stand hearing her tell him that he didn’t care. He cared. He cared so much it was breaking him, tearing him up inside. He hated that Connor kept hurting himself for Evan and he wanted to put a stop to it. He cared. “He… I’m trying to protect him. I’m not good for him, Zoe.”

“Yeah, no shit,” Zoe snapped. “You’re an asshole. A callous, cowardly, heartless fucking… monster.” She shook her head, her eyes tearing. 

Evan took that like a punch. It hurt it hurt it hurt it hurt. “You’re right. I am… I am a monster, I’m-”

“Oh don’t try that self-pitying bullshit on me, Evan. It’s not going to work. You don’t get to try to make yourself feel better about what you’ve done just because you have a negative self image.” She was clenching her hands into fists. “God, I… When Connor called me, saying you were gone? I mean, Jesus, you know I thought… It genuinely didn’t even occur to me that you would do something this cruel. That you would bail on him. I knew you weren’t well, I knew you were pretty fucking fucked up but I genuinely never thought you’d do  _ this _ .”

Evan never thought himself capable of leaving either. He didn’t want to be. He wished he were better but he wasn’t and it had put Connor in danger, it had risked him and Evan couldn’t…. He couldn’t risk him. 

Evan swallowed hard. “Look, are you here to tell me to talk to him?”

Zoe let out a hollow laugh. “No. I’m here to tell you to stay the fuck away from my family.”

Evan thought for a moment he had stopped breathing. “Oh.”

“You and-and your people need to stay out of our lives,” Zoe said. 

“My people?” Evan repeated, not understanding. 

“You and your… fucking attack dog, Sabrina,” Zoe said. 

“I… Did Sabrina do something?” Evan asked, his heart racing. “I don’t know what you’re talking about, I’m sorry, I didn’t -”

“It doesn’t matter,” Zoe said sharply. “You need to stay the hell away from him. From  _ all _ of us. You’ve done enough fucking damage, don’t you think?”

_ Yeah _ , Evan thought. He’d done more than enough. 

“I trusted you. I trusted you with him and you fucking left.”

“I’m  _ sorry _ ,” Evan said helplessly. “I never meant to -”

“I thought you were my  _ brother _ ,” She said viciously, tears spilling over. “I thought you were my family. That you were someone who loved him, who cared about him the way I do and you fucking threw that away. You threw him away like it was nothing. After we almost lost him, you threw it all away. Like Connor meant nothing, like I…”

“I’m so sorry,” Evan said softly. 

“When he first started talking to you, I told him he should stay away from you” Zoe spat. “I told him he needed to be smart about it, I said it could be dangerous to get close to someone who was struggling with their own mental health when Connor had his stuff, and he was stubborn. He insisted he could handle it and… That you were important and worth the risk. And I…  _ Fuck _ , I trusted him. I trusted  _ you _ . I trusted you because you said you loved him.” 

“I do,” Evan said, shaking his head. “I do it just… I’m not good for him Zoe.”

“Well at least you’re right about something,” She said caustically. “You’re not good for him. You’re not good for anyone. You’re… selfish and pathetic and-and small and scared and I can’t believe I fucking trusted you.”

She let out a humorless laugh. “Evan, fuck, you know I… I fucking vouched for you? To my mom. She wasn’t going to go back home, she didn’t think you could handle things with Connor. She saw how messed up you had been when he nearly died, and she was seriously thinking about staying for a few more weeks and I stuck my neck out for you.  _ I  _ told her how much you loved him and how hard you were working to keep it together and… I vouched for you. I told her you would do right by Connor no matter what. I trusted you, I loved you like a brother and this is how you fucking repay me? By leaving. By hurting the one person we both love the most.”

“Zoe I am… I am so sorry.”

“What fucking good does sorry do me?” She said. “What good does that do Connor?”

“I know how much I fucked up,” Evan said softly. “I know… I’m so sorry.” Evan realized that somewhere along the line, he had started to cry. “What can… What can I do to make this right? How do I make this right?”

“Stay the fuck away from my family,” Zoe repeated, her voice tremulous and angry, so fucking angry. “Do not come near my brother again. Ever.”

“I…” Evan gulped painfully. 

“You’re… God, you’re so fucked up, Evan. You are… an extremely sick person and I genuinely think you need some serious help.” Zoe wiped her face, packing her emotions away neatly. “But not from Connor. Not from my family. Some day you’re going to wake up and realize how much of a mistake you’ve made, how much you’ve fucked up, how much he loves you, and when you do you have to know that you can’t ever come crawling back. Not now. Not after this. Connor deserves so much better than to be collateral damage in your fucked up life. So... You want to make things right? You want to know what you can do? Don’t contact him. Don’t call or text or email, don’t show up to see if he’s okay, don’t even fucking think about Connor. He doesn’t exist to you anymore. You’ve forfeit that right.” 

“Zoe… Please, I -”

“That’s all I came to say. Stay the fuck away from my family. Stay out of our lives.”

She swept out of Evan’s apartment. 

And Evan’s legs gave out under him and he just stayed there, collapsed, sobbing, for hours. Because she was right she was so right she was so fucking right.

* * *

The first week back in his hometown is just… a blur. 

Connor sleeps a lot. Just sleeps, curled up under a billion blankets, in the guest bedroom that’s not really his in a house he didn’t grow up in. Edgar doesn’t leave his side, not even for a second, following Connor everywhere he goes, even going as far as to sit outside the bathroom when he showers or pees, waiting for him to be done. 

Edgar doesn’t seem to care that he’s been dragged halfway across the country. He just cuddles up to Connor, or takes his usual spot on his shoulder, or very occasionally, cautiously ventures to rub his face around Connor’s mom’s ankles, but only if Connor’s nearby. 

Evan used to tease Connor about how protective Edgar was of him, and Connor would always reply that it wasn’t just him Edgar wanted to look after. Edgar had been protective of Evan, too. 

Edgar had always loved Evan, ever since the first day Connor brought him home. 

Fuck, that hurts to think about. 

When Connor’s not sleeping, he works on admin for the store. He’s not as caught up as he should be, and it stresses him out enough that he ends up having an anxiety attack, so after the first few days, his mom starts helping out by answering the occasional email, talking things through with him, just being there and supporting him. 

“Don’t push yourself,” she keeps saying, her voice gentle. “You’re here to get well.”

“I know,” he replies wearily every time. “I’m trying.”

His dad stops by a lot. 

Almost every evening for the first week. He shows up with take-out from various restaurants around town, making the occasional comment about how there’s much less variety here than in New York. Connor doesn’t really care, because everything tastes like cardboard, but he knows he needs to eat, even if he doesn’t want to. 

He owes it to his parents to eat, to keep up his strength, to not waste away in front of them, even though the voice inside his head is screaming that he doesn’t deserve any of this, that he fucked up, that there’s no point to any of it, no point to any of it, that he fought and fought and fought and fought to get back to a man who didn’t want him and that’s pathetic, beyond pathetic, and he should just… disappear. 

He overhears hushed conversations between his parents, even though he’s trying not to eavesdrop. 

His mom, it turns out, is pissed. 

Pissed at Evan. 

“I don’t understand,” Connor had overheard her saying to his dad. “I don’t understand how he could do this. How he could just leave, after everything. I thought… I thought we could trust him with Connor, I thought he  _ loved _ him-”

“He does,” his dad had said, almost immediately, and it had felt like a stab to the heart. “He… Cynthia, there is not a single doubt in my mind that Evan loves him.”

“Then why would he leave?”

“Love isn’t always enough,” Larry had said, something heavy and meaningful in his voice. “You and I both know that.”

His mom had taken in a sharp breath then. “Larry,” she’d said, her tone deliberately even. “We talked about this. We agreed-”

“I know what we agreed, Cynthia,” Connor’s dad had interrupted. He’d sounded so, so sad. “I just think it’s worth keeping in mind that things are rarely black and white.”

Connor had left then, not wanting to hear any more about his ex-boyfriend, about his parents’ failed marriage, about whatever it was that was going on between them now. 

He just wanted to sleep and pretend that none of this had happened. 

That it had all just been some horrible nightmare. 

He and his mom are having sandwiches for lunch when his mom looks at him, her expression careful. “Heidi called me earlier,” she says after a moment. “She wanted to know if it would be okay if she visited.”

Connor’s immediate reaction is to refuse. 

He doesn’t want to see his ex-boyfriend’s mom. 

He’d just… break down if he saw her, he’s sure of it. 

But then he thinks about everything she did when he was recovering. All the help with his physical therapy, her patience, her kindness. How she’d cared, genuinely cared about him, hugged him tight and told him that she loved him as she left. 

How he’d wanted more than anything to take some of her pain away in the other reality, the reality where Evan was dead. 

Heidi’s Evan’s mom, that’s true. 

But she’s Connor’s friend. 

He thinks she is, anyway. He doesn’t have a great track record with Evan’s people these days. Sabrina yelling at him, telling him that anything that happened to Evan was on him, Alex and Mattie calling his sister and putting in motion the chain of events that got his ass shipped back home to his mom…

That’s not fair, he thinks to himself. 

Of course Alex and Mattie had called his sister. 

Of course Zoe had called their mom. 

He’s got no one to blame but himself for that one. 

“Not today,” Connor says finally, realizing his mom is waiting for a response. “But… soon? I just… need a bit of time.”

His mom smiles at him and squeezes his hand. “Of course, sweetheart.”


	69. SIXTY-EIGHT

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> “It’s just business. No need to take it so personally.”

The only person Evan was really dreading telling about leaving the firm was Mariah, but, as luck would have it, her uncle passed away his last week so she was home for the funeral when the news spread. Evan was sure that someone would email her or text her, so he sent an email of his own. Bland, impersonal…

Mariah was one of his closest friends but she was also sort of dating Zoe. And Evan had no energy to try to go toe to toe with Zoe over Mariah’s attention. 

He realized he was cutting people off but… honestly it was easier. Evan forgot how much simpler things were when you had nobody. No friends meant no constantly trying and failing to make plans. No boyfriend meant he was free to work as late as he wanted in the evenings. The way he was going, he only saw Mattie and Alex once a week, and Mattie had just been offered a raise to work the night shift for a few months to cover someone’s maternity leave, which meant that Alex would likely try to trade shifts to be with her more. 

That suited Evan just fine. 

Simplified things. 

Sure he was miserable but, really, when wasn’t Evan miserable? 

He just… he didn’t care. He needed to not care anymore. Caring had gotten him nowhere, had only gotten him hurt, so he was done. He was done caring, he was done giving a shit, he was just done. 

Just fucking over it all. 

He hadn’t gone to law school to make friends anyway, Evan reasoned. 

He was trying to do something good, and McLaren, Hunt, & Simon was filing a class action against a tobacco company that boasted their American made products but were actively poisoning their employees. Evan was going to get to work on that. 

That was what mattered to him. That was what he cared about. He needed to… finish out his two weeks, keep his head down and soon enough he’d be working on a class action suit. 

It would be a lot better. 

Nobody at McLaren, Hunt, & Simon knew Evan as the guy with the boyfriend in a coma. Nobody recognized Connor as the guy who would bring Evan food on his lunch breaks, perch on his desk and tease him for working too hard. Nobody there knew Evan at all. 

That had to be better than this. All of the stares and the whispers and tension. He could get back to just being a fucking attorney. What he got into this line of work to do. 

* * *

Heidi comes to visit on a night where Connor’s dad is busy at work and his mom has some kind of volunteer function. It’s weird and it gives Connor the distinct impression that he’s being babysat, but he has to admit he appreciates the company. 

He lets her in when she shows up and she holds up a bag full of Chinese food. “I got extra egg rolls,” she says in greeting, and pulls Connor into a tight hug before letting him escort her into the house. 

It’s a little awkward to begin with, both of them making awkward small talk as they serve up Chinese food onto plates, but Edgar quickly decides that Heidi needs to be paying him more attention and soon the tension kind of fades as Heidi pets Edgar’s belly and tells him he’s such a beautiful boy in the hilarious baby talk voice that Heidi’s always used with Edgar, and it starts to feel a bit more normal. 

“Cynthia says that you’re doing admin for the store from here,” says Heidi gently as they eat, Edgar purring against her ankles for a moment before jumping on the counter to investigate the sweet and sour chicken. “And that you were getting back into editing for the publishing company?”

“Yeah,” Connor says, nodding. He’s been talking to Dave and Mikhail more, checking on Leatherbird, because he feels like he’s been letting them down, ever since he took over The Little Book Nook full time. 

Dave, who’s in charge of the marketing side of things, had been super understanding about it. “We have a physical place where people can come buy our books now thanks to your store,” he’d said to Connor when Connor had admitted to feeling like he’d dropped the ball. “It’s made a huge difference. Huge. Not to mention the cross-promotion between The Little Book Nook and Leatherbird on Instagram.” He’d laughed a little and Connor could almost hear him shaking his head on the other end of the phone. “Seriously, dude, you have so many fucking followers.”

“It’s all Edgar,” Connor had said immediately with a grin. 

“Well, whatever it is, it’s helped us out, too. So don’t feel like you’ve dropped the ball.” Dave had sighed a little. “I mean, if you really want to do more editing, I’d welcome the help. I just don’t want you to overdo it, man. You were in a fucking coma.”

“I’m being careful,” Connor had insisted. “I’m back at my mom’s for a while so my apartment can get the heating updated before winter, and I’m… I’m getting there. I’m not… not totally okay, but I’m getting there.”

“I heard about what happened,” said Dave then, his voice sad. “I talked to Leslie at the store. She said… I’m sorry. Breakups are tough.”

“Yeah,” Connor had replied, resisting the urge to point out that Dave and Mikhail had broken up just after their senior year of college and managed to stay such good friends that they’re still successfully running a business together, so what the fuck does Dave know about breakups, really? 

Heidi smiles at him encouragingly, and Connor tries his best to smile back. 

When they finish eating, Heidi insists that he sit down while she takes care of tidying up, which he kind of hates, but doesn’t argue with because he’s exhausted. He’s always exhausted. He’s been exhausted for weeks, months even. 

It’s just… worse now, because he’s finally stopped fighting. 

He fought to get back to this reality. Fought to get well enough to get out of hospital. Fought to get walking, eating normally, to get his life back to normal. 

Then when Evan left, he fought to get him to talk to him. 

And that didn’t work. 

It didn’t work at all. 

“You don’t have to be so nice to me,” Connor finds himself blurting out. “I… if you want to yell at me or-or-or tell me I shouldn’t have let him go, you should just do it, I know I-”

“I’m not going to yell at you,” Heidi interrupts, her eyes big and sad. “Connor, sweetie… this isn’t your fault.”

Connor shakes his head. “It’s complicated,” he says weakly. “There are things I could have done differently, things I-”

“I’m not going to apologize on Evan’s behalf,” Heidi says, looking at him carefully, coming to sit with him at the kitchen island. “He is his own person and he makes his own decisions. I think he’s made a mistake. I hate… I hate that he’s hurt you, and I’m disappointed in how he’s handled things. And I’m sure there are things that I don’t know, that I shouldn’t know because they’re between the two of you, but the bottom line here is that you were recovering from something that could have killed you, and he walked out.” She shakes her head. “That’s… I didn’t raise him to be someone who would do that.”

“It’s not that simple,” Connor tries to explain. 

Heidi looks so sad. “It’s not that complicated, either.”

Connor and Heidi end up sitting on the sofa in the living room, watching reruns of Friends for a while. Every now and then, Heidi makes a comment about Ross being the worst, which makes Connor laugh, because he completely agrees. After a while, Heidi fishes out a packet of M&Ms from her handbag and hands them to Connor. 

“I know you like them,” she says simply. 

Connor blinks. 

The tears hit like an unexpected tidal wave. It’s like one minute he’s fine and the next he’s sobbing uncontrollably, and his ex-boyfriend’s mom is pulling him into hug, stroking his hair, rubbing his back and telling him that everything’s going to be okay, and it’s wrong it’s wrong it’s wrong it wasn’t supposed to be like this it wasn’t supposed to be like this he tried so hard he tried so fucking hard-

“I know you did,” Heidi says soothingly. “Sweetheart, I know you tried, I know you did, and I am so, so, so sorry you’re hurting, I am just… so sorry.”

Connor pulls away quickly. Wipes his face. Takes in a shaky breath. 

“I’m scared for him,” he whispers. “I… I know he’s…”

“I know,” says Heidi, her voice thick with emotion. “I know, sweetheart.”

* * *

He should throw out the cactus and succulent. 

He should. 

Or give them away. 

He just couldn’t… he couldn’t give them away. So Evan wrapped them up carefully and put them into the banker’s box he was using to clear out his desk. 

He’d worked here for just over two years, and all it amounted to were his degrees on the wall, a small collection of photos, and two small plants. Evan’s hands shook as he picked up the framed photo of him and Connor and Edgar, from last Thanksgiving. He had shoved it into a drawer at the end of August and just never pulled it out until now. 

He had been a bit aggressive when he’d put it into the drawer, Evan realized. The glass was spiderwebbed… 

Evan had broken the frame. 

Evan had broken everything. 

He ruined things that was all he was, someone who ruined things. 

Evan put the broken frame into his trash bin with numb fingers. Stared at it for a long moment, thinking about how fucking metaphorical the image was when he thought about it. 

Evan fucking hated metaphors. 

He hated everything. 

Someone knocked on his open door, and Evan tore his eyes away from the trashcan to see Asher in the doorway. He was frowning and twisting his new wedding band around his left ring finger. Evan wondered if every married person picked that habit up. If there was some kind of biological impulse that only kicked in when someone decided to start wearing jewelry for the first time. 

“Hey,” Evan said. 

“So it’s true?” Asher said. “You resigned?”

Evan nodded. “Got a better offer,” He said blandly. 

Evan did not say, “If I sit in this office anymore and think about all of the times Connor brought me food here, picked me up here, or visited me here, I’m going to kill myself.”

He did not say, “I can’t work here anymore because my boss is friends with my ex-boyfriend’s dad and I can’t stand the look of disappointment on his face whenever he remembers what I did.”

He did not say, “I cannot stay here because my ex-boyfriend keeps showing up at my house and if I leave, it’s one less place he can find me.”

“From Richard McLaren,” Asher said, his voice hollow. “I… I can’t believe you’d take that.”

“They offered me junior partner. It would be stupid to say no. Nobody says no to that,” Evan said with a shrug. 

“But… It’s Richard,” Asher insisted, clearly bothered, obviously upset and Evan had to hold himself back from caring. This wasn’t his fight. This wasn’t his problem. He didn’t… he didn’t owe Asher anything. 

“I know, he’s kind of an asshole.” Evan shrugged. “But I won’t be working directly with him very often.”

Asher stared at Evan, almost in disbelief. “But he… You said…” Asher blinked a few times, like he thought maybe he was imagining this. 

“I can’t let some awkward personal matter from years ago hold up my career,” Evan said, his voice smooth and just a little cold.

Asher’s eyebrows traveled up his forehead. “Oh. Is that what you’re calling what happened to you then?”

Evan bit down on the inside of his cheek and said nothing. 

“You know… I mean. You told me what he did to you. And… I told you how he... With me.” 

Evan kept his face neutral. 

“Don’t you even care?” Asher said, his voice hushed and pained. “That he hurts people? That he’s hurt both of us?”

Evan shrugged mechanically. “It’s just business. No need to take it so personally.”

“I thought we were friends,” Asher said, sounding really… hurt. Like a kicked puppy whining. Like a little kid. “You and I -”

“Just work together,” Evan said simply. 

It was easier, he thought. If he cut all ties. 

“You were going to stand up in my wedding,” Asher said, shaking his head. 

“I thought it might be awkward to work together if I told you no outright,” Evan said, his tone even, unmoved. He had to…. It was easier if he ended this. Made a clean break. Let Asher and Charles both off of the hook from dealing with his crazy. 

“What about the next intern that prick has? What about the next twenty-three-year-old kid who just wants to be a good intern, learn from a hotshot and ends up… What about them? Don’t you even care that he’s probably still doing that?” Asher asked then, his eyes flashing, and Evan realized, almost absently, just how much bigger than him Asher was. He was all muscle. He must work out, like, all of the time. He probably did squats at his desk. Lifted weights. 

He could knock Evan around easily. 

Evan sort of wished that he would. He’d deserve it. He’d deserve worse. 

_Coward coward coward coward._

“I’m not sure that’s my problem,” Evan said finally, putting a few books into the banker’s box. “Now if you don’t mind, I’m trying to clear my office out.” He gave Asher a pale imitation of a smile. “You always said you wanted my office. You can probably ask Jonathan for it.”

Asher’s jaw hung open. He looked so… hurt. 

Evan was getting pretty used to that look these days. He was getting better at not letting that hurt him back. 

“Did you at least tell Mariah?” Asher asked Evan, his tone pleading. “You two are like… you hang out all the time outside of work. You told her at least, right?”

Evan sighed. “I sent her an email.”

“An _email_?” Asher returned. “Wow.” He looked crushed. 

Evan wanted to take everything he had said back, he wanted to take it all back but… 

It was easier this way. 

Asher turned to go. 

“It’s been nice working with you,” Evan said with a faux-cheerful wave. 


	70. SIXTY-NINE

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> “A coma’s not a fucking day spa."

When Connor’s mom asks if he feels up to coming with her to the supermarket, Connor’s kind of surprised to find that he really wants to go. He’s tired, sure, and cold, but he’s always cold and he’s always tired, and a change of scenery could be good. 

The drive is weird and nostalgic, watching houses and streets fly by, streets and houses that he used to know so well but barely recognizes anymore. There are fences where there didn’t used to be fences, a new playground at the elementary school. They finally tore down the old water tower, which has looked like it could fall down at a moment’s notice since high school. 

It’s a mild October back in his home state, and his mom isn’t even wearing a jacket, just a cardigan, but Connor’s bundled up, layers and layers to combat the ever-present chill in his bones. It helps, he thinks, to be wearing so many layers, because it disguises how thin he’s gotten. 

He’s been trying to eat, but recently he’s just had no appetite. Always felt sick to his stomach. 

Still, he’s doing his best, and his mom makes sure to point out things he used to like as a kid as they go through the aisles, grabbing snacks that he knows are terrible for him just because he likes them, because she wants him to be eating. 

It’s sweet, he thinks. It’s nice to know that she cares. 

After a while, Connor takes over pushing the cart to help himself stay upright. He’s exhausted, but he doesn’t want to let on, and his mom keeps glancing at him with these big concerned eyes, and he’s pretty sure she’s about to call an end to the trip when someone turns the corner and greets his mom in a loud, enthusiastic voice. 

“Cynthia! I haven’t seen you in so long!”

“Oh boy,” Connor hears his mom mutter under her breath, before pasting on a smile and returning the greeting. “Rebecca, so nice to see you.”

It’s then that Connor realizes the woman isn’t alone and with a sickening feeling in his stomach, recognizes Jared fucking Kleinman, pushing a cart just like he is. 

Jared’s wearing a fucking fedora and Connor’s suddenly struck by the memory of Jared at Evan’s funeral in his… dream, hallucination, alternate reality fever, whatever. The guy is definitely going bald. Other than that, he looks the same as his teenage self. 

It’s like he’s frozen in time. Still the same graphic tees and shirts and shorts, still with that obnoxious smirk, it’s downright chilling. 

“And this must be Connor back in town,” says Rebecca Kleinman, looking right at Connor. “We all heard how sick you were, honey, it’s so good to see you on your feet.” Before Connor can respond, Rebecca Kleinman turns to his mom. “I’ve been meaning to ask you about your response to my beautification proposal, Cynthia, I feel like we can definitely come to some sort of compromise.”

Connor can see his mom kind of shift her jaw, set her shoulders, like she’s getting ready for a fight, and he kind of wants to watch his mom take this woman down, but before he knows it, Jared’s getting out from behind the cart and heading right toward him. 

“So,” Jared says, his tone fake cheerful, exactly like Connor remembers it. “Looks like you’re not dead.”

“Looks like it,” Connor replies drily. “Your observation skills are through the roof, Kleinman.”

“Way I heard it, you weren’t long for this world,” Jared continues, looking Connor up and down. As he does, something in his expression shifts, gets a little less smarmy and a little more… actually concerned. “Jesus fuck.”

“A coma’s not a fucking day spa,” Connor says with a roll of his eyes. “Trust me, I looked worse.”

Jared actually winces at that. “Dude, that’s… fuck.”

“Yeah,” Connor says, because… 

Fuck covers it, basically. 

Jared’s expression shifts again, his face flashes pink for a moment, then he looks Connor straight in the eye. “By the way, your boyfriend is an asshole.”

Connor feels that like a punch to the gut. 

“Not my boyfriend anymore,” he manages to say, surprised at how flat his voice comes out. “Didn’t work out.”

Jared looks… genuinely surprised. “Right.” He looks… curious. “So who’s the asshole there?”

“None of your fucking business,” Connor snaps. 

Jared holds his hands up in mock surrender. “Whoa, dude, chill out, I’m just asking.” He smiles at Connor then, this kind of… weird smile. “So how long are you in town? We should catch up. Go grab a drink. What do you say?”

Connor blinks. 

It genuinely takes him a moment to process, but when he does, he’s pissed. 

“I’d rather be in a coma,” he says, looking Jared straight in the eye. “Jackass.”

“Well, it’s been lovely talking to you, but we need to get home,” Connor’s mom says, her voice loud and determined. “Have a lovely rest of your day, Rebecca.”

With that, Connor’s mom puts her arm around his shoulder and all but pushes him and the cart toward the checkout. It doesn’t take them long to pay for their groceries and get back into the car, and Connor hates that he’s shaking, shivering, he’s so fucking cold. 

Connor’s mom is quiet as they drive home, until they pull into the driveway. “That woman,” she mutters. She looks at Connor, her face concerned. “I’m sorry I left you to deal with Jared,” she says, sounding ashamed of herself. She sighs. “Heidi told me that he called Evan while you were in hospital. Asked if it was true that you were in a coma.”

Connor feels genuinely sick. “Are you fucking serious?”

Connor’s mom nods, looking almost ill herself. “Heidi was furious.” Then the corner of her mouth quirks into a half-smile. “She ripped Rebecca to shreds over it at the synagogue the next time she saw her. In front of the rabbi.”

“Oh my god.”

Cynthia smiles, a proper smile this time. “The rabbi agrees that Jared Kleinman is a little shit.” 

Connor actually laughs at that. “Fucking hell.” After a moment, he figures he just has to get it off his chest. “He’s such an asshole. He… he said something about Evan, and I told him we broke up, and then he fucking asked me out.”

Connor’s mom’s eyes widen. “You’re kidding.”

“I told him I’d rather be in a coma,” Connor says. 

His mom looks like she can’t decide whether to laugh or cry. 

In the end, laughter wins out. “You have to tell Heidi,” she says with a grin. “And you have to make sure I’m there to watch her reaction.”

They sit there for a moment, both just… quiet. 

Connor doesn’t know what his mom is thinking about, not really. 

But he’s thinking about Evan. 

He’s always thinking about Evan. 

Connor’s dad is around a lot. A lot more than Connor expects, to be honest, considering his parents have been divorced since his freshman year at Columbia. Which was about ten years ago now. 

And it’s not like they really saw all that much of each other in the years leading up to that. His dad was never home, working nearly 100 hours a week, just to get away from Connor and the mess he’d made of their family. 

It’s really fucking weird, having Larry around all the time. 

It’s even weirder seeing that his parents are more than just civil to each other. They seem to genuinely enjoy each other’s company. 

Connor has no idea what to think, to be honest. Zoe’s said that while Connor was in a coma, they were at each other’s throats constantly, at odds about what to do. 

Larry had wanted to move Connor to a hospital closer to home. Cynthia had refused. 

Then when he took a turn for the worse…

Connor doesn’t know what to think about that. Zoe’s talked to him about it, talked him through a lot of what happened. They’ve had long Skype chats since he’s been home that have left them both drained but it’s been better, because at least Connor knows. 

Knows what happened in his absence. 

It all sounds… fucking horrible. 

Not that he had it any better, stuck in another reality with a dead boyfriend and family who barely knew him, but he can’t explain that to his family. 

Can’t really talk about it to anyone except Andi, and Andi’s in New York and busy with an exhibition. 

They email a bit, but there’s only so much Connor is prepared to talk about via email. 

It’s…

Awful and isolating and terrible. The whole thing is just terrible, because as far as his family is concerned, when he was in a coma he was just… out. 

They don’t know that he spent four months trying to get back home. Four months in another reality, versus three weeks in a coma. 

He…

He can’t really process it. Can’t really understand it, can’t really make it make sense in his head, and if he tells anyone, they’ll think he’s crazy. 

He’s not keen to spend any more time in the psych ward. That was not a fun time in either universe. 

Connor’s mom is around all the time and his dad is there too, as much as he can be with a demanding full-time job. A lot more than he was when Connor was in high school, that’s for damn sure. 

But Connor’s still lonely. Still has this awful, hollow feeling inside him. 

At least he has Edgar. 

Edgar, his tiny protector, who perches on his shoulder like he’s some kind of bird instead of a cat, who follows him everywhere, who cuddles up to him and kisses his face on the nights where the pain is just too much and Connor finds himself crying for no damn reason. 

Edgar is steadfast. A loyal companion. 

Connor loves him so much. He’s so glad he’s here. 

He remembers what Leslie said, a few weeks after he got out of the hospital. 

“Alex helped us smuggle Edgar into the ICU,” she told him, her voice sad. “He kept rubbing his face against your cheek, like he was trying to wake you up.” Connor remembers that she’d teared up then. “It’s stupid, but I kind of… thought that maybe it would work.” She’d given him a rueful smile. “Cat magic, or maybe true love’s kiss. Edgar adores you, Connor. He’s so glad you’re home.”

“What… what was going to happen to him?” Connor had asked Leslie then, his voice raw. “If I hadn’t made it?”

Leslie had started to cry properly then, tears running down her face. “We didn’t… we couldn’t make a decision about it,” she confessed, wiping her cheeks absently like she was angry at herself for crying. “But in those days leading up to… to pulling the plug, the three of us kind of… took shifts staying in the spare room with Edgar? Just so he wasn’t alone. We didn’t want him to be alone.” She wipes her face more aggressively, then looks at Connor. “We would have looked after him. Kept him safe and fed. And kept him at the bookstore, even if he came home with one of us every night, because it’s his home.”

Connor remembers feeling incredibly emotional about that. 

Emotional about the fact that his employees knew that Edgar belonged at The Little Book Nook. 

It almost feels cruel to have taken him away, but Connor thinks he’s allowed to be selfish and keep his cat to himself for a little while. And Edgar doesn’t seem to mind where he is right now, as long as he’s with Connor. 

He has, however, taken a couple of naps in the bookshelf in the living room, curled up between A Tale of Two Cities and Chicken Soup for the Soul. 

Connor makes sure to send Leslie, Maureen and Jax a photo.

A few weeks into Connor’s stay back home, his mom gets into some kind of argument with someone on a planning committee for… something, which results in nearly three solid days of barely polite phone calls. 

They want her to host some kind of event at the house. 

She’s really not happy about it.

“I don’t want to host a bunch of bitter old ladies at my house,” his mom grumbles over Chinese food on day two. His dad had brought over takeout. Even though it’s almost commonplace by now, it’s still kind of weird seeing Larry Murphy eating egg rolls in a suit at the kitchen island. “Not now, while Connor’s still recovering.”

“You’d think the ‘son was in a coma’ thing would get you some leeway,” Connor comments, and his dad flinches a little, like it’s too soon, too painful a reminder, and Connor feels bad immediately. 

“Apparently I’ve been playing that card a little too often recently,” says his mom bitterly. “For fuck’s sake.”

Connor still isn’t used to his mom actually swearing in front of him. It still lands strangely. 

He kind of likes it, though. 

“People are terrible,” Connor says matter-of-factly, and his dad kind of grunts in agreement as he helps himself to more sweet and sour pork. 

“How long is the thing supposed to be?” Larry asks, frowning a little. “It’s, like, a Saturday afternoon, right?”

“Right,” says his mom, sounding more and more annoyed. “It’s not fair on Connor to have the house invaded while he’s trying to recover.”

His dad puts down his chopsticks and looks at his mom. “If you really can’t get out of it, Connor and Edgar could spend the day at my apartment.”

Connor nearly chokes on his egg foo yung at that. 

Weirdly, he’d kind of… forgotten that his dad clearly has a place where he lives. 

He’s never been there. It’s been ten years and he has never once set foot in his dad’s apartment. 

Fuck, that’s weird. 

His mom frowns. Looks at Connor. “Would that be okay with you?” she asks, sounding unsure. “I can still tell the home and garden society to fuck off.”

“As much as I would love to see you tell the home and garden society to fuck off,” Connor says, “I wouldn’t say no to a change of scenery.” His mom looks at him and he rushes to continue. “Not that there’s anything wrong with here, Mom, I’ve just… you know, spent a lot of time in once place these past few months.”

“That’s true,” she concedes. She sighs. “If I let them have this one and host their damn luncheon, I can probably milk it for another year.” She shrugs. “I’ll sleep on it. I don’t like giving in so easily.”

“I know you don’t,” says Connor’s dad, his tone fond. He looks at his mom with this soft expression, an expression Connor remembers seeing long, long ago. “I’m happy to help however I can.”

His mom smiles at his dad and for a moment, Connor feels like a fucking third wheel. 

Honestly, he has no idea what’s going on with his parents at the moment, and he’s probably better off not knowing. 


	71. SEVENTY

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> “I don’t know if you’ve heard, but I’m kind of a big deal.”

Sitting across from Richard in his office suddenly Evan’s confidence that he could do this plummeted. Suddenly, Evan was twenty-four and overly eager, suddenly he had no idea what to do or to say because his mind was somewhere in the Hamptons in a pantry with his boss’s hands trying to get into his pants, suddenly Richard seemed more like a threat again.

He smiled at Evan, his teeth professionally whitened and somehow menacing in the sunlight. “So, welcome aboard.”

“Thank you,” Evan said, trying to keep the tone professional. 

But Richard was clearly watching him, like a cat might watch a mouse right before it pounced. Interest but also absolute certainty. Evan could practically imagine Richard picking pieces of him out of his perfect, white teeth. 

“I’m sure HR went over all of the details…” He said, sounding bored. 

Evan nodded. “Yes.”

“And you understand the hiring bonus?”

Evan nodded again. 

Ten grand up front. The other fifteen after his first year. 

“Great,” Richard said with a big smile. Feral. The sort of smile that might have sent Evan into genuine respiratory distress when he was a law student. “Well then. Better get to work.” 

Evan nodded. Felt Richard’s eyes on him the whole time he was walking from Richard’s office to his own. His new office. It had an awesome view. 

...It also sort of made Evan want to throw a chair through the window and follow it to the ground. 

Whatever. 

He dove into his first assignment and hardly even looked up from his computer until it was already five thirty and a young, timid looking woman was standing in his doorway. “Uh, excuse me? Mr. Hansen?”

Evan tried to smile at her. “Evan. Please.”

She smiled back awkwardly. “I uh. I just… I wanted to introduce myself before I left for the evening.”

Evan nodded, waiting for her to do that. 

She was looking at him sort of dreamily, and then blinked furiously, her cheeks going dark. “Chelsea Miles. I’m… I’m an L2 at NYU and I’ve heard so much about you Mr. Hansen, I mean, you’re kind of a legend, Professor Wyman still talks about you, she has the article about you in the Times up in her office, shesaidshealwaysknewyouhadgreatpotential -”

“Chelsea, take a breath,” Evan said gently. 

She looked embarrassed. “Oh my god, I am… I’m acting like an idiot. I’m like. Fangirling.”

“You’re fine,” Evan said with an awkward smile. “It’s nice to meet you.” He stood up to shake her hand and she held on for just a moment too long. 

“Just. Your oral argument against Larry Murphy in the Kendra McCool case is… I’ve read the transcript before every exam to pump me up.”

Evan didn’t understand that one at all, but he smiled and said that was “nice of her to do.” 

“Thank you sir. I mean, Mr. Hansen. I mean -”

“Evan. Please.”

“Mr. Hansen was your father, right?” Chelsea joked weakly, smiling. 

“Uh. No actually. I have my mother’s last name,” Evan said with a shrug. 

“Oh god, I knew that… I actually knew that damn it.”

“Chelsea?” Evan said gently. 

“Yes sir?”

“It’s a little weird that you know that,” He said smiling. “You can relax. You’re doing great, okay?”

“Thank you sir.”

* * *

His dad’s apartment is small. 

Really small. 

Connor’s dad gives him a tour which takes all of about a minute and a half. It’s tastefully decorated, like someone’s come in and done it, but it doesn’t really have a lot of personality. The living room is the only room that has any hint of an actual human being living there. 

There’s a large television, a sofa that’s ridiculously comfortable and a couple of bookshelves, mostly containing the books that Connor remembers being in his dad’s home office when he was a kid. Law textbooks and the like. 

On the wall, there’s one of those frames that has a bunch of smaller photos in it. 

Connor can see a picture of him and his dad at his high school graduation is one of them. 

That’s…

He didn’t expect that. 

Connor’s tired by the time they arrive so ends up sitting on the sofa, Edgar curled up in his lap. His dad busies himself setting up food and a travel litter box for Edgar to avoid any accidents, then joins Connor on the couch and hands him a packet of Oreos. 

Connor’s not expecting that, either. 

“Want to watch something?” Larry asks, sounding like he’s as weirded out by all of this as Connor. 

“Sure,” Connor says with a nod. 

They end up watching the first Lord of the Rings movie. 

His dad took him to see this one when it came out, he remembers. 

Edgar purrs contentedly on his lap for a while, then picks himself up and wanders over to Connor’s dad, rubbing at his hand as if to request to be petted. 

Connor watches as Larry scratches Edgar behind his ears and smiles a little as Edgar closes his eyes and purrs in bliss. 

“Edgar’s doing okay being away from the bookstore?” his dad asks quietly.

“Yeah,” Connor says with a nod. “He’s a little clingy, but I guess I can’t blame him.”

His dad gives him this sad smile. “Understandable.” He sighs. “It’s not like we can sit the cat down and explain what happened.”

“No,” Connor concedes. “I guess not.”

His dad sighs again. Keeps petting Edgar. 

“I’ve been meaning to talk to you about something,” he says after a while. 

“Oh,” says Connor, feeling his stomach twist uncomfortably. “Is… is everything okay?”

His dad looks at him for a long moment. 

Hits pause on the movie. 

“You know I’m friends with Jonathan Schneider,” Larry says carefully. “From Schneider & Weiss.”

“Yes,” Connor says, his stomach twisting even more. “Where Evan works.”

“Jonathan tells me he resigned,” says Connor’s dad, his voice still careful. “He’s accepted an offer at McLaren, Hunt & Simon.”

Connor feels like someone’s punched him in the chest. “He did?”

Larry sighs. “McLaren offered him Junior Partner. Career-wise, it’s an excellent move. There aren’t many young lawyers who move up the ranks so quickly.” He pauses for a moment, as if considering what to say next. “However, McLaren has… a reputation.”

“I know,” Connor says, his voice coming out darker than he means it to. “Trust me, I know that guy’s an asshole.”

Larry’s eyes flash with alarm. “Evan interned for him,” he says, still in that careful tone. “When he was in law school. Has he mentioned Richard McLaren?”

“Yeah,” Connor says, his heart slowly plummeting into his shoes, feeling like he might cry, or punch something. “He did, he said that…” Connor shakes his head. “I don’t understand why he’d work with him again, after everything we…”

Something else crosses his dad’s face. He seems to pick up on something Connor’s not saying. “Connor,” he says, his voice so fucking careful. “Have  _ you _ met Richard McLaren?”

Connor wants to lie. 

But he’s too fucking tired. 

“He used to come to the bookstore,” he admits, not daring to look his dad in the face. “He… before I turned 27, we saw each other for a while. For months, I didn’t know he was married, then I found out and I tried to call it off and…” Connor can’t look his dad in the eye, he just can’t. “He kind of… lawyered me into sticking around? He’s… he can be pretty fucking persuasive.”

“He’s a lawyer,” Connor’s dad says simply. “That’s basically what being a lawyer is - being persuasive.” He sighs. Connor finally braves a look at his dad, who’s rubbing his face. He looks tired and old. “I can’t say I’m surprised,” he says after a moment. “McLaren is… predictable.”

He doesn’t say any more than that. 

Connor feels like he needs a shower. Or to bleach his brain. 

Fuck. 

He was such a fucking idiot to ever think that Richard McLaren was anything more than garbage in an expensive suit. 

And Evan’s working for him. 

He’s working for him, after what Richard did to him when he was an intern. 

After Richard…

Fuck. 

Fuck. 

Connor hates this, he hates this so much, he…

He wants to fly back to New York and go to Evan’s apartment and try to knock some fucking sense into him, to scream and shout and tell him he’s making a mistake, that he’s hurting himself, that this is bad this is bad this is bad, this is wrong, this is not how it’s supposed to be. 

He…

Evan’s not okay. 

If he’s doing this, then he’s not okay. 

And Connor…

Can’t do anything about it. 

He can’t. 

Because Evan has removed himself from Connor’s life. Completely. 

Cut himself out. 

Connor misses him so much. 

So fucking much. 

“After I stopped seeing Richard,” Connor says, suddenly feeling the need to point this out, to try to make his dad stop seeing him as nothing more than one of Richard McLaren’s many conquests, “I made a copy of all our correspondence and sent it to his husband. So he could use it as proof of infidelity in the divorce proceedings.”

His dad just looks at him for a long moment. 

When he finally speaks, he sounds almost… proud. 

“That was you?”

Connor nods. Shrugs. “I… I gave him everything I had. Phone logs, texts, emails…” He sighs. “Richard kind of… kept saying he’d leave James for me, and I really didn’t fucking want that, at all, and then when James kicked him out, he came by the bookstore again and tried to convince me to give him another chance.” He sighs again. “I know it was stupid of me to have an affair with a married guy, I know it was, and looking back I’m… disgusted with myself. But he kept talking about how James wanted full custody and I knew that James wasn’t a lawyer so… I wanted to help.”

His dad lets out this soft laugh. “You did,” he says with a nod. “Everyone was talking about McLaren’s divorce. He was so sure he’d covered his tracks, so sure there was no way James could prove infidelity.” He frowns. “McLaren’s ruthless. Once he realized his marriage was over, he spent a lot of time and effort making things a living hell for James. Accusing him of being an unfit parent. It was… quite public and very messy. Poor James seemed to have no idea what hit him. It was as though he’d had no idea how ruthless McLaren could really be.” He looks sad. “I felt sorry for the man.”

“Fuck,” Connor says quietly. “Fuck, that’s…” He shakes his head. “That’s bullshit, bullshit that  _ James _ is the unfit parent. He was constantly cancelling plans to see his kid to hang out with me, all the fucking time, that’s…”

“I remember finding out that James had proof of infidelity,” says Connor’s dad, sounding almost smug. “Real, concrete proof. The bastard did not see that coming. He changed course pretty quickly.” Connor’s dad nods. “Last I heard it’s all still tied up in legal proceedings, but James stands to get full custody of their son and a sizeable settlement.”

“Good,” Connor says firmly. “It’s what he deserves.”

Connor’s dad looks at him, something in his expression softening a little. “What you did for James,” he says, still in that careful voice. “Not a lot of people would do that. Especially not against someone like Richard McLaren.”

Connor tries to smile. “Yeah, well, I’m not a lawyer,” he points out.

“He could have come for you and your business,” Larry replies. “He could have retaliated. There was risk involved for you.”

Connor does smile at that. “What would he have done? Tried to find some kind of hole in the paperwork for the store?” He shakes his head. “Not going to happen. Evan’s way too thorough for that.”

His throat almost closes up after saying his ex-boyfriend’s name. Like he doesn’t deserve to. 

Fuck. 

“You’re not wrong,” says Connor’s dad with a sad smile. “I’ve seen the contracts for the bookstore, they’re watertight.” He looks at Connor, genuine concern in his eyes. “I assume that Evan’s no longer your lawyer for anything you need for the bookstore.”

“He’s not,” Connor says quietly. “He… he left me someone’s card? Someone I could call, I just… haven’t done it yet.”

Connor’s dad shakes his head. “If there’s anything you need, you call  _ me _ ,” he says firmly. “Not a stranger. Me.” His mouth twitches into this smirk that Connor’s never seen before - cocky, but a little self-effacing. “I don’t know if you’ve heard, but I’m kind of a big deal.”


	72. SEVENTY-ONE

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> “Has anything weird ever happened to you?”

The note on the door read, “ _ Charlie’s visiting this weekend. Dinner? We miss you! Alex (and Mattie.) _ ”

He didn’t especially love the slightly passive-aggressive tone, but Evan put it out of his mind. He went to work. Went to court. Won his case. 

Went back home. 

By the time Friday rolled around, Evan had long forgotten the note on the door. He got home around nine-thirty - he had to call it quits early on Friday nights because the cleaners came in earlier, which never failed to annoy him, but he wasn’t enough of an asshole to get in the way of them doing their jobs so he packed when they arrived. 

He’d stopped at the liquor store on his way home. Not the one where Andre worked. Evan avoided that one now. Andre was Connor’s friend, and Evan had ruined enough things for Connor without taking away his liquor store. 

The other store added four blocks to his trip. 

The air was starting to get colder properly. The cold was seeping into Evan’s bones. He shivered, annoyed at the cold. 

He was going to have to get his winter coat out soon. It was freezing. 

...Nothing compared to climbing into a bathtub of ice of course. 

_ Stop it.  _

When Evan reached the outside of his building, he was surprised to discover Alex and Mattie’s old roommate Charlie standing out on the sidewalk, scowling. Evan had forgotten just how imposing a figure he cut. He was tall, muscular, the sort of guy who looked like he had played football at one point. 

“Uh. Hi,” Evan said. “Alex and Mattie meeting you down here?”

Charlie shook his head. “Big trauma in the emergency room and Mattie’s elbow deep in someone’s cervix. They’re both stuck for at least a few more hours.” He rolled his eyes. “Doctors, right?”

Evan wrinkled his nose at Charlie, confused. “Aren’t you a doctor?”

“I work in a research lab in Iowa now,” He said, his voice dull and flat. “And I don’t have keys to this place anymore.”

Charlie’s keys now resided in Evan’s pocket. He pulled them up and let them both inside. 

“Thanks, man,” Charlie said. 

“Sure.”

They made their way up the stairs in uncomfortable silence. They’d only met one time before, on New Year’s Eve, and Charlie hadn’t stuck around for very long once the party ended. Something about family he wanted to see in Philadelphia before he went back to Iowa. 

“So what brings you to town?” Evan asked to fill the uncomfortably mounting silence. 

Charlie smiled. It was like a robotic, automatic action. The smile didn’t reach his eyes and he showed an obviously calculated amount of teeth. 

Evan knew immediately because he did that too. Practice smiles. 

“Just a visit,” Charlie said. Evan must have looked dubious because Charlie then added, “Another friend from med school invited me to a lecture on Sunday, but he and his husband just had a baby.”

“Ah.”

Charlie’s artificial smile wilted. “He’s… He’s actually my ex? The one with the baby, I 

mean.” 

“Oh,” Evan said. He didn’t know what to do with that information, how Charlie wanted him to react. “Is that…?”

“I don’t think he expected me to actually come,” Charlie went on. “But here I am.”

“Here you are,” Evan said dully, picking briefly at his cuticles. He cleared his throat. Checked his watch. “Well I should -”

“Would you want to get a drink? Mattie and Alex will be a while,” Charlie asked suddenly, his voice more forceful than Evan expected. 

“Oh, I…” He sort of gestured vaguely to the bottle of whisky he had picked up on his way home. “Did you want…?”

“Not here,” Charlie said, his eyes nervously glancing around. “We could go somewhere else. Have you ever been to Tipsy McStaggers -?”

“NO!” Evan said. 

“No you haven’t…?”

“No, I mean. I have. I just. Don’t go there. Anymore. Sorry.”

Charlie nodded. “There’s a shitty dive right around the corner from the bad bodega?”

Evan almost smiled. Within two blocks of this apartment building there were two rival bodegas, and one of them was far inferior in Evan’s opinion. Connor had always thought that opinion was a little ridiculous, because it was based on small things like candy selection and whether or not the place had a cat (which Evan thought was vital to the bodega experience). He used to tease Evan about it. Insist they go to the bad bodega. Evan used to joke that he was one step away from trying to ask the bodega guy to scramble an egg for him for maximum Evan-annoying potential. 

_ Stop it.  _

He could not be thinking about Connor. 

“Sure,” Evan said to Charlie. “Let’s get a drink.”

Charlie stored his things in Mattie’s bedroom, then they headed out into the night again. It was cold. Too cold for this time of year - these were winter temperatures, but it was still only autumn. Evan’s teeth chattered and he frowned, thinking about global warming and climate change and whether or not Larry Murphy had actually had the heating system in the apartment above The Little Book Nook updated. 

...Evan had tried to suggest the costs for such an update be subtracted from the purchase of the building back when he bought it, but Connor wouldn’t hear of it. Wasn’t willing to negotiate down on Martha and Gladys. “If two little old ladies could tough out a little cold, so can I,” he’d insisted. 

Evan and Charlie stepped inside of the bar and Evan was happy to see it was somewhat crowded. He used to have the opposite feeling - crowds typically made Evan nervous. But he found, over the last couple of months, that it was better to be able to blend into the background in places where you planned to get shitfaced, so it was better if there was a crowd to provide camouflage. 

Evan asked Charlie what he was drinking and he said, “Whatever you’re having. I don’t care.”

He ordered them each a whiskey and they retreated to a small booth not far from the pool table. Charlie stared down at his drink and Evan thought, irritated, that he might have saved himself a trip and just bought two to start. 

Charlie took a deep breath and then downed his drink in one go. Looked at Evan. “We should have just gotten two to start.”

Evan almost smiled at that, tipping his own drink back. 

Charlie bought the next round. Two doubles apiece. 

Evan got the next. 

They traded off, not talking much, just drinking, until after his fifth drink Charlie looked at Evan and said, “Has anything weird ever happened to you?”

Evan shrugged, like he didn’t know what this guy could possibly be talking about but inside he was panicked, he was screaming, his heart was about to beat right out of his chest. “Define weird,” He said quietly. 

Charlie took another drink. “You ever died?”

Evan was not going to get through this conversation without a lot more alcohol. He stood up. Walked to the bar. Bought an entire bottle of whisky at a ridiculous mark up. 

Charlie looked surprised that he’d come back. 

Evan set the bottle on the table with a weighty thunk. “We’re going to need this,” He said by way of explanation. He poured them each a drink. “How’d you know?”

Charlie nodded. “The mirror?” He looked into his glass. “I fucked up and said something about it at New Year’s and I could tell by the look you gave your boyfriend that you… That you knew.”

“Ex-boyfriend,” Evan interjected softly. At Charlie’s questioning face, Evan elaborated, “He’s my ex now. We broke up.”

“Was he… I mean did he…?”

Evan nodded. 

“Shit.” Charlie took a drink. 

“How’d it start for you?”

Charlie smiled that same mechanical smile. “So you know I was in my surgical residency, right?”  
Evan nodded. 

“I was assisting on a heart valve replacement,” Charlie said. “After having already worked a thirty-hour shift. I was exhausted and… The patient coded while we had his chest cracked, and my attending took the internal paddles - you’ve probably seen them on TV?” Charlie said. Evan nodded. “He took the paddles to shock the guy, and I was… sloppy. Didn’t get out of the way fast enough. He shocked me and my heart stopped and I died.” He swallowed more whisky. “And then I was in the bathroom again.”

Evan’s throat felt dry. “The bathroom at the apartment?”

Charlie shook his head. “In the residence lounge at the hospital. Why? Did you reset in the bathroom at the apartment?”

Evan nodded. 

He couldn’t believe he was talking about this, actually talking about this, with a virtual stranger. It had been jarring to discuss it with Connor the first time too, but they’d had history -they’d grown up together, sort of. Plus they had actually died together by the time they finally unpacked all of it. Twice. 

“Fuck,” Charlie said. “How’d you die? The first time?”

Evan swallowed more whisky. 

He could lie. 

But what would even be the point in that?

“I killed myself.”

Charlie choked on his drink. “On your  _ first  _ loop?”

Evan lifted his eyebrows, daring him to object. 

“I mean. I’ve read some reddit threads about this… I mean. Everyone kills themself like at least once, it seems. Groundhog Day theory, you know? But. I’ve never heard of anyone who killed themselves on their first loop. Jesus.”

“There are reddit threads?” Evan asked, surprised. 

Charlie nodded. “Yeah that’s… Yeah. That’s. The lecture I’m here to see? It’s this wingnut physicist who like… published a book about his loops. Dr. Joshua Weekes? Dude is crazy. Like. You don’t fucking publish a book about your loops.” 

“Did you read it?”

Charlie laughed, “Of course I read it. The guy is an awful writer, I do not know how it got through editing. He got bit in the dick by a snake and died during one of his loops.”

Evan wrinkled his nose. “Oh god.”

“Yeah.” Charlie’s face got more serious. “When I got out, I fucked up and told my ex. About the loops. He… He’s one of those alternative medicines, hippie type of doctors? He believed me. That’s why he invited me to the lecture. He never thought I was crazy until…”

Evan suddenly remembered what Alex had told him about why Charlie left his surgical residency. 

“I stopped sleeping,” Charlie said. “Because I was terrified if I fell asleep, I’d start looping again. I died fifteen times… and I went nine days without sleep. Started to hallucinate in the middle of an appendectomy.”

Evan’s stomach turned. 

Charlie drank more. He looked exhausted. “I… The patient died because I fucked up. I managed to slice into his bowel because I was straight up seeing things. He became septic and died the next morning.”

“Fuck.”

“Yeah,” Charlie said. “So I do fucking research now.”

They kept drinking, trading death stories back and forth. Charlie cracked up about the elevator and the Alana bus, but he completely lost it when Evan mentioned the flower pot falling out of the sky. Charlie had poisoned himself by accident once, been struck by lightning, fell into the Hudson, fell off his bike on his way to work and hit his head only to die several hours later of an undetected brain bleed…

They laughed a lot talking about it, even though it wasn’t funny, even though neither of them were smiling. 

After a few hours, Evan needed a cigarette and Charlie said he’d come outside with Evan so that’s what happened. Charlie checked his phone - Mattie had gotten pulled into an emergency C-section, Alex was stuck with a teenager vomiting blood - and said he didn’t expect they’d be seeing either of them that night. 

Which was fine by Evan because he felt the best he’d felt in months. 

It was nice to be around someone you didn’t have to explain yourself to. 

He smoked his cigarette, enjoying the cold air on his face, and Charlie chugged the last of the whisky he’d sneaked out of the bar in his jacket’s inside pocket when they both heard it. 

Music. 

Melancholy yet hopeful, the sort of song you immediately recognize even though you’ve never heard it before. 

Evan spotted Otis under a streetlamp across the street, playing his guitar. Charlie’s eyes zeroed in on him, and then narrowed suddenly. “I fucking know that guy,” He said. 

“Yeah?”

“Yeah,” Charlie muttered. Then he dropped the whisky bottle to the sidewalk, it clunked awkwardly but didn’t break, and crossed the street fast. Evan followed him not sure what was happening until Charlie ripped the guitar from Otis’s hands and got into his face, shouting, screaming, “You fucking asshole, you fucking  _ asshole,  _ you absolute cunt -”

“Hey man back off,” Evan started, trying to pull Charlie away from him. “Sorry,” Evan said to Otis. “Sorry, he’s drunk, sorry -”

Otis looked between them both with a wide and somewhat horrified expression. “You should absolutely not… No, no, that’s wrong, you two shouldn’t.” He shook his head, and then suddenly was pounding his fist against his skull. “This is wrong wrong wrong wrong, no no no no no.”

“Jesus Christ man, get it together,” Charlie spat at Otis. 

“What the fuck?” Evan said to him, rounding on Charlie. “Leave him alone.”

“That motherfucker is the reason - he’s the reason she’s dead!”


	73. SEVENTY-TWO

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> “Everything is wrong. It’s not supposed to be like this.”

“Who?” Evan asked, bewildered. “Who’s dead?”

Otis was rocking back and forth now, pounding his fists harder against his head, repeating, “Wrong wrong wrong  _ wrong _ .”

“I’ll fucking kill you!” Charlie shouted and then he was on top of Otis, trying to punch him, and Evan grabbed Charlie forcefully by the back of his collar and hauled him off of Otis. 

“What the fuck?” He said, shoving Charlie away. 

“She didn’t come back because of this fucking asshole!” Charlie cried, lunging again. 

Evan had only thrown one punch before in his life. 

He threw his second to stop Charlie from attacking Otis. Charlie went down hard, blood streaming from his nose. 

Evan turned to Otis. “Are you alright?”

He looked at Evan and shook his head. “Everything is wrong. It’s not supposed to be like this.”

Evan sighed. “You go off your meds again?”

Otis frowned. “ _ You _ weren’t supposed to leave.”

Evan scowled at him. Went into his pocket and took out his wallet. “Here,” he said, shoving a few twenties into Otis’s hands. “Just… I need to get him out of here. I’m sorry we bothered you. I’m… I’m really sorry.”

“You shouldn’t be around that one,” Otis said, his voice shaky. “You really, really shouldn’t. It’s dangerous. Stupid. Don’t...”

“Yeah, I got it,” Evan muttered. 

Evan leaned over Charlie and helped him to his feet. They started walking back toward Evan’s apartment, Charlie holding an old fast food napkin to his nose.

“Who died?” Evan asked him roughly. 

“Esther,” He said. He wiped away some more blood. “We looped together for a while.”

“Oh.”

“She was only nineteen,” Charlie said softly. “She saw that-that guy. In our last loop together, he was freaking out about fuck knows what - she tried to help. She tried to help and he… took a swing at her on a subway platform, said some shit about how she wasn’t supposed to exist, and she stepped back too far, over the yellow line and got hit by the train.” Charlie cleared his throat. “She didn’t come back. She went through hell, her whole life, and then died sixteen times and… and stayed dead. I waited for her. I waited and… she stayed dead. ”

“I’m sorry.”

Charlie shook his head. “I don’t know what the fuck that guy is but… She never even talked to men. She… her dad was, just,  _ such  _ an asshole it took forever for her to trust me and then she gets brave  _ one  _ fucking time and… I don’t even know who the fuck that guy is.”

Evan frowned. “Just… some guy who went off his meds, man. He’s probably schizophrenic or something. You were way out of line, he didn’t -”

Evan didn’t finish what he was saying because Charlie punched him in the ear. 

Evan stumbled but kept his balance, shouting, “What the hell?” Charlie grabbed him by the lapels and shoved him against the brick of the building forcefully. “Get your fucking hands off of me,” Evan spat, and Charlie slammed him back against the wall so forcefully his head made painful contact with the brick and the air rushed out of his lungs.

“Fuck you,” Charlie seethed. “You lived through yours with your person intact. You lived, you both lived, and-and you don’t get to say shit about me -”

“Fuck you!” Evan said, trying to push him away again. “It’s not my fucking fault that happened to you. I didn’t do that!”

Charlie shoved him again. 

Evan worried he might end up seriously hurt, just for a second. 

Then Charlie’s mouth was on his, aggressive, biting at Evan’s lips, grabbing him painfully. 

Things blurred together after that. 

The stumbling trip up the stairs, the shaky hands putting a key in a lock. 

The lights on, too bright, Charlie’s hands unbuckling his belt, grabbing, reaching, just as they got inside the apartment. 

The mumbled, “Let’s go to my room,” and subsequent pause when Charlie realized he didn’t  _ have  _ a room anymore. “Your room.”

Fingers gripping short hair painfully, a crash of mouths, the animal bodily response of someone pressed against him. 

It wasn’t about numbing the pain so much as causing it. 

Teeth and lips and fingernails raking across skin. Violence... groping and shoving, Evan forcing Charlie against a wall, holding his wrists above him painfully, Charlie whimpering. They made it to Evan’s room, bruising kisses and touches, clothes viciously discarded. Charlie bit Evan’s shoulder painfully, breaking skin, and punching him again when Evan cried out.

Evan smacked him across the face hard in return.

And Charlie shoved Evan down on the mattress and kissed him harder. 

“What the fuck is wrong with your arm?” Charlie ground out, grabbing at Evan’s wrist. 

“Nothing,” Evan said roughly, trying to twist his wrist away but Charlie caught it, found the newest, most tender mark and pushed on it. Hard. 

Evan’s eyes closed in pain. His mind flashed to a bruise he had left on Connor’s hip, pressing it gently, Connor melting into a kiss…

His mind flashed to the summer, Connor fresh from the shower, spying a burn and pressing a soft kiss to it. 

“You do that to yourself?”

“Shut up.”

He could push Charlie off of him. Evan was not helpless here. He could hit him again. He could hurt him if he wanted. Evan knew what he was capable of. He could hurt him back if he wanted. 

But he didn’t want that. 

It was a messy and very fucked up affair, Charlie holding him down for a moment by the throat, blocking Evan’s airway, holding him down hard, the horrible moment when Evan agreed to this, asked for it, said please.

Not bothering with a condom, and Evan not even caring, not even caring that it hurt, it hurt a lot, the whole thing hard and fast and unsafe and angry and bitter and awful, a crash of bodies together, his hands pinned helplessly above his head, the horror of not really recognizing this other body against his, the terror that came with the unfamiliar, the thrill of the recklessness of it all. 

It was awful. 

Utterly and completely awful. 

When they were finished, bruised and sore, sweating and panting, Evan rushed to the bathroom in just his boxers and was immediately sick. He threw up for a long time, a concerningly long time, and he knew he was crying he was crying and crying and crying because this was  _ wrong _ . 

Wrong. 

He didn’t want this. 

Wrong wrong wrongwrongwrongwrong,

He wanted Connor he only wanted Connor he wanted the love of his life back he wanted his life back he wanted Connor he only ever wanted Connor but he’d fucked up everything, everything, everything. 

_ Stop it.  _

He caught a glimpse of himself as he shakily left the bathroom, intending to go sleep it off on the couch. 

His neck was decorated with a circle of bruises just under his Adam’s Apple. There was a bite mark on his shoulder, red and shocking against his pale skin. The shadow of a bruise forming on his jawline. His eye, swollen, a rapidly purpling bruise appearing where he usually kept his dark circles His bottom lip was bleeding and puffy. His right hand throbbed, sore, his knuckles busted. 

Eyes red. Bloodshot. 

That was what he deserved, Evan thought as he swallowed painfully. He deserved to be hurt. He was the sort of person who only hurt others, it was about time someone hurt him back. 

He washed his face. 

Stared at his phone for a while, wondering what would happen if he just… Called Connor. If he called and apologized and said he’d been so fucking stupid, so fucking stupid and beg for Connor to take him back. 

And then Evan realized he knew what would happen. He knew exactly what would happen, he’d known since his mother had told him Alex and Mattie found Connor passed out in front of their door in September. 

Connor would take him back. And Evan would destroy him. 

He put his phone down. 

And went to sleep. 

Charlie was gone in the morning.

* * *

Connor wakes up screaming. 

Screaming at the top of his lungs. 

Something is wrong something is wrong something is wrong. 

Edgar is meowing frantically. He scampers out the door, then barely minutes later Connor’s mom is at his side, trying desperately to calm him down. 

He can’t breathe he can’t breathe everything hurts this is wrong this is wrong there is something wrong wrong wrong wrong wrong

“Connor,” his mom says, her voice frantic. “Connor, honey, what’s wrong? What’s happening, are you hurt? Please tell me what’s wrong, sweetheart, please just tell me.”

“I don’t know I don’t know something’s wrong something’s wrong-”

“It’s okay, love. You’re okay. You’re safe, honey.”

Connor’s mom holds him tight as he shakes and cries and tries to breath, tries to get his breathing under control, because his brain knows he’s back home, he’s at his mom’s, in the guest room that’s his, but his heart is screaming  _ ‘danger danger danger’ _ and he has no idea  _ why.  _

It takes a while, but Connor finally calms down. 

His heart is still screaming. 

His mom looks tired and scared, so scared. “Shall we have hot chocolate?” she asks, and Connor nods. Lets her help him out of bed. They head downstairs and his mom sits him down at the kitchen island. Edgar climbs up his leg, then jumps up to settle on his shoulder, giving him little kitten kisses on his cheek. 

“Edgar’s a very good cat,” says Connor’s mom while she makes hot chocolate. “He came to get me. Just meowed in my ear until I woke up.”

“I’m sorry-”

“I’m glad he did,” Connor’s mom says firmly. “I’m glad you have him. He’s a good cat.”

“He is,” Connor agrees, scratching Edgar behind his ears as he purrs contentedly. “He… I don’t know how I would have gotten through this without him.” He looks at his mom. “And you and Zoe and Dad. I… I’m so sorry I scared you, that I just keep scaring you.”

His mom looks devastated. “Honey,” she says, her voice careful. “You’re supposed to be going back to New York next week. Are you… are you sure you’re ready?”

Connor sighs. “Honestly? I don’t know. I don’t think I’ll ever be ready. But… I gotta get back into the swing of things by Thanksgiving, and I want to take it slow, so… I think it needs to be now.”

His mom puts a mug of hot chocolate in front of him, then pulls him into a tight hug. “Part of me wants to keep you here forever,” she says, sniffing a little. “So I can see with my own two eyes that you’re safe. But you’re nearly thirty, you have a life and a business and… Zoe’s in New York, and there are other people in the city who love you. Who’ll help you when you need it.” She pulls away and smiles this watery smile. “Leslie at the bookstore has texted me almost every day you’ve been here. Did I tell you that?”

“You didn’t,” Connor says with a shake of his head. He smiles. “She texts me every day, too. Just to check in.” He looks at his mom. “I know she’s got everything under control. She cares about the store. She and Maureen and Jax, they all do. I’m… I’m really lucky to have such good employees.”

“They love you,” says Connor’s mom simply. “And I love you. There are so many people who love you, Connor. I want you to remember that.” 

They both take a sip of their hot chocolates and sit in silence for a while. 

“Was it a nightmare?” Connor’s mom asks after a long moment, her voice cautious. “Is that why you were so upset?”

Connor shrugs. “If it was, I don’t remember it,” he confesses. “I just… I don’t know. I’m sorry.”

Something feels wrong still, but he doesn’t know how to explain that. 

Something’s felt wrong for a long time, but this is…

More. Extra. 

He hurts all over. Aches. Feels like he’s going to be sick. 

The hot chocolate helps, and so does his mom’s soothing presence and Edgar purring on his shoulder. 

But it doesn’t take that wrong feeling away. 


	74. SEVENTY-THREE

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> “Of course you are. Of course you’re fine.”

Evan’s entire body ached. He wasn’t sure what was in worse shape, his mind or his body. 

For once, probably his body. He hadn’t been this banged up since he’d broken his arm. Evan knew it was bad. 

If he hadn’t known already, Richard gave him hell on Monday morning about it. 

“Jesus Christ, you have to be in court this afternoon!” He’d cried. “We cannot have our newest junior partner showing up with a fucking shiner. What the fuck did you do, get punched by a cop at a protest you bleeding heart moron?”

Evan thought back idly to the days when Richard used to get his name wrong. He missed that. That was better. 

Richard had grabbed a timid looking L2 named Chelsea who was doing her internship under him this semester and barked at her to help Evan “cover up this fucking mess.”

Evan felt bad for her. She clearly idolized all of them, even though all of them were assholes. “You can ignore him. I’m fine.”

She shook her head. “I have concealer in my bag,” She mumbled, her voice quiet. “And I really don’t want to get fired. Let’s go in the staff room, okay?”

She had shaky hands as she tried to help him put concealer over his black eye. Evan thought it probably would have hurt less if he’d been allowed to do it himself, but he didn’t complain because she was twenty-three and she looked exhausted and none of this was her fault. 

So he knew he looked fucking bad. 

One of his ribs was broken, according to Alex. 

Charlie had given her and Mattie some excuse for why he couldn’t hang out the Saturday after he’d arrived. He just told them he and Evan had grabbed a drink and that he was heading out to visit other friends. 

Evan had lied and told her he had fallen down some stairs to explain how he’d ended up so banged up. He waited until the bruises around his neck had faded before he asked Alex to check out his bruised side. Seeing as he was drunk a lot lately, she hadn’t even pressed him for more information. He had a broken fucking rib. 

She wrote him a prescription for some painkillers after she got home at two o’clock in the morning two nights in a row and found him sitting stone-faced and sober on the sofa because he was in too much pain to sleep. 

“Do not drink with these,” She said. “I’m fucking serious Evan.”

He was never drinking again so it wouldn’t be an issue. 

She only wrote the script for ten pills and honestly, that was fine. 

It was fine. 

Evan got trapped late at the office, stuck there on a conference call with one of the associates in their office in San Diego, so he didn’t manage to make it to the pharmacy until it was after eleven o’clock at night. 

He hated coming here. 

It was about halfway between Evan and Connor’s places. 

He hated coming here. He kept forgetting to change his pharmacy. 

He hadn’t been in a while, as the tech behind the counter told him. “You’re about two weeks late on your last refill… Want to get that one too?”

Evan sighed. 

Handed over his new insurance card. 

“It’ll be just a few minutes.”

He nodded, shifting his jaw and heading to go stare at the magazine rack. There wasn’t anything better to do and if he checked his phone he’d just go and reread old texts from Connor and make himself sadder. 

Fuck he was in a lot of pain. 

“Did you want the Ben and Jerry’s?” A familiar voice said not far from where Evan was standing. “Or do you want the Haagen Dazs?”

Evan’s blood ran cold. 

He knew that voice. 

Zoe. 

Fuck. 

He needed to… fucking hide, disappear, he needed to fucking go. 

“You know I’m partial to Cherry Garcia,” Another voice said. 

Evan thought he might puke. 

Mariah. Zoe was there… with Mariah. 

He turned around, hoping maybe they wouldn’t recognize him from behind if he was staring into a national geographic and he might have avoided it but then the pharmacist called his name over the PA system. 

And Zoe turned. 

Her smile faded, turning her mouth into a hard straight line. 

Last time he had seen her, she had screamed at him. Told him not to ever come anywhere near her family again. Called him a monster. 

He couldn’t even blame her. 

Mariah turned then too, her own smile fading, and she whispered, “Jesus fuck.” 

Evan wished for a sudden accident to befall him. A rogue flower pot, a sinkhole to open up, anything. 

No luck. 

“Evan oh my god,” Mariah said, sounding concerned. She walked over to him and hugged him firmly and it took everything in him, everything not to cry out. She must have felt him tense because Mariah backed off fast. “I haven’t seen you in like a month… Are you okay? We’ve all been worried… What happened to your face?”

“I’m fine.”

“You have a black eye!”

“Really, I’m fine.”

“Of course you are,” Zoe said caustically. “Of course you’re fine.”

“Zo,” Mariah said, shooting her a look. “Come on. You can afford to lay off a little.”

Evan breathed in through his nose. Let the breath out through his mouth. “I’m sorry I… I’m sorry I bothered you, I’m sorry, I’ll go I’ll just -”

Mariah cut him off. “What the hell happened to you?”

Evan shook his head. “I’m fine. Nothing happened, really. An accident. I’m okay.” He tried to smile at them, and it was horrible, mechanical and force, awkward as fuck, and Evan mumbled “Nice to see you,” and rushed off as fast as his injuries would allow.

* * *

Going back to his apartment above the bookstore is weird, a little, but it’s nice to be getting something back to normal. Even if Connor’s still not sure what normal is for him. 

So much of his life was tied up in Evan. So much of it. 

The whole time he was in that other universe, he felt Evan’s absence like an ache in his chest, and with it, the loss of everything he’d gained because of his connection with Evan.

Connor knows that he owes so much of who he is, so much of what he has, to Evan’s friendship. Evan’s love and support and encouragement. 

The bookstore. His relationship with Zoe and his mom. 

But, as Praveed has pointed out a number of times, it doesn’t mean they don’t exist without Evan. 

Not here, at least. 

Not in this universe. 

His dad flies in with him on his trip back to New York, as he has work to do in the city that week. He helps get him and Edgar sorted back in the apartment, then orders takeout for dinner and sits with Connor watching Law & Order SVU for a couple of hours before finally heading back to his hotel. 

It’s… nice. 

Nice in a way spending time with his dad hasn’t been for a very long time. 

He and Edgar get settled back in. Maureen cries when Edgar climbs into and gives her little kitty kisses on their first day back at work. Connor insists they close the store early and order some takeout so they can all catch up, and soon the four of them are in Connor’s living room, eating thai food and drinking craft beer, and something in Connor’s chest untwists, settles, makes him feel like everything is going to be okay. 

That he’s going to be okay. 

“Thanks for not burning the place down, by the way,” Connor says cheerfully as he grabs some more beer from the fridge where Jax has stored it. “Really appreciate still having a home and a business after a month out of town.”

“I mean, we thought about setting a bonfire,” says Leslie solemnly. “Especially when people started requesting copies of Ivanka Trump’s new self-help book.”

“Oh my god,” Connor says, scrunching up his nose in disgust. “Really? People really thought we’d stock that?”

“I think it was less actual interest and more morbid curiosity,” Jax says with a shake of their head. “But no, we told them we weren’t stocking that shit.”

“Good,” says Connor, handing out more drinks, then flopping back on the couch. Edgar perches on his shoulder and rubs his nose on his cheek, so Connor reaches up and scratches him underneath the chin.

“Edgar’s a seasoned traveler now,” Maureen says, looking at the cat with a fond smile. “Next stop is to get him a passport.”

“Oh my god, those Instagram posts,” Connor says, remembering. “I can’t believe you photoshopped him onto all those landmarks.”

“People wanted to know where he was!” Maureen replies with a grin. “So I just… embellished.”

“You have a true gift for social media marketing, Maureen,” Connor says fondly. “I’m serious.”

Maureen goes a little pink and Jax just beams at her, this huge, fond smile. “It’s all Edgar,” she insists.

Connor shakes his head. “No,” he replies. “You’ve worked hard. I really fucking appreciate it.” He ponders. “That reminds me, I was talking to Dave and Mikhail at Leatherbird about cross-promotion and he thinks our online presence has really helped the publishing company as well. Once I’m back in the swing of things, would you be up for a meeting? It could be cool to get something a bit more official going.” At Maureen’s shocked look, Connor feels like he needs to clarify. “We’d pay you as a contractor, of course.”

“I, uh…”

“Go on,” Jax says, before kissing Maureen’s cheek. “Knock ‘em dead.”

“Sure,” Maureen squeaks, and she’s bright red now, but she’s smiling, and Connor is just so fucking fond of her. 

Fond of all three of his bookstore kids. 

He knows it’s a little weird that he’s always referred to them as the bookstore kids, despite the fact that Leslie’s barely a year younger than him, but Connor’s always felt protective of them. They’re his people. People who care, who he can rely on. 

People who didn’t cut and run when things got hard. 

_ Stop it,  _ he tells himself firmly. He doesn’t need to think about Evan right now. 

Or, you know, ever. 

Because if he starts thinking about Evan, he’ll just… lose it. 

He’ll start screaming and never stop, because the hole in his heart is wide and gaping and won’t heal, won’t stop bleeding, won’t stop throbbing and aching and hurting, hurting so fucking badly, so the only thing he can do if he wants to survive is just… wrap it all up. 

Wrap it up in layers and layers of the softest things he can, wrap it up in blankets and cat snuggles and treasured friends and cooking with his mom and the comforts of home, and try to ignore when it bleeds through. 

Fuck, sometimes he feels like he’s just stumbling through every day with this huge gaping wound, leaving a trail of misery everywhere, and that everyone can just… see it, but they’re all too polite to tell him hey, could you sort your shit out, you’re bleeding on the carpet. 

Other times, though…

He’s okay. 

Right now, he’s okay, hanging out with the bookstore kids, in a place that’s always felt like home. 

The Little Book Nook was home before he and Evan reconnected as adults, and it’s still home without him, and Connor’s grateful. 

But it doesn’t stop the fact that sometimes Connor finds himself stopping in his tracks in his apartment because he swears he sees Evan, brushing his teeth in the bathroom, or standing at the sink washing dishes, or putting on a tie in front of the mirror, or curled up on the couch with his laptop, lost in his work. 

It’s like he’s everywhere. 

Except that he’s not here at all. 


	75. SEVENTY-FOUR

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> “I just… I can’t get over the feeling that this isn’t right.”

Sabrina stopped by on Thursday evening, and Evan didn’t have the energy to tell her to go away. She had basically stopped texting, instead showing up at random times to try and catch him off guard. And what bothered Evan was that it worked. Naturally she caught him the one night he realized he was too tired to work until ten or eleven o’clock, naturally she caught him on the day when he had remembered that he needed to actually eat something so he placed an order for Chinese and unlocked the door without even asking who was there.

“You are not egg rolls,” Evan said irritably when Sabrina stared at him. 

“What the fuck happened to your face?” She asked, her eyes huge and terrified. 

“You should see the other guy,” Evan quipped, letting her inside. 

“You got in a  _ fight _ ?” Sabrina asked, and shit, right, Evan was lying about this. 

“No sorry, dumb joke I just… tripped and fell down a flight of stairs last weekend,” He said, trying to pass it off as something silly and stupid and mildly embarrassing. 

Sabrina didn’t look impressed. “Were you drunk?”

Evan sighed. “Yeah, I was.”

“How much are you drunk these days?” She demanded, following him into the living room. 

“Not nearly enough,” He muttered, trying to ignore her. 

“What’s that supposed to mean?” Sabrina asked, sounding offended.

“Nothing, I’m just… tired and. Sore. I’m sorry. I just… are you here to yell at me some more about breaking up with Connor? Because I’m really fucking exhausted.”

“You got a new job and didn’t tell me,” Sabrina said, shaking her head. “I called your office last week because you were dodging my calls and ignoring my texts and apparently, you no longer work there.”

“I got another offer,” Evan said, shrugging but then regretting it because the movement hurt somewhat. “Sorry, I didn’t think it was a big deal.”

“I thought I was your best friend,” Sabrina pressed, looking extremely sad. “But I don’t know what’s going on with you lately. You broke up with Connor, we never talk anymore, you quit your job and now you have a fucking black eye and expect me to believe you just clumsily fell down some stairs?”

Evan couldn’t help it. He felt his eyes sting and he blinked rapidly, looking away. “I just… I’m having a hard time.”

“Yeah, obviously,” Sabrina said. “And you’re pushing everyone away. What I can I do?”

He shook his head. “Nothing. I just… I’m being a sad sack moping around after a breakup, I’m sorry, ignore me I’m fine.”

“Yeah that doesn’t work on me,” Sabrina said with her eyebrows raised. “What can I do?”

Evan shook his head again, sniffling. “I just… sometimes I feel like... Like all I’ve done since I moved here was fuck up one thing after another. I’m just. I’m never good enough and… I’m just tired. I haven’t been sleeping well. I’m sorry for worrying you.”

“What really happened to your face?” Sabrina asked gently. 

Evan laughed hollowly. “I did get into a fight. Some drunk idiot was… going off this homeless guy I see around sometimes? Otis is… he’s harmless, he just plays his guitar and never bothers people, so I pulled the guy off him and he took a swing at me.”

An edited truth, but still the truth. 

“Is he the young guy? He usually wears combat boots?”

Evan nodded. 

“I see him around too. I’ve tried to give him change whenever I’ve got some,” Sabrina said. “That was… Well at least that fucking sounds like you, Ev.”

Evan shook his head, his eyes still stinging. 

“I… I fucked up a few weeks ago,” Sabrina said, frowning. 

“What?”

“I uh. I went and yelled at Connor?”

“You didn’t,” Evan said, his heart sinking. “Sabrina. No. You can’t… you can’t do that, it’s not fair, he… He didn’t -”

“He lied to you,” Sabrina said. “And then he let you leave when you weren’t okay. I was pissed.”

“That is not okay Sabrina,” Evan said. “That’s so not okay.”

“Well someone had to talk some sense into him!” 

“No,” Evan said, his voice sharp. “That’s not… Oh my god, Sabrina, why would you do that? I broke up with him, okay, you can’t go around trying to fight my battles for me. Especially if you don’t know what you’re talking about.”

“I’m scared for you,” She said. “And I… whatever it was he lied about, it can’t be worth it. It can’t be so big that you’re getting yourself hurt and drinking too much like this. Whatever it is, you can work together, you can fix it.”

“No,” Evan said, “We can’t.”

“Did… was there someone else?” Sabrina asked, her eyes big. 

There. 

An easy explanation. 

Evan took it. 

He was a coward and he took it. “Yeah,” He said hollowly. “Connor slept with someone else. This guy he went out with once, before we dated, he… he slept with him. With… this guy Parker. When we were together.”

“Oh fuck,” Sabrina said, because she knew about the Parker drama, she knew because Evan had told her, had gone to her to complain and cry about Perfect Canadian Parker with his perfect fucking face and universal healthcare. “He slept with that guy? The Canadian? When?”

“Before he got sick,” Evan said, a roundabout half-truth. 

“Evan, oh my god.”

“And he didn’t tell me for… for a long time.”

“Holy shit, Ev, I had no idea I -”

“Do not say anything about it,” Evan warned her fiercely. “Don’t. I’ve fucked up plenty and… I. This isn’t Connor’s fault, okay? It’s mine. I dumped him, not the other way around. I’m the problem. I can’t handle the reality of what happened so I fucked up.”

“But…”

“No.”

“He knows you though,” Sabrina said, practically pleading. “He knows you’re… you take relationships seriously, you don’t mess around, you’re like one of those-those wolves or whatever that mate for life you -”

Evan had started laughing. 

“What?” She said, looking confused. 

“I’m not like that.”

“Bullshit you’re not,” She said, shaking her head. “You are a hardcore monogamist.”

“No,” Evan said, laughing more even though it hurt to laugh. “That’s  _ you _ , Sabrina. I… I’ve fucked around plenty.”

Sabrina’s eyes looked like they might bug out of her head. “No, you haven’t.”

“I have.”

“When?” She said, her eyes huge and glassy. “With me…?”

“No, no, of course not,” Evan said. “And not with Connor either but… you know. When I was single.” He let out another hollow laugh. “Like now.”

“I don’t…”

“I slept with a lot of people after we broke up,” Evan said bluntly. “To be honest, I think I slept with, like, most of my law school class.”

Sabrina looked gobsmacked. “What?”

“What yourself,” Evan said, still laughing. “I’m cute and I’m bi. People like me for whatever reason and I… like sex. Whatever. It’s not a big deal. I don’t really… that’s not really the point Sabrina.”

“So you’re telling me that after you and I broke up, when I was grieving our relationship and worried sick about you,” She said, her voice pained. “You were going around and acting like some kind of slut.”

Well. 

That wasn’t where Evan expected this to go.

“I guess?” He said, sort of hollowly. 

“Fantastic Evan, you seriously have some top-notch fucking coping skills.” She sighed. 

“The best,” Evan joked weakly. 

“I can’t believe he cheated on you,” Sabrina said. “I thought he was, like, your soulmate or something. I can’t believe he’d risk that.”

“It’s… it’s more complicated than that,” Evan insisted again. “Please don’t tell anyone.”

She shook her head. “It’s not mine to tell.”

“I meant… I meant don’t tell Graham.”

Sabrina looked surprised. “He’s my husband.”

“Yeah, and I’m your best friend,” Evan said. “Don’t tell him. I don’t want Connor to think I’m going around… spreading our shit out for everyone to see, okay? Don’t tell him. Please. For me.”

Sabrina sighed. “I don’t like you asking me to keep something from him.”  
“I just… Look I’ve hurt Connor enough. This would just hurt him more.”

“Fine. I won’t say anything.”

“Thank you,” Evan said quietly. “I appreciate it.”

* * *

The Saturday after Connor gets home, there’s a knock on the door of his apartment. 

He genuinely considers just… not answering it, because honestly, a knock on the door of his apartment really hasn’t been the greatest news recently. 

After a moment, there’s another knock, and it’s polite but tentative, and Connor sighs and goes to open it. 

He’s genuinely surprised to see Graham standing there. He’s got a backpack on and he’s carrying a canvas bag and he looks a little uncomfortable, but he smiles when he sees him. 

“Hi,” Connor says, genuinely unsure what’s going on. 

“I brought beer,” Graham says, his voice hesitant. “Also bacon burgers from that place we went to in spring that one time? And, uh, my X-box. I thought we could… hang.”

Connor blinks. “Sure,” he says, and lets Graham in. 

The fries are cold, so Connor puts them in the oven to heat up while Graham connects his X-box to the television, muttering to himself as he crawls around on the floor trying to make it work, which is oddly endearing. Once it’s all connected, they eat the burgers and drink a beer a piece and… don’t really say anything to each other aside from idle small talk. 

“I saw you were back in town on the store’s Instagram,” Graham says once they’ve finished the burgers. “I, uh… when you…” He lets out this shaky sigh. “Connor, I am so fucking sorry about what Sabrina said to you in September.”

Connor looks at Graham sharply. “Dude. That’s not yours to apologize for.”

“I didn’t know,” Graham says, something helpless in his voice. “I… I didn’t know until Zoe came over and yelled at Sabrina for, like, a good ten minutes. I…” He sighs. Rubs his face. “I was all ready to just yell right back at Zoe, but then I heard what Sabrina said to you and just… that’s not okay, that’s not fucking okay, I am so fucking sorry.”

Connor shakes his head. “Graham. You do not owe me an apology for something Sabrina said.”

“We argued about it,” he says wearily. “A lot. A whole lot. I… things have been hard and I’m trying to… she’s been trying to get Evan to talk to her and he’s been pushing her away and…” Graham lets out another sigh. “Last night she tried to talk to him again and he had a black eye and was pretty banged up and she completely flipped out, like completely lost it, and came home and just yelled and screamed about it and kept saying how it was your fault and I just…” 

Connor feels cold. “What happened?” he asks, even though he doesn’t want to. 

“I got a hotel room,” Graham says, looking absolutely fucking devastated. “I couldn’t… I can’t…”

That’s not what Connor’s asking, but…

“Fuck,” he mutters. “Shit, Graham, I’m sorry.”

Graham looks at Connor, his expression hard. “Look, Sabrina and I agree on pretty much everything. And if we don’t, I usually end up going along with what she wants if it’s not that important, you know? I want her to be happy. I want to support her. But this… I don’t understand how she can think it’s okay to blame you for this, when Evan’s the one who left you, so soon after you were seriously ill.” Connor can see Graham blink, then swallow visibly. “So soon after you nearly  _ died. _ I just… this isn’t okay, and I needed some space to cool down so we can talk about this properly.”

“Graham, I am so fucking sorry,” Connor says, and Graham just shakes his head. 

“I didn’t mean to make this your problem,” he says, his voice apologetic. “I just… it isn’t okay. What she said isn’t okay. And you… Zoe told us what happened, that you took that on board, that you passed out outside Evan’s apartment, that you risked your health for him, and I…” He shakes his head. Offers Connor a smile. “I’m glad you went home for a while. Are you… are you doing okay?”

“Yeah,” Connor says, nodding. He shrugs. “I mean, I’m not…” He sighs. “I’m not, like, the pinnacle of health and totally over getting my heart broken, but I’m… better than I was. The space was… good.” He sighs again. “Maybe you and Sabrina taking some space for a little while will help? But you should… you should talk about it. Maybe get someone to help out?”

Graham nods. “I’ve been looking up recommendations for relationship counselling,” he says seriously. “I don’t want to lose her. I don’t want that at all. I just…” He lets out a long, shaky sigh. “This is… toxic. Whatever’s going on with Evan, it’s toxic and it’s…”

They’re both quiet for a long time. 

Finally, Graham speaks. 

“I don’t want to be the guy who’s an asshole about his wife’s ex,” he says, his voice so quiet. “But it’s pretty fucking clear to me that the guy is basically in self-destruct mode right now, and he doesn’t give a fuck who he takes with him.”

Connor flinches. “I… Graham.”

“Sorry,” Graham says immediately, rubbing his face. “Fuck, I’m an asshole, I know you still love him, I didn’t…” He looks so sad, so tired, and older than Connor thinks he really is. “I just don’t like seeing people I care about get hurt.”

“I get that,” Connor says, feeling his heart wrench painfully. 

He really, really fucking gets it. 

They play some kind of video game on Graham’s X-Box for a while. Connor hasn’t really played video games in ages, but he has to admit it’s kind of fun. Stupid and mindless and entertaining and a good way to pass the time. 

When the fries are heated through, they eat them with a ton of ketchup and have another couple of beers apiece, which is when Connor realizes that he has absolutely nowhere near the tolerance for alcohol he used to. It’s hitting him pretty hard. 

“You probably think I’m pathetic,” Connor says to Graham. “For still loving him. After everything. And maybe I am? I don’t know. I don’t really know anything these days.”

“I don’t think you’re pathetic,” Graham says immediately, and he looks so sad. 

“I just… I can’t get over the feeling that this isn’t right,” Connor continues, frowning. “That the whole universe isn’t right. That reality has warped and the world is tipping on its axis and everything’s wrong, really wrong, dangerously wrong, and something bad is going to happen because I fucked it all up.”

Graham looks at him intently. “How did you fuck it all up?”

Connor takes a long swig of his beer. “I… I can’t explain it, it’s just… I fucked it up.”

Graham just keeps looking at him. “Sabrina told me that… Evan said you cheated.”

Connor stares at Graham for a long moment, completely confused. “He… he said that?”

Evan told Sabrina that he cheated?

Connor didn’t…

Parker. 

That’s what he means. It’s…

That’s not fair. That’s not fucking fair at all, Connor didn’t…

Fuck. 

He did. He  _ did _ cheat, he did, because Evan, his Evan, was here and alive and Connor was trapped. 

He was trapped. 

He thought he wouldn’t get home. He’d had no hope at all of getting home, it was taken from him, he’d been hopeless and drunk and stupid and so fucking drunk he doesn’t even remember it and…

“That’s what Sabrina said,” Graham says, looking at Connor with this concerned expression. “That’s what she said he told her. I said that even if you did, it didn’t make what Evan did okay. It didn’t make it okay for him to leave when you needed him.”

“It’s… it’s complicated?” Connor says, a little helplessly. He laughs a little. “Fuck, that sounds like such bullshit, like I’m trying to make an excuse but I swear, it’s not…” He sighs. “I can’t explain it, even though I wish I could, but I can tell you that I made a mistake. But I didn’t… it wasn’t like that. I can’t explain, I wish I could fucking explain-”

“I’m on your side here,” Graham interrupts firmly. “I’m on your side, okay?”

“Okay,” Connor replies, feeling lost. “I hate that there are sides.”

Graham’s face twists horribly. “Me too.”


	76. SEVENTY-FIVE

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> “It just… didn’t work out.”

After what happened with Charlie, Evan knew things were bad. They were not good, they were very bad, and he ought to do something about that. 

He had to do something about that. 

So, tail between his legs, he made a call to Marcia’s office to see if she could fit him in soon. She got him scheduled for early Friday morning. 

She looked extremely displeased when he arrived. She looked genuinely angry with him, which Evan… didn’t really appreciate. 

“Where should we start?” She asked, her tone clipped. 

Evan bit his lip, hard, suddenly very unsure that he should be here. He explained how he and Connor had broken up, and when she pressed him on it, Evan told her the same half-truth he had told Sabrina. 

“He slept with someone else,” Evan said softly. “He slept with Parker… who he knew… Parker and Connor had a date before we started going out and I’ve always been… insecure about it and… yeah.” He scrubbed a hand over his face. “I just. I miss him all the time.”

Marcia nodded. “Have you considered forgiving Connor?”

The honest answer was yes, constantly, all of the damn time. All he thought about was trying to make this right between them, but Evan knew that was stupid, that was dangerous, he was stupid and dangerous. 

“I don’t think I can,” Evan admitted honestly, and that was also true. The Parker thing stung but that… It was the dying part. It was the lying part. The part where Connor had been so fucking stupid, so stupid as to risk his life for Evan when Evan knew he wasn’t worth that… His stubborn insistence that he would do it all again even if it meant he might have died. Evan couldn’t abide that. 

“I just… the thing is, I… I don’t really know who I am without Connor,” Evan heard himself saying, and he realized with horror that was… true. Absolutely true. He had no idea who he was meant to be because the person he was before he knew Connor was… broken. So broken. Broken and compulsively driven and constantly sad and Evan didn’t know how to be someone other than that guy. 

“You’re talking about this breakup as if Connor left you,” Marcia said. “When it was the other way around.”

But Connor had left. 

He’d left Evan alone. He’d left him here by himself, and he had come back but at far too high a cost and he had sworn he wouldn’t ever leave but then he left. 

Connor had been the one to leave. He’d left Evan behind, went into another reality and had adventures in weird science and made friends and fucked Parker and… left Evan here to deal with the fallout. And sure it had probably been lonely and awful a lot of the time, but Evan had actually been alone. He’d been alone because he couldn’t explain any of it to Zoe or his mom or Sabrina. 

And Connor had gone ahead and told Andi. He’d told her in both universes about Evan’s craziness, about the loops, about everything and it wasn’t fair it wasn’t fair it wasn’t just Connor’s to tell. 

Even though Evan had told Charlie… 

Had fucked Charlie… 

Fuck. 

Evan confessed to Marcia about sleeping with Charlie. Letting Charlie fuck him, letting Charlie hurt him, hit him, break his ribs. 

Marcia nodded and nodded and nodded. 

At the end of the session, she gave Evan a prescription for a new antidepressant and told him he should plan to meet with her weekly for the time being. She mentioned being very concerned about his mental state. She gave him some emergency numbers to call if he needed. 

Evan left her office without making plans to return.

* * *

Connor stares at his laptop for a long moment, wondering if he’s actually seeing this. 

He’d clicked on a link Andi had sent him and now he’s staring down the face of Dr. Joshua Weekes, PhD, who signs his emails fucking redundantly and put Connor through not one but two excruciating experiments to get him back to his correct universe. 

_ Hey babe,  _ the email from Andi had read.  _ We missed the lecture in NYC but how about we get the train to Philly and see him this weekend? Could be interesting, maybe answer some questions. Love you! _

Connor… really doesn’t want to go to Philadelphia to see this guy talk. 

Doesn’t want to see him ever again. 

But somehow, yet again, he’s dragged Andi into this mess, this stupid fucking bad sci-fi novel mess, and…

Well…

He remembers what Dr. Weekes had said to him, right before the second experiment. He’d told some story about taking a shit in a playground and blaming it some other guy, who’d been saddled with the nickname Poopy Peter for the next decade or so. He’d told Connor that no one but him knew about that. 

_ “When you get back to your reality, find me and tell me what happened. And tell me that story so I’ll believe you.” _

Connor doesn’t want to do that. 

He really doesn’t fucking want to. 

But…

Fuck, doesn’t he have some kind of moral obligation that this guy doesn’t go around performing more of these fucked up experiments? Shouldn’t Connor put a stop to it, or at least warn him of the possible consequences?

At the very least, if the guy knows that one of his experiments worked, then maybe…

Fuck. Connor doesn’t know. 

The thing is, despite everything that happened, despite Evan finding out about the experiments and promptly breaking up with him over it, Connor doesn’t regret it. 

He doesn’t regret coming back to this reality. 

He…

He likes his life here. He does. 

Even without Evan, it’s… still good. He’s close to his sister again, he owns his own business, he has the best employees in any universe, he’s on better terms with his mom. 

Hell, he’s on better terms with his dad, though he suspects that’s got more to do with the whole ‘surviving a coma’ thing. 

Connor’s actually getting used to spending one-on-one time with his dad, healthy one-on-one time, and it’s so bizarre to think about, considering that he’d genuinely made a promise to himself to avoid being alone with his dad, avoid opening himself up to the hurtful things he’d said.

His dad has changed. 

People change, Connor knows. People are capable of change. 

His dad’s stopped treating him like a disappointment.

His sister stopped hating him and being scared of him. 

Evan fell out of love with him. 

Connor swallows hard. 

Emails Andi back and tells her he’s in. 

Andi shows up at his apartment bright and early on Saturday morning, armed with coffee and breakfast pastries. It’s cold, so she’s all bundled up in a cozy-looking sweater. Connor puts on a scarf and gloves and a hat as well as his jacket and customary gazillion layers of clothing, says goodbye to Edgar and heads out with Andi, grabbing the subway into the city to Grand Central Station so they can get their train to Philadelphia. 

They sit and eat their danishes and finish their coffees when a familiar voice calls out. 

“Andi? Oh my god!”

Connor looks to the source of the voice and his heart sinks a little to see Jenny Parson, heading toward them. 

It sinks even more when he realizes that she’s not alone. 

“Andi, you remember my friend Parker,” says Jenny with a smile. Then she notices Connor and smiles, this smile completely devoid of recognition. “Hi, I’m Jenny.”

“Connor,” he says, a little wearily. 

Jenny looks at Andi, then at Connor, then at Parker, and lets out an awkward laugh. 

“Are you the Connor who edited my book through Leatherbird Publishing?” she asks, and Connor nods. “Nice to put a face to the name.”

“Hi,” Parker says, mumbles really. He’s got his hands in his pockets and is wearing a nice jacket and a scarf and looks tired and sad. 

“What brings you guys here?” Andi asks, looking at Connor with slight concern, then back to Jenny. 

Jenny’s eyes light up. “We’re going to Philadelphia to see a lecture,” she explains. “There’s this guy, this physicist? His name is Joshua Weekes and he’s, like, a complete nutcase, oh my god, he’s got all these theories about parallel realities and multiple deaths. And since I write mostly science-fiction, I was just like ‘I have to hear this guy’ and I dragged Parker along to cheer him up because he’s been such a sad sack recently.”

“Everything okay?” Connor asks, because Parker’s a nice guy and doesn’t deserve any of the shit Connor put him through, in any universe. 

Parker shrugs. “I’m fine. Just… bad breakup.” His cheeks turn pink, like he’s embarrassed to be talking about it, and… fair enough, Connor thinks.

“Sorry to hear that,” Connor says quietly. 

Andi and Jenny are deep in conversation about… something, and Parker lets out this awkward chuckle. “I, uh… this is weird? I’m sorry that this is weird.”

“Why are you sorry?” Connor asks, frowning. “I’m the one who was a total dick to you and ghosted you.”

Parker goes pink. “I… yeah, you’re right, I’m not sure why I’m sorry.” 

“Well, you are Canadian,” Connor points out, and Parker actually smiles at that, a smile that shows off his dimples, and he really is a very, very attractive man. 

Connor wonders, just for a moment, if there’s a parallel universe where he didn’t ghost Parker a year and a half ago, where they kept seeing each other. Would it have worked out?

Probably not, Connor decides. Even then, he’d been in love with Evan. He just hadn’t known it yet. 

People change, he reminds himself. People are capable of change. 

Maybe one day, he won’t be stupidly in love with Evan Hansen and he can move on.

He just doesn’t see it happening anytime soon. 

“I saw you in a Buzzfeed article,” Parker says suddenly. “About your cat? He was photoshopped in front of all these famous landmarks, it was really cute.”

Connor nods. “Yeah,” he says, actually smiling at that. “Maureen is one of my employees, she did all the photoshopping when Edgar and I went back home for a bit.”

Parker looks cautious as he continues. “The article… it said you were in a coma. That you nearly died.” He looks genuinely sad. “I’m so sorry, that must have been terrifying.”

“I… yeah,” Connor says, a little lamely. “I’m… obviously I’m not dead, I…” He sighs. “I’m doing a lot better. But yeah, it was scary.”

Parker gives Connor this sympathetic smile. Then the smile turns into something a little more real. “Hey, did you ever ask your friend Evan out?” 

Connor flinches and Parker’s eyes widen. “We dated for a while,” Connor says, before Parker can apologize again like the Canadian he is. “It just… didn’t work out.”

Parker frowns. “I’m really sorry to hear that.”

“Yeah,” Connor says. He’s exhausted, and they haven’t even gone anywhere yet. “Me too.”

Since they’re all going to the same place and Andi and Jenny won’t stop fucking flirting, it seems like Connor and Parker are stuck with each other for the time being. They all get on the train and Andi and Jenny sit and talk about… something, Connor’s really not following, and Parker puts in headphones so Connor follows suit. 

When they get to Philadelphia, Andi says something about cheesesteak, and soon the four of them are walking the streets, trying to find a restaurant that Andi swears she went to the last time she was in town, and it takes them almost an hour to show up and find that the place has been recently closed due to a health code violation. 

Andi looks heartbroken. 

“We probably dodged a bullet,” Connor points out. 

“And it’s not like there aren’t other places to find cheesesteak in Philadelphia,” Parker adds. 

They end up finding something near the lecture theatre and it’s… okay, Connor guesses, he’s never been a huge fan of cheesesteak in the first place, but Andi seems happy, as does Jenny, and Parker doesn’t really seem to have much of an opinion either way. 

Honestly, it just kind of seems like Parker’s walking around, going through the motions of life. He seems really fucking miserable, and Connor’s heart goes out to him, because… 

Well. 

Same. 

Connor is also really fucking miserable. 

And not sure why he agreed to come along to this lecture. 

But here he is, in Philadelphia, eating overrated cheesesteak with his ex-roommate, a girl he befriended and betrayed in a parallel universe, and a guy he ghosted in this universe and drunkenly fucked in another. 

This is fine. 

This is just… great. 

When they get to the lecture, it’s moderately well attended. There are a lot of students, and a fair few hippie, new-agey types, as well as some people who just look like your average person on the street who thought this free lecture would be interesting, or at the very least, entertaining. 

The four of them find seats near the back, and soon enough, there’s Dr. Weekes. He’s got less hair than the last time Connor saw him, but other than that, he looks the same.

He is a terrible public speaker. 

Truly terrible. 

He’s all over the place, nothing makes any sense, and even if he were talking about something that didn’t sound like complete bullshit, it would still be a mess. 

Several people walk out after the first ten minutes. 

More at the twenty-minute mark. 

By the time he’s finished his hour-long lecture, Connor’s completely lost track of what he’s saying and Parker is genuinely snoring on his shoulder. 

As what’s left of the crowd applauds, Parker wakes up and turns bright red, and Connor notes that he’d drooled on Connor’s shoulder a little. 

He looks like he’d welcome a rogue flower pot falling from the sky right about now. 

“Fuck, I’m so sorry-”

“Dude, it was boring, I don’t blame you,” Connor assures him. 

As they’re packing up to go, Andi nudges Connor firmly in the ribs. “You gonna go talk to him?” she asks, louder than Connor would like, because both Jenny and Parker look at him quizzically. 

“Uh, yeah,” Connor says, trying not to look too awkward. “I was going to ask him some questions about this book I’m editing.”

“Oh?” Jenny asks, looking genuinely interested. “What’s it about?”

“Parallel realities,” Connor blurts out.

Jenny raises an eyebrow. “You’re fact-checking a science-fiction novel?”

Connor shrugs. “I’m just… interested, I had a question about something, it’s not a big deal-”

“You came all the way to Philadelphia from New York City to ask a question about a book you’re editing?” Parker asks, sounding impressed. “That’s dedication.”

“Well, we like to go the extra mile,” Connor says, trying for a smile, and Parker actually does smile at him. 

Fuck, those dimples are cute. 

“We’ll wait for you outside?” Andi says, grabbing Jenny by the arm. “Then we should get a drink.”

“Oh god yes,” says Jenny with a dramatic sigh. “That was… so dry, oh my god.”

“What were you expecting?” Parker asks Jenny, seeming slightly amused. “Star Wars?”

“I’m just saying,” says Jenny as they head off, “it’s not the material that’s boring, that’s for sure.”


	77. SEVENTY-SIX

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> "I just want you to know what it is you’re playing with. People’s lives."

Connor steadies himself, then heads to the front of the room where Dr. Weekes is packing up his materials. He looks tired and annoyed, but pastes on a smile when he sees Connor approaching him. 

“Hi,” Connor says awkwardly. “I, uh… I just wanted to ask something.”

“Fire away,” says Dr. Weekes, this professional, not quite friendly expression on his face. 

Connor takes a moment. 

And then just… blurts it out. 

“Okay, actually, I don’t want to ask anything,” he says. “I have something to tell you? I met you in an alternate reality. You helped me get back to this one and told me to come find the version of you in this reality and tell you it worked. So… I’m doing that. It worked. Congratulations.”

With that, he turns to go, but Dr. Weekes grabs his arm tightly before he can. 

“Okay,” says Dr. Weekes, his voice firm. “I don’t know who the fuck you are but you can’t just throw that at me and leave. Start from the beginning.”

“I got stuck in an alternate reality,” Connor says wearily. He just wants this over with. “Like the ones you’ve been talking about. We tried two experiments to get me back. One involved me dropping a ton of LSD in a sensory deprivation tank and getting electrocuted. That only kind of half worked, I was… basically astral projecting or whatever, but I did see my body in this universe. I was in a coma.”

Dr. Weekes looks utterly shocked. “And what was the second experiment?”

“Bathtub full of ice,” Connor says, feeling a chill go through him at the memory. “I… you stopped my heart. And that brought me back to my body in this universe. After a three week coma. I had hypothermia here for a while, I… I’m still always fucking cold.”

Dr. Weekes blinks a few times. Laughs weakly. “You’ve got one hell of an imagination, kid.”

“When you were a kid you took a shit under the slide in the school playground,” Connor says immediately. “You blamed it on some other kid and they called him Poopy Peter for, like, years.”

Dr. Weekes’ face completely drains of color. He stares at Connor intently. “I’ve never told anyone that.”

“That’s what you said,” Connor says. He’s cold and he’s tired and he wants to go home. “You told me to tell you this story so you’d believe me. And I did. So… yeah.”

He turns to go and Dr. Weekes grabs his arm again. “You can’t just go, I have so many questions. I need to know everything about what happened. Everything.” He looks almost manic in his excitement. “This is huge, this is… this is incredible, it’s proof! It’s proof of all my theories, it can’t be denied, it-”

“The only reason I’m telling you,” Connor says, making sure his voice is clear and steady, “is because it nearly fucking killed me, okay? Those experiments nearly killed me. I’m, like…” He laughs humorless and gestures to his body. “I’m a mess. I’m better than I was but I’m a fucking mess.”

“But the experiments got you back where you belong,” says Dr. Weekes insistently. “Surely you understand-”

“I’m glad I’m back,” Connor interrupts. “I am, I really am. But… I paid a price, okay? And I… I just want you to know what it is you’re playing with. People’s lives. So do me a fucking favor and don’t go electrocuting people in bathtubs again any time soon, okay?”

With that, he wrenches his arm away from Dr. Weekes and strides out of the building as fast as his legs can carry him. 

Parker’s waiting outside the venue for Connor. He’s on his phone, looking miserable, and Connor waves a little awkwardly. 

“Where are the others?” he asks. 

“They’re in a bar across the road,” says Parker, looking up from his phone and smiling weakly. “I said I’d wait for you.”

“Thanks,” says Connor, smiling back. “That’s nice of you.”

Parker shrugs, and Connor follows him across the road to this tiny little bar. When they get there, Andi and Jenny are already clearly a few drinks in and are talking about… Connor still doesn’t know, they’re just going for it. 

Connor orders an orange juice. He’s not really drinking, at least nothing stronger than beer, because he’s still on pretty strong pain medication, even now, and he’s still too thin, so he doesn’t know if he’s going to be able to handle his liquor and he doesn’t want to find out in a city he doesn’t know. 

Parker watches him as he orders, looking curious. 

“Still recovering,” he says, by way of explanation. He tries for a smile. “Turns out a coma can really fuck you up healthwise.”

Parker winces. “I really am sorry about that,” he says. 

“Not your fault,” Connor points out. 

Parker grins, and it almost reaches his eyes. “I’m Canadian, remember?”

Connor actually does laugh at that. 

After a few drinks, Andi and Jenny start talking about staying in Philadelphia for the night, about getting a hotel room. They are legitimately all over each other and Connor decides that he’s done. 

“Sounds fun, but I’ve gotta get back to the city,” Connor says, trying for an apologetic tone. “I gotta get back to Edgar.”

“Who’s Edgar?” Jenny asks. 

“My cat,” Connor explains. 

“Remember I sent you that Buzzfeed article?” Parker says, and Jenny’s eyes light up. 

“Oh my god, yes, that cat is so fucking cute.” She pouts at Andi. “I want a cat.”

Connor’s known Andi long enough to know that’s an opening for a pussy joke. 

“See you guys later,” he says, then heads out. 

Maybe five minutes later, there are footsteps behind him. He turns to see Parker, practically jogging to catch up with him. 

“The minute you left they started making out,” says Parker, looking a little traumatized. “Jenny started taking off Andi’s top and I’m pretty sure she’s not wearing a bra.” 

“Chances are they’ll get kicked out soon,” Connor says, turning around and looking back toward the bar. Then he shrugs. “They’re grown ups, they’ll figure it out. Shall we get the train?”

“God yes,” says Parker, and they head in the direction of the train station. 

It’s not as awkward as it could be on the way back to New York. 

Connor asks questions about Parker’s MA, which he answers, and they talk a little bit about Parker’s book, which he’s still trying to finish but his studies keep getting in the way. 

“I keep saying I’ll take, like, a weekend to go and write somewhere,” Parker confesses, his smile evening out into something more real after a while. “Then I… don’t.” He lets out this sad sigh. “That’s what I should have done this weekend instead of some wacko science lecture, oh my god.”

“It’s not the worst idea,” Connor says thoughtfully. “Surely there are, like, cabin in the woods places upstate you could go and be all novelist in.”

“Maybe I should,” says Parker, sounding tired. “After all, it’s not like I have a boyfriend to distract me anymore.”

Connor feels bad for him. “I’m sorry, dude. Breakups suck.”

“Yeah,” says Parker, leaning his head back on the seat. “It was, like, completely out of the blue, too? I didn’t see it coming, and I just… god, I’m so embarrassed, I was like… crying and begging him to stay, it was super manly of me.”

“Masculinity is a prison,” Connor says immediately. Then he smiles sympathetically. “If it’s any consolation… same? When Evan left I was just… a mess, a fucking mess.”

Parker looks genuinely sorry. “Yeah? I’m sorry.”

Connor knows he shouldn’t be talking about it, shouldn’t be doing this, but he can’t help it, it just pours out of him. “I, like, tried to talk to him? I waited outside his apartment, trying to get him to talk to me so I could fix it, so I could fix things.” He laughs a little bitterly. “And then I fainted outside his apartment and his roommates found me and they’re both doctors and one of them was actually  _ my _ doctor when I was in hospital, so… that went down really badly.” Parker’s eyes are wide and horrified and Connor lets out a sigh. “Yeah, so she called my sister, who called my mom, and they shipped me off back home for, like, a month, to focus on recovering from how much the coma fucked me up. And to get me away from Evan so I couldn’t do anything else that fucking stupid, I guess.”

“Holy fuck, dude,” says Parker, who’s openly staring at Connor now. “Jesus. That’s… that’s a lot.” He frowns. “He left you right after you got out of a coma?”

“Not right after,” Connor tries to explain. “Like, a month?”

“But… you’re still sick,” Parker says. Blinks. “Sorry, that was rude, I’m just saying that… it’s obvious you haven’t fully recovered. That’s… that’s awful, I’m so sorry.”

“He had his reasons,” Connor says, suddenly feeling like he needs to defend Evan. 

Parker rolls his eyes. “Whatever they were, they hardly make up for leaving your boyfriend when he’s recovering from a fucking coma.”

_ Well Parker,  _ Connor thinks to himself,  _ he’s kind of pissed because I slept with you in an alternate timeline, so… _

He doesn’t say that. 

Doesn’t say anything. 

They pass the rest of the trip in silence. 

When they arrive in New York, just after they go their separate ways, Parker turns around and walks back to Connor, something like determination in his face. 

“Would you want to grab a coffee sometime?” asks Parker, his cheeks pink. “You said you weren’t really drinking at the moment, so… coffee?”

Connor feels his heart sink. “You are such a great guy, Parker,” he says carefully. “You really are. And as much as I’d really love to grab coffee with you, I think we both know that it’d be a bad idea.”

Parker doesn’t even look surprised. “Because you’re still in love with Evan.”

“And you’re still in love with Toby.”

Parker lets out this sad laugh. “It fucking sucks, doesn’t it?”

“Yeah,” Connor agrees, his voice hollow. “It feels like having my heart ripped out, every fucking morning.”

Parker smiles sadly. 

Kisses Connor on the cheek. 

“Be safe, Connor.”

With that, he disappears into the crowd. 

* * *

Evan worked late a lot. 

Because he didn’t want to be in his apartment, surrounded by stuff that all just seemed to remind him of Connor. 

So he worked late. A lot. 

And often when he worked late, he noticed that his intern Chelsea worked late too. Even when Evan told her to go home.

“If you’re here, then I’m here Mr. Hansen!” She’d said many times now. 

“Please… please call me Evan. Please,” He would say in return because the idea of being called “Mr. Hansen” outside of a courtroom kind of sat strangely with him. 

Chelsea was really eager. Almost nauseatingly eager. She wanted to go into environmental law and she worked on a lot of Evan’s cases, helping him to find precedents and do some investigation for him on a few big cases. He liked her a lot. He’d liked especially since she hadn’t made a big deal out of the days when she’d needed to cover up his shiner with makeup before a court appearance. She seemed thoughtful and genuine. 

Which was why he found himself surprised one night when they were both still hard at work at seven-thirty when Chelsea came into his office and asked him if they could go for a drink. 

It wasn’t that unusual to have a drink with someone you were mentoring, Evan reasoned. He’d only have the one. It was only seven-thirty. 

It was late in the semester. She was probably just going to ask him for a letter of recommendation. 

“Sure,” He said. “I can go for one.”

She beamed at Evan. They rode the elevator down together, then walked the short distance to a nearby bar. It was pretty empty - it was a Monday evening after all. Evan bought them their drinks - whisky for himself, a vodka soda for Chelsea. 

They talked over Evan’s case, musing over an angle he was considering for his argument, and Chelsea actually had quite a few points to offer that countered his line of thinking, and he smiled at her and thanked her for her honest feedback. “I was sort of a suck up when I was an intern,” Evan admitted, smiling a little. “It’s good that you’re firm in your positions.” 

Chelsea went bright red. 

She convinced him to have a second drink. 

Then a third. 

When she suggested a fourth, Evan gently turned her down. “I don’t think that’s wise,” he said because she wasn’t steady on her feet. 

He offered to call her a cab, but Chelsea said she had forgotten her keys back at the office. Evan didn’t want to let her go wandering the building after hours drunk with no keys, so he walked her back. “I’m just going to grab my laptop,” he told her, heading into his own office. “And then we can walk out together.”

Evan sat down at his desk to unlock the drawer where he stowed his laptop when Chelsea stepped into his office. She had taken off her jacket. Her cheeks were flushed, and Evan realized she’d lost the tights she had been wearing under her sensible pencil skirt. And her shoes. 

“Everything okay?” He asked her, genuinely confused. 

Chelsea shut the door to his office behind her. She crossed the room quickly, and before Evan knew exactly what was happening, she was straddling his hips and kissing him on the mouth. 

Evan reacted suddenly, rolling his chair back so fast that Chelsea lost her balance and tumbled to the floor. 

“Shit, are you alright?” He asked her, getting up. “You didn’t hit your head did you?”

She shook her head and then… burst into tears. 

“What’s… what’s going on?” Evan asked her helplessly, very much unsure about what was happening. 

“I really need a good recommendation,” Chelsea sobbed. “I went to a state school for undergrad and I’m n-never going to get a good job if I can’t get a good reference from this firm.”

“I…” Evan said, bewildered. “I… I already said I’d write you a recommendation, I don’t understand…”

“Oh please,” She spat, wiping her face. “I know how things at this firm work. I’ve heard the stories. I mean, it’s how you got this job, isn’t it? You fucked Richard?” She laughed bitterly. “I need this. So just. I’m willing to do whatever you want me to do to get it, okay?”

“What?” Evan said. “I don’t want to sleep with you!”

Chelsea gawked at him. “But they only hire interns who… who they want to get with. If they don’t… if nobody fucks you, you’re fucked. Everyone knows that.”

Evan shook his head. “Chelsea. Trust me… I think you’re a brilliant student and I’m going to write you a glowing reference, but I do not expect you to sleep with me to get ahead. I really don’t… don’t want that.”

“Is it because I’m not skinny?” She asked, her eyes huge. 

“Chelsea, it’s not… It’s because it would be extremely inappropriate,” Evan said, desperately. “I’m your boss.”

“So? Richard was yours!” She said. “And you fooled around with him! We all know that’s why he chased you so hard after you won the McCool case!”

Evan felt like he was choking. “Look, that… that wasn’t my idea. What happened between us, okay? I didn’t have a choice.” He cleared his throat. “You do. You’re brilliant and extremely talented and… And you’re so much smarter than this.”

Chelsea burst into fresh tears and Evan patted her shoulder awkwardly. “I’m sorry. You’re a very nice person. I think you’re a great intern. I just… I’m your boss.”

“Everyone says that’s just how things work here,” She said softly, wiping her eyes. Evan handed her a tissue. 

“No,” He promised. “Not anymore.”


	78. SEVENTY-EIGHT

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> “You make it better by existing. By staying alive."

Connor’s doing some paperwork for the store when there’s a knock at the door of his apartment. He goes to open the door to find Andre standing there, carrying a beaten-up backpack Connor recognizes. 

He still has the same fucking backpack he did in college.

“Hey,” says Andre with a smile. “I was in the neighborhood, thought I’d stop by. You busy?”

“Just doing some admin,” Connor says with a smile, ushering Andre in. “I was due for a break anyway. How’s it going?”

“Good,” Andre says, putting his backpack on the kitchen table and pulling out some kind of container, wrapped in what looks like tea towels. “Nonna heard you were back in the city and told me I should bring you some of her ziti.”

Connor’s immediately transported back to being twenty years old and first meeting Andre’s grandmother, who’d told him immediately that he was too skinny and she needed to feed him. He’d tried to call her Mrs. Bianchi but had been told immediately that he was to call her Nonna. 

He’d been too scared of her to argue. 

“Nonna’s ziti is amazing,” Connor says, realizing then and there that he hasn’t really eaten. “I haven’t had lunch yet.”

Andre grins. “I figured you hadn’t. That’s why it’s in tea towels. Nonna thinks it keeps food warm and she’s usually right.” He gestures to the container. “Dig in, dude.”

“Want some?” Connor asks. 

Andre laughs. “I literally just came from Nonna’s, do you honestly think she let me leave hungry?”

“No,” Connor concedes, grinning and grabbing a plate some cutlery. “Want a drink? I’ve got whisky.”

Andre looks like he’s considering. “It’s one in the afternoon. I have to pick up Celeste from school at three.”

“One drink won’t hurt you,” Connor points out. “And it’s the good stuff.”

Andre shrugs. “Fair point.” He takes off his jacket, then has a seat at Connor’s kitchen table while Connor grabs the whisky and a glass and puts them in front of him. Connor sits down too and serves himself a generous helping of ziti, which is still piping hot and smells absolutely heavenly. 

“I’ll have to visit Nonna and thank her,” Connor says after the first bite. “See if I can convince her to give me her recipe.”

“I’d like to see you try,” Andre replies immediately. 

Connor grins and takes another bite. “I bet I can. She loves me.”

Andre rolls his eyes. “She always did have a soft spot for you. I think it’s because you’re so skinny. It makes her want to fatten you up.”

Connor’s aware that he’s still dangerously thin, that he still hasn’t put anywhere near enough weight back on after his illness, and winces a little. “Yeah, well, maybe a phone call, then. If she sees me like this she’ll probably freak out.”

Andre looks horribly sad. “She’s just glad you’re alive,” he says, his voice soft. “We all are.”

Connor clears his throat. “So how’s Celeste liking that book series I recommended?”

Andre’s eyes light up. “Oh man, you nailed it. She’s obsessed.”

Andre launches into a rant about Celeste’s new-found obsession, and Connor eats his ziti and enjoys listening to his friend.

He’s really fucking glad he has Andre.

It’s stupid that that for years they were living in the same city, in the same part of town this whole time but barely really spoke aside from when Connor came in to order booze until after the loops. 

He and Andre were close in college. Connor, Joel, Andre, Dave and Mikhail were all English majors and fell into a kind of group in sophomore year. Dave and Mikhail dated through most of college and Joel usually had someone he was seeing, so Connor and Andre were the odd ones out if Joel brought along whoever he was with at the time, the ones who naturally paired up when there were six of them going out to do whatever.

During senior year, Andre met Dita and they were hot and heavy for a while. Connor remembers being put out that Andre stopped hanging out with them, and then kind of an asshole when they announced they were having a baby. 

He’d warned Andre that it wasn’t going to last. Told him he was being an idiot. 

And… well, Connor isn’t sure he’s totally wrong, but he knows how much Andre loves his daughter, how Celeste is his whole world. He just knows how fucking smart Andre is, how brilliant and insightful, and still thinks that he should have gone on to do his MA, maybe even a PhD. 

Not just pick up whatever work he could find to support his daughter, especially after Dita went running for the hills. 

Andre’s a New Yorker, born and bred, and has a big Italian family who help out with Celeste, so he’s not exactly doing it alone, but there’s still this part of Connor that wishes he hadn’t just given up. 

He’d talked about being an English professor one day. 

Connor had teased him about how he’d have to wear tweed. 

Since the loops, since Connor died and died and died, he and Andre talk more. Hang out more outside of Connor buying booze. They never stopped being friends, exactly, but they’d drifted apart, gone from being people who knew everything about each other to people who only saw each other on occasion for short periods of time, acquaintances. 

Since the loops, Connor’s made more of an effort. Talked to him more often. Had drinks with him every once in a while. Texted and called and actually shared more about his life, and Andre had done the same, welcomed Connor back with open arms. They’re not as close as they were, but they’re closer than they used to be. Connor likes it. 

Since the coma, Andre’s been checking in on Connor a lot more. He was one of the many people to bring by food when Connor got out of the hospital, mostly cooked by Nonna Bianchi. After Evan left, the texts and calls became more frequent. The unexpected visits, too. 

Andre’s been good to him. He’s always been a good friend. 

Connor’s trying to be one, too. He’s even looked after Celeste a couple of times. It’s easy, because she’s a good kid and well past the “let’s put everything in our mouths” stage, and because she’s Andre’s kid and loves books. Every now and then, when the need arises, she’ll come to the bookstore after school and hang out until one of her relatives can pick her up. 

She calls him Uncle Connor and has been begging Andre to let her get a cat ever since she first laid eyes on Edgar Allan Paw. 

Andre keeps saying no, but Connor’s pretty sure Celeste will wear him down by Christmas. 

Andre looks on as Connor finishes the ziti in record time, his expression fond. “Good to see you’ve got an appetite,” he says with a smile. “I’ll ask Nonna to make you some more.”

“You don’t have to do that,” Connor tries, and Andre laughs. 

“I probably won’t even have to ask,” he says. “I’ll just say that you enjoyed it and she’ll start making more.” Something in his face changes and when he continues, his voice is careful. “She came to visit with me one time when you were in the hospital. I can’t remember if I told you.”

Connor feels his face drain of color. Nonna Bianchi is little and old, even though she’s tough as nails, and she’s very much a homebody, very rarely going out, despite being a social butterfly. Connor remembers her saying one time that she was so important, people came to her. 

Nonna coming to see Connor in the hospital while he’s in a coma is… 

Fuck. 

It just doesn’t feel right. 

“You didn’t tell me,” Connor says, hating how wobbly his voice is. “That’s… wow. That means a lot.” He looks at Andre, his expression careful. “You know that I really fucking value our friendship, right?”

Andre’s face softens. “Me too, dude.” He takes a sip of his drink, then continues. “You fucking scared me over the summer. Scared all of us.” He sighs. “Fuck, it was… so Leslie who works with you? She told Dave and Mikhail that your sister had to make the call about your life support. Dave called me and told me and I just… fuck, I just kind of wanted to go back in time and punch myself in the face. For not, like, trying harder to stay connected after Celeste was born. For letting it get to the stage after Columbia where we were just people who knew each other? Sure, things have been better between us the last few years, and I really love that, it’s so good to have you back in my life, man, I just…” His shoulders sag. He looks at Connor, and he looks so fucking sad it makes Connor’s chest ache. “I hated that I let that time go to waste. I was just really fucking mad at myself for it.”

“That was on me,” Connor says firmly. “I was an asshole when you told us Dita was pregnant.”

Andre actually laughs at that. This wet, sad laugh. “Yeah,” he says, his voice fond. “You were.”

They’re quiet for a long moment, then Andre continues. 

“We should all go visit Joel sometime,” he says, like it’s just occurred to him. “You, me, Dave and Mikhail. Just… I don’t know, go to Ohio and visit. It’s really hard for him to get out here because he’s basically his mom’s full time carer, but… we could go visit him?”

“We should,” Connor agrees with a smile. “We’ve been texting a lot? I can float the idea next time I talk to him.”

Andre nods. “Yeah. That’d be cool.” He looks so horribly sad. “He was… fuck dude, he was a fucking mess back in July. Dave asked me to be the one to tell him that they were taking you off life support. It was legitimately the worst conversation I have ever had in my entire life.” He sighs. “God, he spent those three days desperately trying to get someone to look after his mom so he could fly out and say goodbye. Just… asking everyone he could, trying to fucking find  _ someone _ who’d stay with her, even if it was just for a day, so he could fly to New York and say goodbye before they turned off your life support.” Andre takes a long sip of his drink, then continues. “I think in the end there was talk of, like, his sixteen year old cousin being there for the day so he could come to your funeral? But she couldn’t do it in those three days, so we…” 

Andre finishes his drink. Doesn’t look at Connor. “We FaceTimed him into your hospital room. Me, Dave and Mikhail. The five of us, together for the first time in years, and you were in a fucking coma. It was… brutal. So fucking brutal.”

“Fuck,” is all Connor can manage to say. 

He’s cold. 

He’s really, really fucking cold, all of a sudden, and Andre’s eyes widen in alarm when he sees him shaking. 

“Shit, dude, I’m sorry, I didn’t mean to freak you out-”

“It’s okay,” Connor interrupts. “I mean, it’s not okay, nothing about what happened is okay, I just…” He tries to smile but fails miserably. “It’s hard, you know? I don’t… I hate that people were hurting because of me, it’s so fucking messed up? Like, how do I even fix that? How do I make it better?”

Andre blinks a few times, and Connor’s hit with the realization that his friend is trying not to cry. “You make it better by existing,” he says after a long moment. “By staying alive. Fuck Connor, I… you make it better just by breathing, by still being here, I am so fucking glad that when we said goodbye, it wasn’t for good. I am so fucking glad you’re still with us, fuck.”

Andre pulls Connor into a firm hug then, and Connor blinks repeatedly, trying not to cry, but it doesn’t work out so well and soon there they are, two grown men, crying in a kitchen next to an empty Tupperware container. 

Connor’s just…

Overwhelmed sometimes. 

It’s terrifying to know that there are all these people, so many fucking people, who came to say goodbye in those three days before they were supposed to pull the plug. 

Before he came back. 

Just in time. 

It was just in time, it was down to the wire, it was…

_ “You only came back seconds, seconds before they were going to take you off of life support. You almost didn’t make it. That was so fucking stupid Connor why the hell would you do that?” _

Connor swallows hard. 

Maybe Evan wishes that he hadn’t come back. 

Maybe. Connor doesn’t know. He doesn’t know what to think anymore. 

But there are plenty of people who love him. Who almost lost him. And who are thankful that he’s back. 

And Connor has to keep existing. For them. 


	79. SEVENTY-EIGHT

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> “Thanksgiving is a fucking mess."

“No, Maureen.”

“But it would be so cute!”

“He won’t wear it. He doesn’t even like wearing his collar.”

“But it would make such a cute Instagram post.”

“Mrow.”

“See? He agrees with me.”

“He does not,” Connor says, sending his traitorous cat a dirty look. “And you’re not putting him in a fucking pilgrim outfit.”

“I could just Photoshop it,” Maureen ponders, looking at Edgar, who has decided to roll over on his back and present his belly for pats on the counter. “It would be so cute.”

“Thanksgiving is a fucking mess,” says Connor as he rubs Edgar’s belly. “I get that it’s an important American holiday or whatever but we can celebrate it without dealing with the piece of shit pilgrims.” 

“Amen to that,” says Jax from across the room where they’re restocking the travel section. The guy who always buys travel books but never goes anywhere was in earlier that day and cleaned them out, once again. 

The poor dude is good for business but seriously, he needs to get himself a fucking plane ticket and just go already. 

“Fine,” Maureen says, sighing. “It’s just that it would make a great marketing post-”

“Tell you what,” Connor says. “We’ll get a photo of all of us with Edgar when we have our Thanksgiving meal and put that on Instagram, okay?” 

Maureen’s eyes light up. “Really?”

“Sure,” says Connor. “It’s better than putting my cat in a fucking pilgrim costume.”

“That’s so cool.” Maureen says, her voice fond. “We need more pictures of the whole team on our social media.” 

Connor, who has never been a fan of social media, scrunches up his nose, but doesn’t argue. Maureen is taking her new official role as social media guru seriously and he has to admit that it is paying off. She’s managed to leverage the publicity from the Buzzfeed article about Edgar’s Photoshop adventures into some seriously good sales figures for the month. 

It’s been really fucking busy since Connor got back, which is great as far as he’s concerned. It keeps him from obsessing over things. Keeps him occupied and out of his own head. He’s had to order in a lot of new stock, which has kept both Marco and Caroline very happy, and they’re anticipating one hell of a Black Friday, based on Maureen’s social media work. 

Which is why he decided to stay in town for Thanksgiving. His mom wanted him to come home, and he’d thought about it, because last year he’d spent Thanksgiving with Evan and the memory hurts like hell, but in the end, he knows that he can’t leave the store. 

When Maureen and Jax found out he was in town for Thanksgiving, they insisted he spend it with them. Jax originally invited Connor over to their tiny apartment, but after Leslie’s girlfriend Camille had to make an emergency trip to Haiti to help look after a sick relative, she asked if she could join them and Connor suggested they just hang out at his place. 

His mom is happy he’s not going to be alone. 

So is he, to be honest. 

Zoe’s gone home for Thanksgiving to hang out with her jazz band friends, like she does every year. She’d asked Connor four times if he was sure he’d be okay with the bookstore kids and if she should stay in New York, but he’d insisted she stick to her routine. 

God knows he’s messed enough shit up for her already. 

The day before Thanksgiving, Connor’s not officially rostered on but he’s in and out of the store floor, checking up on stock and making sure everything’s running smoothly. It’s steadily busy, but Maureen and Leslie have a good handle on things. In the rare moments where they’re not dealing with customers, Maureen is brimming with excitement about their Thanksgiving dinner tomorrow. 

“Jax is making nut roast,” Maureen says with a happy smile. “With this, like, mushroom gravy? They did a test run of it a few weeks ago and it’s so good, oh my god, it’s stupidly delicious, you’re gonna love it.”

“I tried out this vegan brownie recipe,” says Leslie, looking at Maureen with this fond expression on her face. “It’s actually really good. I’ll make some tonight to bring along.”

“Jax said that not everything has to be vegan,” Maureen points out. “But I know that they appreciate the effort.”

Connor, who has everything he needs to make this creamy vegan potato dish in his slow cooker tomorrow, is pretty sure that all three of the non-vegans are quite happy to just go vegan for the day. As well as the potato thing, Connor’s made an apple pie, which only needed a few tweaks to the pastry to be vegan. He’s even picked up a pint of this coconut ice cream that he knows is good. 

He knows it’s good because it’s the kind that Evan likes. 

_ Stop it, _ he tells himself firmly. 

He’s not going to think about Evan today. He’s not. 

He tells himself that every morning.

He has yet to get through a single day without thinking about him. 

Maybe today will be the day. 

Around two in the afternoon, the bell over the door rings and in walks Heidi Hansen. 

Connor blinks a few times to make sure that he’s not fucking hallucinating. 

She looks tired, and a little nervous, like she’s not sure she’s supposed to be there. She’s got a duffel bag over her shoulder. She takes a few steps into the store and Edgar immediately perks up and runs straight for her, rubbing his little face around her ankles. Heidi’s face lights up and she bends down and starts petting Edgar. 

“Hello beautiful boy,” she croons in that hilarious baby voice she always uses to talk to Edgar. “You’re even more beautiful than the last time I saw you, it’s so good to see, yes it is Edgar. Such a good boy. So handsome.”

“Hi Heidi,” Connor says, heading toward her, figuring he’d better just pull off the metaphorical band-aid. “You here for Thanksgiving?”

“I am,” Heidi says, standing up. She looks like she wants to give him a hug but doesn’t. She just smiles widely. “Cynthia said you were having Thanksgiving with the bookstore kids, so I thought I’d stop by and say hello.”

“It’s nice to see you,” says Connor, because that’s not a lie. It is nice to see Heidi. She looks older than the last time he saw her, somehow. Tired. Drained. Worried. “Did you just arrive?”

Heidi nods. There’s this flash of guilt on her face. “Evan couldn’t get off work to pick me up, so I just ordered a Lyft. And he won’t finish for a couple of hours, so I figured I’d stop by. I hope it’s okay.”

“I’m glad you did,” Connor says, and that’s not a lie either. He likes Heidi a lot. “Have you had lunch?”

Heidi shakes her head. “I was going to grab something on the way back to the apartment-”

“I’ll make you a sandwich,” Connor offers. “Come on upstairs for a bit.”

Connor takes a moment to check in with Maureen and Leslie before heading upstairs, both of whom look more than a little confused to see Heidi. Neither of them say anything. 

Heidi refuses to let Connor take her bag, even though he offers twice, but she’s letting him feed her, so that’s something, Connor thinks. He pulls out a bunch of stuff from the fridge and some bread, grabs some plates and cutlery and gestures for Heidi to help herself. 

“The spread is dairy-free,” Connor says, “so you can use it if you want to put some chicken in your sandwich.” 

Heidi thanks him and they make and eat their sandwiches in relative silence, Edgar curled up on Heidi’s lap. 

“The bread is nice,” Heidi says after a few bites. “Is there a bakery nearby?”

“Andi and I made it,” Connor admits. “She’s trying to teach me some of her baking skills. I’m not quite at her level yet, but with a bit of practice, apparently I show promise.”

Heidi smiles, this sad smile. “Evan always said you were a fantastic cook.”

Connor feels his smile fade. “How… how’s he doing? Is he okay?”

Heidi looks at Connor, expression cautious. “I don’t know what to tell you,” she says after a moment, her voice quiet. “I haven’t seen him since Yom Kippur. I know he’s busy with the new job. Really busy.” This look of concern passes over her face, but it’s gone in a moment. “It’s a good opportunity for him. Junior partner is a really big deal, especially this early in his career.”

“He’s very good at what he does,” Connor says, trying to keep his expression neutral. “I… it’s good that he’s being recognized for his talents.”

“Yes,” Heidi says, still clearly being so careful with her words. “It is. He works hard.”

“I know,” Connor replies. He takes another bite of his sandwich so he doesn’t have to come up with something else to say, something else to add in this weird, surreal conversation with his ex-boyfriend’s mom. 

Heidi seems to realize just how fucking weird and surreal this is, because she changes the subject almost immediately. “The store is really killing it on social media these days,” she says with a smile that’s a little more real. “Edgar’s just getting more and more famous.”

“It’s a struggle having a famous cat,” Connor jokes. “I’m trying not to let it get to his head. Make sure he has a normal life.”

Heidi grins. “I guess you’ve had to learn to deal with the purr-parazzi.”

Connor actually laughs at that. “Oh yeah. Security measures around here are strict. It’s basically a full-time job shielding him from the pressures of fame.”

“It’s gotta be done,” Heidi replies, and the smile reaches her eyes this time. It makes her look younger. “Last thing you need is a scandal. Bad for the store’s image.”

“Oh yeah,” says Connor immediately. “Gotta make sure no one catches him doing catnip behind the non-fiction section.”

Heidi laughs, this big genuine laugh, then looks down and pets Edgar behind the ears. “We’re just kidding, Edgar, we know you’re a good boy who would never get caught doing drugs, isn’t that right baby?”

“I appreciate that you said he’d never get caught,” Connor says. He smiles a little ruefully. “I was kind of a stoner in high school, so I’ve got no real leg to stand on there.”

“Me too,” says Heidi with another laugh. 

When they’ve finished their sandwiches, Connor digs around in his cupboard for the box of brownies Andi dropped off the day before, the batch that doesn’t have pot in them. (She brought two batches and Connor insisted that she label which ones were edibles because he knew he’d have guests.) He and Heidi eat a couple of a piece with coffee and chat about all sorts of things - the weather, how things are going back home, the bookstore, Heidi’s paralegal job - and it’s nice. Connor’s always felt comfortable with Heidi, and it’s nice to see that hasn’t gone away. 

“It’s so good to see you’re doing better,” Heidi says as she gets her things ready to go. “You look so much healthier, Connor, and I’m so glad.”

“Thank you,” Connor says, trying not to be too weird about it, because it’s… nice to hear. 

Heidi stands there for a moment, a little awkwardly. “Is it okay if I give you a hug?” she asks, and Connor nods. 

Heidi gives good hugs, Connor remembers as soon as her arms are around him. She’s warm and she smells good and she feels safe and he has to try very, very hard not to cry, because it reminds him of Evan. 

As if there’s anything in Connor’s life that  _ doesn’t _ remind him of Evan,  _ fuck.  _

“Have a nice Thanksgiving,” Connor says as he walks Heidi down the stairs and out to where her Lyft is waiting. “And… I hope Evan does, too. I… I wish him nothing but the best. I honestly do.”

Heidi looks so sad. “I know, sweetheart.” She pats him on the shoulder. “You have a wonderful Thanksgiving, too. Enjoy yourself and take care, okay?”

“Okay,” Connor says with the best smile he can muster up. “You too.”

Once Heidi leaves, Leslie comes over and stands by Connor as he watches her ride disappear into the New York traffic. “You okay?”

“I don’t know,” Connor admits. 

Leslie slings an arm around his shoulder and gives him this half hug. Leans her head on his shoulder. “We’ve got you, Connor. We’ve got you.”


	80. SEVENTY-NINE

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> "Everybody else gets some leeway when things get hard, but I don’t. I don’t get any.”

Evan arrived home after a grueling day in court, and remembered that it was the day before Thanksgiving. 

He only realized it as he walked inside and saw Alex aggressively mashing some potatoes while his mom and Mattie were shoving garlic and lemons into the ass of a turkey. 

“Evan,” his mom said, looking up and smiling at him. She looked worried. He hated that. “Give me one second, I’ll wash my hands,” She said, dashing off to the bathroom. 

Evan tried to smile at his roommates. “I’m just gonna go change,” Evan said softly. He trudged to his bedroom, slowly pulling off his tie. Taking off his suit. 

His arm hurt. 

He’d burned it. 

Again. 

He was trying to stop but… 

It was a problem. 

Evan had a lot of those. 

He changed into jeans and an old hoodie from undergrad. He headed back into the kitchen in his socks. His mom pulled him into a tight tight hug when he returned to the kitchen. “Hi sweetheart. How are you?”

“I’m okay,” Evan said, hugging her back just as tightly. He’d missed her. He had been dodging her calls a little bit. He missed talking to her. He missed being around people. It had been a lonely few weeks. 

“Are you eating?” His mom said, looking at him with a frown. “You look too thin.”

“I’m alright,” He said. “Just been busy.”

“Don’t worry,” Mattie said from the kitchen. “Alex is cooking enough for a small army.” 

“The bird was a gift from work,” Alex said. “A don’t-leave-because-we’re-being-sued gift.” 

Everything went quiet. 

“Sorry,” Alex said, looking embarrassed. “Sorry…”

“It’s fine,” Evan said briskly. “I helped with the suit. It’s fine.”

“Your job isn’t… isn’t at risk is it?” Evan’s mom asked Alex cautiously. 

She shook her head. “No, I wasn’t named in the lawsuit. I’m alright. My job isn’t in any danger or anything.”

“Good,” Evan’s mom said. 

On the morning of Thanksgiving, Evan and his mom opted just to watch the parade from his apartment rather than attend in person. Evan tried not to think about how the year before he had taken a selfie of the two of them and sent it to Connor… or how Connor had shown up with way too many desserts. And Edgar who was still just a kitten. 

Evan didn’t want to think about that. 

As predicted, Alex made way too much food. Like, seriously way too much. Even if eating wasn’t such a chore lately, Evan still would have had a hard time cleaning his plate. Mattie kept raving about how good everything was, and did you know Alex has been trying to get better about kosher cooking, and Evan’s mom nodded along and agreed that Alex was the best thing ever and Evan just drank some more wine while his anger quietly simmered. 

Of course his mom was carrying on and on about how great Alex was. Alex was the perfect child his mother never had. She worked hard and she wasn’t crazy. She hadn’t left her partner when they got sick. She made Heidi proud, unlike Evan, who just disappointed her and disappointed her and reminded her of Evan’s dad. 

“Did you call your father?” His mom asked him as they were clearing away dishes from dinner, almost as if she had read his mind. 

“Nope,” Evan said shortly. “And I’m not planning on it.”

His mom frowned. “Evan…” 

“Look, every year I call him and he’s busy with the kids and Tracy’s family and… I’m just bothering him when I call. And I’m just really not in the mood to deal with the background of crying kids and replacement family chatter today.”

His mom looked hurt. “He didn’t… He didn’t replace us, sweetheart, he -”

Evan should have bitten his tongue, but he didn’t. “Of course he did. He waited until he felt grown up and then went and married his mistress and had two kids with her. They’re off playing happy family today and there’s no reason for me to call and interrupt.”

“He’s… Your dad cares about you, Evan, he just doesn’t always know how to show it.”

Evan rolled his eyes at her. “Really? Then why is it that I’m always the one who calls him? Huh? I always have to call him or text him, and I only do it to make you feel less like you cut him out of my life which is frankly stupid because… he did that himself. You shouldn’t feel guilty that he and I don’t have a relationship.”

“Come on, Evan,” His mom said, her eyes big and sad. “I don’t want to have this fight every year.”

“He left you too,” Evan said, his voice hard. “Or did you forget that part? What with the two of you and your late-night phone calls and holiday cards and whatever. I know you and Carl are all buddy-buddy, because I dunno, you think if you’re friendly it won’t feel so bad to think about how he packed his shit and left us, but it’s not my job to babysit your feelings about him. He left us, when I was fucking seven. He left both of us and it’s been over twenty years so maybe, just maybe, I get to fucking decide whether or not I have to call my dirtbag father on Thanksgiving from now on.”

“Baby -”

“I asked you to stop calling me that,” Evan said shortly. He went into his room, shut the door, and locked it. 

* * *

Evan had taken Friday off to spend with his mother. They’d talked about taking advantage of all of the Black Friday deals, maybe seeing a show or something. When he got up on Friday morning, Evan felt a bit guilty for snapping at his mom about not calling his dad yesterday. He was being a jerk, ungrateful and unkind. He should apologize to her. 

He ducked out of the apartment early to go buy some coffee and bagels as an apology. There was a bagel place close to his apartment that his mom really liked (as he discovered when she was here over the summer while Connor was sick), and he figured that might help to smooth things over. 

He also dropped a bagel off with Mr. Abrahamson because he hadn’t seen the old man in a while and figured he was the only sensible person who was awake this early on a holiday. He dropped in for about ten minutes and then promised he would stop by dinner the first night of Hanukkah in a few days, because Mr. Abrahamson was celebrating with some friends of his from his AA group. 

Evan headed back up to his own apartment and saw his mom sitting at the kitchen counter, frowning at her phone. 

“Did you see this?” She asked him when he set the coffee down in front of her. She held her phone out and showed Evan a photo of the staff from The Little Book Nook, all gathered around Connor’s kitchen table wearing big happy smiles. Edgar was in the middle, preening. 

Evan’s stomach flipped uncomfortably. 

“It already has ten thousand likes,” His mom went on. “It’s nice that the store is getting so much buzz. Especially after that article?”

Evan frowned. He didn’t like thinking about that fucking Buzzfeed article that showed off pictures of Connor and Edgar, photoshopped beside various historical landmarks all over the world. 

“Yeah,” Evan said hollowly. 

“It looks like the store is doing really well,” His mom said. “It was really busy when I stopped by on Wednesday.”

Evan’s stomach dropped further. He felt like it was just kind of hanging out by his knees, dangling from his esophagus, choking him. “You went to visit the bookstore?” He said quietly. 

His mom frowned a little. “Yes. I wanted to see how Connor was doing.”

Evan blinked a few times. “Seriously?”

“Honey, I know you two broke up, but I still care about him. I didn’t stop because you’re not together anymore. I wanted to see how he was doing.”

“And how is he?” Evan asked, his voice tight. “How’s Connor?”

His mom frowned. “Alright. Better, I think, since he went home to stay with Cynthia for a while. But I think he’s still pretty… broken up about what happened with the two of you, though.”

Evan frowned at her. “I don’t understand… Why would you go there?”

His mom looked confused. “Like I said, I wanted to check on Connor.”

“But we broke up,” Evan said, his voice a bit shaky.

“I know sweetheart, but I… I know this has been hard on both of you and I just wanted to see how he was. I think he misses you.”

Evan swallowed hard. 

“And I think you miss him too.”

Of course he missed Connor. He missed Connor like you’d miss oxygen or like you’d miss your leg if it disappeared overnight. He missed Connor constantly, painfully, every second he missed him. He missed Connor’s smile and his laugh and the way he’d tuck pieces of hair behind his ears only to have them flop back out seconds later. He missed kissing him and getting to hold him and having sex with him, he missed everything about Connor from the way he smelled to the way he tasted to the sounds he made when he was yawning. He missed him all of the time. 

All of the time. 

But… 

But Evan had left to keep him safe, and his mom was… trying to undo that. She was blurring the lines. Because she didn’t understand and she’d never understand so she was trying to fix what was unfixable. “I can’t believe you went there.”

“Cynthia has been worried since he got back to the city, and I hadn’t seen him since October… I don’t think it was so wrong of me to check in.”

“But we broke up,” Evan repeated, his voice dull and flat. “You can’t even, like,  _ pretend  _ to be on my side about all of this?”

His mom opened her mouth and closed it a few times. “I know you’re still hurting from it honey, but I think if you just talk to him -”

“I don’t want to talk to him,” Evan snapped. “I don’t want to talk to him and I don’t want to see him and I definitely don’t want my mom to visit him behind my back.”

His mom looked angry. “You’re being ridiculous, Evan. I’m allowed to visit whoever I want. Connor is my -”

“Your what?” Evan snapped, cutting across her. “He’s your what?”

His mom’s face flushed with anger. “We’re, I dunno, friends!”

Evan rolled his eyes. “Oh please, you’re not  _ friends  _ with him. He was my boyfriend and now he’s not and you… You don’t get to act like this -”

“Well maybe if you weren’t acting like such a coward and running away from your problems, Evan, we wouldn’t be having this conversation.”

That landed. 

It landed hard. 

Both of them were quiet for a moment, the fall out resonating. 

Evan cleared his throat. “I know you don’t get why I left but… I’m not just running away. I swear, I’m not just scared.”

“Well from where I’m standing, that’s all I can come up with,” His mom said. “And I’m worried about Connor, okay? He’s been very unwell and -”

“ _ He’s _ not your kid, okay? Just because you got along doesn’t mean you’re allowed to just go hang out with him when I’m not around. That’s really fucked up, mom. And really fucking unfair to me.” 

“I’m not… Evan, come on.”

“You’re always looking to take anyone else’s side but mine. How am I supposed to compete? Everybody else gets some leeway when things get hard, but I don’t. I don’t get any.”

“I don’t understand what you’re talking about,” His mom said, taken aback. 

“Bullshit you don’t,” Evan shouted. “Oh, isn’t Alex wonderful? Look, Evan, she cooks  _ and  _ she’s a doctor! She has a girlfriend and an MD and  _ friends _ ! She’s  _ so  _ amazing! Aren’t we all just falling all over ourselves over how fucking great she is! Let’s not talk about how she probably fucked something major up that led Connor to be in a coma, let’s not worry if she caused it. And Connor too, isn’t he lovely? He owns a bookstore and he has a cat, he has tons of friends and smoked a lot of pot in high school so he’s just like me, and he’s so  _ polite  _ Evan, so he’s basically the best sort of person! Nevermind that he’s a fucking asshole who until I met him barely even spoke to his family! Forget that he was cruel and callous and only cared about getting high until I came into the picture, but look at how fucking  _ wonderful  _ he is now that he got his life together.” 

“Evan -”

“I’m your kid, okay?” Evan shouted, his heart beating too hard, thumping painfully in his chest, his hands clenched into tight fists, his whole body quivering. “Me.  _ I’m  _ your kid. And I know I’m a shitty kid to get stuck with, I know that everyone else in my life would make a way better kid to you, but you’re  _ my  _ mom. You can’t just pick someone else over me.”

“That’s not what I’m doing,” His mom said, sounding heartbroken. “I just… I just want to be a part of your life, honey, that’s all I want.”

“Don’t give me that crap, it doesn’t work on me,” Evan spat at her. “You’re… you like everyone else around me better than you like me, don’t deny it.”

His mom’s eyes went huge with hurt. “That is not true.”

“I get it, I mean. I don’t blame you. I’m a shitty fucking person.” 

“Don’t talk about yourself like that.” 

“I am! I’m a fuck up and an asshole. And a fucking coward, like you said. I don’t… I’m not good at being around other people, I’ve never been good at it and you hate that about me, you always have.”

“Evan, please -”

“I’m the worst thing that ever happened to you, I know that, but it would just be nice if for once I could feel like you were on my side about something. Even if you’re not, it would be nice to get just a little bit of fucking support.”

“You are the best thing that ever happened to me,” His mom insisted, her eyes glittering with tears. “You’re the  _ one  _ good thing I-”

“Stop, stop it, stop it!” Evan shouted at her. “I’m so sick of that lie you keep telling me. You know I fucked up your life and I know I fucked up your life. I know dad left because of me. I know all of that. We both know what happened, so just admit it. Admit that you don’t want to be around me, you’d rather be around my friends or-or my exes.” 

“I don’t! But you won’t talk to me and they will!”

“Bullshit!”

“I’ve tried, Evan, and I’m just… I’m really scared for you and-and worried. You don’t seem like yourself.”

“You don’t even fucking know me!” Evan thundered. “You only know stuff about me because you’re, what, spying on me with my friends and ex? You gonna call up Sabrina next, get coffee with her? Try to get the scoop on what’s wrong with me now? You don’t even like her!”

“You -”

“You use the people around me to feel like you and I are close, but we’re not. We’re not close, we haven’t been close since I was fucking sixteen and you left me all alone all of the time so you could go back to school!”

“Evan -”

“You never support me when I need you. When I wanted to leave for undergrad, you convinced me to take a gap year and then threw a fit when I didn’t want to take a second! You were angry when I moved to New York, you were pissed when I broke up with Sabrina even though you hated her because you thought I was ‘running away’ then too! You always take everyone else’s side. Connor’s, Sabrina’s, Alex’s, dad’s! It doesn’t matter, just as long as it’s not me. I mean, fuck, no wonder I ended up taking a job where all I have to do is make case after case for myself, it’s all I’ve ever done with you. I have to constantly fight you for even the smallest amount of support.” 

“Baby, listen, that’s not true, that’s not -”

“Admit it, you can’t fucking stand being around me. You don’t even  _ like  _ me, and you’ve never actually liked me!” 

“How can you say that?” His mom asked, tears falling down her face now. “You know that’s not true I… I  _ love  _ you, Evan, I-”

“Yeah, sure, you love me,” Evan said, feeling color rising in his cheeks. “But you don’t  _ like  _ me. You hate me. You think I’m a shitty person..”

She shook her head hard. “I think you’ve made some mistakes,” His mom said softly. “But that doesn’t make you a bad person. And I don’t hate you, Evan, I could never -”

“Sure, I’ve made mistakes,” Evan said, throwing his hands up. “I’m the one always fucking things up for you. Nevermind that I wouldn’t even be here if you hadn’t made the mistake of getting pregnant at nineteen. I know you think you fucked up by deciding to keep me -”

“Evan!”

“-Fucking up your whole life because, what, Carl didn’t like condoms? I mean, face it, if you’d just kept your fucking legs closed, I wouldn’t be here and your life would be a hell of a lot better. You just won’t admit it because  _ you’re  _ the coward here. You’re the one who is too scared to be honest!”

“Damn it, don’t say that! Evan, that is not true!”

“Stop lying to me,” He shouted, his heart beating too hard, so hard, so hard he could hear the rush of blood inside of him. “I’m never going to be enough to make up for you giving up everything for me. It doesn’t matter how well I do, how far I go in my career, you’ll still be disappointed because of how I turned out.”

“That is not true!” She cried, “I’m not disappointed in you I just… I just worry because I know you’re not happy!”

“Since when has me being happy ever mattered to you?” He demanded. 

His mother’s face crumbled. She was crying. 

He had hurt her. Made her cry. 

And he’d wanted to. He’d wanted to make her cry. 

What the fuck was the matter with him?

Seriously, what the fuck was the matter with him that he’d do that?

“I’m going into the office,” Evan said dully, hurrying from the room. “I have things I need to deal with there.”

His mom didn’t protest or ask him to stay. 

When he got back later that night, all of her things were gone. She had gone home early. 

Evan was honestly a little bit relieved. 


	81. EIGHTY

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> “It wasn’t supposed to be like this. It wasn’t.”

Thanksgiving is nice. Jax’s nut roast is fucking delicious, Maureen brings a pumpkin pie and Leslie makes mulled wine on Connor’s stovetop, which results in his entire apartment smelling amazing. Edgar preens at the attention, evidently delighted at having so many people in his house, and Maureen sets the timer on her camera to take a dozen or so pictures of the whole Little Book Nook crew, then puts the best one up on Instagram. 

It gets a thousand likes in the first half an hour. 

People really fucking love Edgar, apparently. 

Connor finds himself looking at the Instagram post regularly over the next few days. Reading the comments, even though he knows you should never read the fucking comments. 

Most of the comments are people wishing the team happy thanksgiving and telling Edgar he’s beautiful, but there are comments about Connor. 

Pointing out that he’s dangerously, unhealthily thin. 

Those comments are pretty much consistently followed up by someone replying something along the lines of “dude was in a coma, cut him some slack” but… Connor’s embarrassed anyway. 

He’s really been fucking trying. 

He really has. 

A couple of people note that he looks better than he did, and Connor finds himself going through the Instagram account. It’s mostly pictures of Edgar, honestly, but when he goes back enough, he finds a picture of himself in the hospital bed, Maureen perched on the edge of the bed next to him. 

Connor doesn’t even remember this picture being taken. Fuck. 

Fuck. 

He looks… horrific. 

Just… awful. He’s too pale, his cheeks are sunken in, he’s basically skin and bones and his skin has this horrible waxy look to it. 

He looks like a corpse. 

Like a zombie. 

_ “Connor, look at you. You’re broken, you’re skin and bones.” _

Fuck. It’s… disgusting. He looks disgusting. 

No wonder Evan left. 

Fuck. 

Connor should have seen this coming. He remembers asking Evan to hold on, that he wouldn’t always be like this, but it’s four months later and he’s still basically the walking dead. 

No wonder Evan left. 

No wonder Evan doesn’t want him anymore. 

No wonder Evan fell out of love with him. 

It gets to him. He knows it shouldn’t, he shouldn’t let it, but it does, and he spends the next week feeling heavy, lethargic, listless and sad. The bookstore kids seem to notice and spend a lot of time trying to cheer him up. Edgar refuses to leave his side, perching on his shoulder almost constantly as he does the still comparatively small amount of work he can manage, given his energy levels. 

In the evenings, he tries to eat and sleep, but it’s hard. 

It’s really hard. 

He wakes up exhausted. Exhausted to the core. 

He’s doing some work in the stockroom in early December, trying to power through the all-encompassing tiredness when he feels a familiar wave of vertigo flowing through him. The room starts to spin and he doesn’t have time to react before everything goes black. 

“Connor? Connor. Connor, look at me. Look at me? Come on, love, focus on me, okay? I love you I love you I love you.”

Connor blinks. His vision is hazy. He blinks again, then again, and Evan’s terrified face comes into view. 

His vision goes hazy again, but this time it’s because his eyes are welling up with tears. “You’re here?” he asks, his throat rough. “You’re really here?”

Evan looks terrified. Confused. “Of course I’m here,” he says, clearly trying to keep his voice even. “I just went downstairs to get our Thai food.”

What?

Connor looks around. He’s not in the stockroom. He’s in his apartment. Edgar is meowing frantically next to his head, nuzzling Connor’s cheek with his little face. He goes to sit up only to find that he’s still dizzy as fuck. Evan immediately reaches out to help him sit up. 

He’s so tired. 

This… this doesn’t make sense. 

“You left,” Connor says, his voice weak, because… that’s what happened, right?

Evan left. 

Months ago, he left. 

He…

“Just to get food,” Evan says again. He gestures to the kitchen table. “Look, it’s on the table.” He pushes some hair out of Connor’s face. Lets his hand linger on Connor’s cheek for a long moment. 

His hands are so warm. 

“You did?” Connor asks, still so confused. He doesn’t know what’s happening, doesn’t understand, doesn’t…

Doesn’t want to leave. Doesn’t want to go anywhere if this is real, if Evan’s here, really here. 

“I missed you so much,” Connor says, knowing his voice sounds desperate. “You were… I thought you…”

Evan looks incredibly concerned. “Did you hit your head?” he asks, and Connor moves to feel around the back of his head. Notices a lump. 

“I think so?” Now that Evan mentions it, his head does hurt. A fucking lot. “I…”

“I’m calling Alex,” Evan says determinedly. “But first I’m getting you to bed.”

Connor’s still so dizzy. “Don’t go?”

Evan leans in and kisses him. His lips are soft and warm and Connor can taste salt. 

Because Connor’s crying. 

Because he’s missed this, he’s missed him so fucking much. 

“I’m not going anywhere,” Evan says firmly. “I’m staying right here with you, okay? I don’t want to be anywhere away from you, I love you so, so fucking much.”

Evan scoops Connor up, his arm reaching beneath Connor’s knees, and Connor remembers him doing this before, doing this to help him up the stairs, to help him back to bed after a shower, and he’s warm and solid and this might not be real, it might not be real, Connor doesn’t know he doesn’t know he doesn’t-

“I love you,” Connor says, closing his eyes for just a minute. 

When he opens them, he’s on the floor of the stockroom. 

“Connor,” says a familiar voice, sounding scared. “Connor, holy fuck.”

“Evan?” Connor mumbles, looking around, vision still blurry. He’s shaking. He’s cold. 

Jax looks at him, their hazel eyes wide and scared. “It’s Jax,” they say, their voice thin and scared. “What happened? Are you okay?”

“Evan was here,” Connor says weakly, trying to sit up and failing miserably. “I saw him, I swear-”

“He’s not,” Jax interrupts, something hard in their voice. “He’s not, Connor. He… he left. Remember?”

Right. 

Of course. 

Of course, it wasn’t real, that…

That makes sense. 

“Right,” says Connor, his voice distant. He tries to smile at Jax. “Sorry, I-”

“How many fingers am I holding up?”

“Three.”

“Do we need to call an ambulance?” asks another voice. Connor looks over to see Maureen, her face pale. “Connor? Are you okay?”

“I must have fainted,” he says, trying again to sit up, this time with more success. “I… I’m okay, I was just… confused for a minute.”

“Have you eaten?” Jax asks, something pointed in their tone. Connor shrugs. They look at Maureen. “Can you go get him something? Something high in iron.”

“You don’t need to-”

“We do,” Jax says, looking straight at Connor, their eyes blazing. “We’ve got you. We’re looking after you. We’re not going anywhere on you, Connor.”

Connor blinks a few more times. 

Wipes his face. 

It felt real. 

It had felt so fucking real. 

* * *

Evan realized he had been staring off into space for a while. He shook his head, blinking a few times. It was late… and he had missed his subway stop. Fucking hell. 

He had to stop doing this. 

He had to. 

Evan got off the train. The one heading back toward his apartment wouldn’t arrive for another thirty minutes… So Evan walked. 

It was starting to get colder now. He shivered as he walked. He stopped in a liquor store on the way home, buying a cheap bottle of whisky in a brown paper bag, and he drank and smoked as he walked, getting pleasantly buzzed and not worrying so much about his tendency to space out on the train home lately. 

As he got about ten blocks from his apartment, the sound of a guitar melody floated to him over the sounds of the city, over the sound of his cigarette burning down to the filter, over the sound of the whisky sloshing around in his bottle. Evan thought he recognized the song somehow.

Otis. 

Evan had gone looking for him, after Charlie. He had gone looking for him, but he never managed to find him anywhere. He had been worried after everything Charlie had said about him, how he nearly decked Otis…

Evan hurried across the street, toward the sound, toward the music. He found him sitting under a streetlight. Otis was playing but as Evan got closer he could tell he was coughing, he was coughing a lot. Fuck. 

“Otis?” Evan said, approaching carefully. 

The music stopped abruptly. “Please don’t.”

Evan froze. 

“Don’t,” Otis repeated, his voice rough. “Please. Please please…” 

“I’m sorry,” Evan said, backing away carefully. “I… I’m really sorry.”

Otis gulped. “Sorry it just. If you get too close I… it hurts. It gets so loud. So loud.”

Evan didn’t know what the fuck that meant. He didn’t know what to do. All he knew was that he was hurting Otis, he was always hurting somebody, and it was horrible. “I’m sorry,” he said gently. “I am so sorry. Whatever I did…”

Otis blinked at him, owlishly, his face set in a frown. “Can’t you feel it?” He asked, his voice urgent. “Can’t you… You have to.”

Evan swallowed hard. “Feel what?”

“The cracks. They keep getting bigger and bigger and soon we might all fall through.”

Evan clenched his fist tighter around the neck of the whisky bottle. “What can I do? How can… how can I fix this?”

Otis looked down at his guitar. “I don’t know. I don’t know I don’t know. It’s all wrong and mixed up and… Last week you were happy, this week you’re miserable and the cracks just keep growing and growing. Here today, gone tomorrow, the carousel never stops it never stops, not even if you fall off.” He shook his head pitifully. “It wasn’t supposed to be like this. It wasn’t.”

“Can I do something?” Evan asked. “To help… I.”

“You broke it.”

“What? What did I break?” Evan asked, desperate to understand. 

“Your heart. His.” He shook his head. “The fractures. They reverberate out. There’s damage… so much damage.” 

Evan stared, his heart in his throat. 

“Scar tissue is tougher,” Otis said simply. “You have to work harder with it.”

“What do I do then?” Evan asked. “What can I do?”

Otis got to his feet. “Hold on.”

“What?” Evan asked, not sure he understood. 

“You have to hold on,” Otis said. He started to walk away. 

“Wait can I… can I at least buy you dinner or-or-”

Otis turned around suddenly, fast, his face tight with pain. He reached out and shoved Evan, hard, pushing him to the ground. “No.” His eyes were glistening with unshed tears. “You get to be in the right place and-and it wasn’t supposed to be like this…  _ You _ have to hold on.”


	82. EIGHTY-ONE

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> “I can feel it. Reality is screaming."

Connor’s always cold these days, but everyone else seems to agree that it’s getting colder, and quickly. Leslie gets sick and has to take a few days off, and Connor finds himself covering all her shifts, despite Maureen and Jax’s protests that he shouldn’t be pushing himself. 

“The last thing we need is for you to get Leslie’s cold because you’re run down,” says Maureen, frowning as they open up together on a Friday morning he usually wouldn’t be there. “You’re still recovering, you’re still…”

“You don't have to worry about me,” Connor says, gently, because Maureen is a sweet kid and she’s genuinely worried, and he still can’t get the image of her speaking at his funeral out of his head. “I’m okay, Maureen.”

She looks at him and shakes her head. “You’re still too thin,” she says, then kind of stops and laughs a little to herself. 

“What?”

“Sorry, it’s just that… I sounded exactly like my mom just then?” She laughs again, and it’s kind of sad. “It’s a… weird thing to think about.”

Connor puts his hand on her shoulder. Squeezes it lightly. “I promise that if it gets too much, I’ll let you and Jax know,” he says soothingly. “I don’t want to get sick ever again if I can help it. But I promise I’m fine.”

Maureen doesn’t look convinced, but she relents, and they get on with the day. 

It’s busy and Connor kind of likes it, likes being able to keep his mind occupied, likes talking to customers and recommend Christmas gifts and hear stories about holiday plans. Edgar is, as usual, perched on his shoulder, utterly charming the customers, and there are a few regulars who comment that he’s looking better all the time, looking healthier, and that’s… not nothing. 

He knows he was basically a walking skeleton for months and still kind of is, so for people to be seeing improvement…

That’s something. 

Maureen comes back from her lunch break and Connor can tell something’s wrong immediately. He doesn’t want to pry, so he waits until there’s a lull in the customers and quietly pulls her aside. 

“What’s wrong?”

She lets out this wet, sad laugh. “It’s… I’m being stupid, it’s nothing.”

“Maureen. Come on.”

She looks at him with sad brown eyes. “It’s just…” Her shoulders sag. “Did you ever see that guy who plays the guitar around sometimes? He busks in the neighborhood, kind of all around the place. His name is Otis.”

Connor feels this weird buzzing in the air. “I know Otis,” he says, trying to keep his tone neutral. 

“I saw him in the summer,” she says, “working at a bodega nearby? It was, like, a terrible shift, but he was working and he seemed good, you know? Like he was doing okay, and it made me really happy because being homeless in New York is…” 

Maureen shudders and there’s this haunted look on her face that breaks Connor’s heart. 

“I can imagine,” says Connor quietly. “Is he… still working at the bodega?”

Maureen shakes her head. “He’s back on the streets. I saw him on my lunch break. He told me that my hair was the wrong color, that it’s supposed to be lavender now. He...” She looks confused and devastated at this. “He told me to ask them if they could keep their heartbreak down, because it’s too loud for him. It makes it hard to concentrate.” She shakes her head. “I don’t know what that means, I have no idea, I just… I hate it? I hate that he’s back there, back on the streets, and he’s clearly not well, and it’s so cold? The shelters are full this time of year, there are so many people, you can’t always find a bed so you’ve gotta sleep rough, and he doesn’t like the shelters because he’s afraid someone will steal his guitar, so…” She wipes her eyes. “I’m sorry, I’m sorry, this isn’t your problem, this isn’t… I just… I just hate it.”

“Where is he?” Connor asks. “When you last saw him, where was he?”

“Outside that diner three blocks down,” says Maureen, looking at Connor, her eyes wide and confused. “Not Pete’s Diner, the other one.”

“Okay,” says Connor, an idea forming in his mind. “I’ll just be a minute.”

A potentially stupid, maybe even dangerous idea. 

He takes Edgar off his shoulder gingerly, then hands him to Maureen. Then he goes upstairs, grabs a jacket, a hat, a scarf and gloves, then heads back to the store. Maureen’s eyes widen at the sight of him.

“Hold down the fort,” he says. “I’ll be back soon.”

With that, he heads out into the cold. 

It’s fucking freezing, so he walks as fast as he dares, not wanting to slip on the icy ground. He feels like he should be wearing at least four more layers, but then again, he always feels like that these days. 

He hasn’t been warm since before the coma. 

He hasn’t been warm since he and Evan were…

Since they were together and happy. 

Fuck, he hopes that Evan’s keeping warm. He hopes that he’s looking after himself, remembering to eat, taking his medication. Not drinking too much. Maybe Connor should try again, maybe he should go to Evan’s apartment tonight, camp out and see if he’ll talk to him this time, if Connor could just talk to him, just see that he’s okay…

_ Nope, _ he tells himself firmly.  _ You keep going down that road and you’ll destroy yourself. You’ll destroy what’s left of your heart.  _

Then again, he thinks to himself, does that even matter? 

Whatever’s left of his heart belongs to Evan anyway. 

It always will. 

Connor hears the sound of a guitar being played, and it’s strange and discordant, but still beautiful. He looks over to outside the diner and there’s Otis, and he’s in the boots Connor and Evan bought him last winter, and at least they look like they’ve stood the test of time, but his jacket is too thin, it’s not the one they bought him, he’s not warm enough, he looks cold, and his voice is scratchy and rough, not like it usually sounds. 

Otis is sick, Connor can tell from across the fucking street. 

He looks both ways, then carefully crosses and heads toward him. 

Otis looks at him and keeps playing, finishes the song, then looks at Connor, blinking a few times. 

“I’m sorry I punched you in the face,” he says forlornly. “I’m really fucking sorry. I just knew that I had to?”

Otis punched him the face in a dream. 

A weirdly realistic dream.

That’s…

“Come inside with me,” Connor says, gesturing to the diner. “I’ll buy you some soup.”

Otis stares at him. 

Looks horribly sad. 

Then nods, slings his guitar over his back, picks up the meagre amount of change he’s managed to scrounge up from passers-by and lets Connor lead him into the diner. 

The host looks suspicious, like he’s about to ask them to leave, so Connor pulls out his wallet immediately to show that he can pay. “Table for two, please? Somewhere warm.”

The host ushers them to near the back of the diner, near the kitchen, where it is indeed much warmer than outside, and smells good. The waitress gives them some menus and Otis just stares at the table, looking utterly overwhelmed. 

“What do you like?” Connor asks gently, and Otis’s eyes just widen, like this is all too much. Connor tries another tactic. “Is it okay if I order for us?”

Otis looks at Connor and his eyes well up. He blinks. Nods. “Yeah. Yeah, thank you.”

Connor orders chicken soup and garlic bread and toasted cheese and hot chocolate for both of them, and soon there’s a pile of food. Otis hesitates at first, but then he digs in, eating like he hasn’t seen food in weeks, and Connor’s hungry, too, and the soup helps warm him through, helps warm up some of his ice water veins, helps with the cold that he carries with him everywhere. 

That he’s carried with him ever since he came back. 

“When I last saw you,” Connor says once they’ve both eaten, his voice careful. “You said you thought you were doing better.”

Otis blinks. Nods. “Yeah. Yeah, I… I thought I was.” He lets out this sad laugh. “I… I got a job, I got a place to stay, I got my meds sorted out and then all of a sudden, it just… it stopped? All of it stopped, and I was normal again. For three weeks this summer, I was normal.” His shoulders sag. “And then it all started back up and it… I couldn’t handle it. I lost my job, I couldn’t afford my meds, I… I got kicked out of the place I was staying and now I’m… it’s back to what it was.” 

“Three weeks in summer?” Connor asks, trying to make sense of what Otis is telling him. “When, do you remember?”

“Mid June, early July,” Otis says immediately. He smiles, just a little. “I saw your guy around then. When things were good? When it stopped? I wanted to… to thank him. And you. The backpack and the clothes and… it helped, you know? It helped me get on my feet.” Otis’s face falls. “I fucked it up, I fucked it all up, I’m really fucking sorry man. I know how much you’re hurting, how much you’re both hurting and… I couldn’t even keep my shit together when you were kind to me.”

Connor blinks. “You saw Evan?”

“His name is Evan?” Otis asks, curious. “I… I see you and him all the time, in so many places, all across time and I didn’t know his name. I didn’t know yours until I saw it at your funeral.”

Connor feels his eyes fill with tears. “He left. He left me.”

“I know,” Otis says sadly. “I can feel it. Reality is screaming. It… it wasn’t supposed to be like this. Something went wrong, and it… it wasn’t supposed to be like this.”

The waitress comes over and asks if they want anything else. Otis fumbles in his pockets for money, but Connor refuses to let him pay. 

They leave the diner and Otis looks at him, his expression grateful. 

“Thank you,” he says. “I… that was kind.”

“I have a spare room,” Connor says. “I want you to stay with me for a while.”

Otis just stares at him. “You’re kidding.”

Connor shakes his head. “I’m not kidding, man.”

“I can’t do that.”

“Why not?”

Otis hesitates. “You don’t know me. We don’t… we don’t know each other. Not really.”

“Not here,” Connor says, not a hundred percent sure what he’s saying but knowing it’s true. “But maybe somewhere, we do.” Otis doesn’t look convinced. “Otis. I want to help you.”

Otis shakes his head. “That’s not your job.”

“No,” Connor admits. “But I… I need to help someone. And it’s fucking freezing out here, so can you just… even if it’s just one night, can you just come back and crash at mine so I know you’re not sleeping on the streets?”

Otis hesitates again. 

Looks at the sky. 

“What am I supposed to do?” Otis asks. 

It doesn’t look like he’s expecting an answer. 

Or maybe he is. 

Connor doesn’t know. 

What he does know is that after a moment, Otis nods and follows Connor through the freezing streets to The Little Book Nook. 

Maureen looks genuinely shocked when Connor and Otis walk into the bookstore. 

Genuinely, mouth-hanging open shocked. 

“Otis is going to stay with me for a while,” Connor announces. “I’m just going to get him settled upstairs, I’ll be right back, okay?”

Maureen just nods, and Otis looks around the store, this strange expression on his face. 

“So this is the inside,” he says, in this soft tone that makes it clear he’s talking to himself. 

Connor gestures for Otis to follow him and leads him to the apartment. He turns on the heating, nice and high so it’ll warm the whole apartment up fast, and shows Otis the spare room. 

Jax had helped Connor move the dresser he and Evan picked out from Connor’s room to the spare room after he got back from his stay back home, and while Connor hated it at the time, he’s grateful for it now, because it means Otis has a place to keep his things. The bed’s comfortable, several guests have told Connor, and Martha’s blanket is on it, which makes Connor stop for a moment. 

He’d moved the blanket into the spare room after Evan left. 

It hadn’t felt right to have the blanket on the bed without him. Because Martha made it for them. For their future. 

A future they don’t have. 

“You okay, man?” Otis asks softly, and Connor nods hurriedly, wiping his eyes absently. He hadn’t realized he’d teared up. 

“I’m okay,” Connor says flatly. “Don’t worry about it. Let me show you the rest of the place.”

With that, he gives Otis the tour. Shows him the bathroom, the kitchen, the living room. Gives him the WiFi password so Otis can connect on his off-brand smartphone, which Otis admits he hasn’t been able to charge up in weeks. 

While Otis is sorting out his phone, Connor grabs one of the meal prep bags from his freezer and puts the contents in the slow cooker, making sure to turn it on. “So that’ll be dinner,” he says to Otis matter-of-factly. “It should be done by eight, which is when I finish work tonight. There are a fuckton of books in the bookshelf in the living room, and there are more in my room, and in the spare room, or there’s, you know, television. It’s all signed into, like, Netflix or… whatever other things I have, I don’t know.”

He genuinely doesn’t. He barely watches TV these days. 

Fuck, Connor’s pretty sure he’s still signed in on Evan’s Hulu account. 

He should probably sort that out. 

Otis’s eyes are big and he looks even more overwhelmed than he had in the diner, but he nods. “Eight. Okay. I can… is it okay if I shower?”

Connor should have thought of that. He’s a fucking idiot. “Yeah, of course, let me get you a towel, shit, sorry.” He gets a spare towel, one of the huge big fluffy ones his mom bought him when he moved in, and a face cloth, and hands them to Otis. “Do you… do you have a clean change of clothes?”

Otis looks embarrassed. “I haven’t been able to afford to get to a laundromat, so…”

“I’ll lend you something,” says Connor decisively, and heads to his room to grab clothes. Warm clothes. Soft, warm, comfortable things, things his mom filled his drawers with when he first woke up from the coma, when he was far too thin and cold all the time and he just wore layers and layers and layers, even though it was still the middle of summer. 

When he hands Otis the clothes, Otis’s cheeks are burning with embarrassment. “This is… this is too much,” he says, and he tries to hand the clothes back to Connor, but he won’t hear of it. 

“Please,” Connor says softly. “Please let me help you? I swear, it would really, really help me if you could just… let me do this.”

Otis’s eyes fill with tears. He looks down at the clothes in his hands and scrunches up his face, and Connor watches as big fat teardrops land on the sweater. 

Then Otis nods, takes a deep breath, and heads into the bathroom, closing the door with a soft click. 

When Connor gets back downstairs, the store is empty. Maureen takes one look at him, then heads to the front door, turns around the ‘Back In 10 Minutes’ sign, locks the door and bursts into tears. 

“Hey hey hey, Maureen,” says Connor, completely alarmed, pulling her into the staffroom for a bit of privacy and sitting her down. “What’s going on, are you okay?”

“You just…” She looks at him, tears streaming down her face. “You have no idea how much it means that you would do what you just did. No idea.”

“I know him,” Connor says, trying to make this make sense. “I… I had to help.”

“Winter in this city is so hard,” Maureen sobs, just openly sobbing now. “So damn hard, and there’s not enough space, there’s not enough, and you have to do things you don’t want to just to survive, just so you’ve got somewhere warm to sleep, and I…”

It all falls into place for Connor in a horrifying realization. 

“Maureen,” he says, trying to keep his voice soft, gentle. “Were you homeless?”

Maureen cries hard and nods. “I was seventeen,” she manages to choke out. “I was… homeless for a few years? Three winters. I… nearly… I had to…” She shakes her head, almost angrily. “I can’t… can’t talk about it, I’m sorry, I just can’t.”

“You don’t need to tell me anything you don’t want to,” Connor says immediately. It’s starting to make sense. Of course seeing Otis end up back on the streets would hurt. He thinks about having helped her move into her shitty apartment and how horrified he’d been by the mould and the general terribleness of it, but how she hadn’t cared at all. 

Of course she hadn’t cared, it was a roof over her head. 

Fuck. 

Seventeen. 

Connor remembers being seventeen. 

Remembers Evan at seventeen. 

They were… fuck, they were messes, and everything was awful, but they had a fucking roof over their heads. 

Their parents weren’t perfect, but they didn’t kick them out and leave them to fend for themselves. 

Fuck. 

“Sorry,” Maureen says, and she’s clearly trying to stop crying, taking in these great big gulping gasps, like she’s trying to calm herself down but all it’s doing is making it worse. “I’m sorry.”

Connor pulls her into a tight hug, as tight as he can manage, and rubs her back until her sobs subside, trying to hold in his horror, his sorrow, his anger, because this is someone who is suffering and she shouldn’t have to deal with his emotions about her pain. 

Eventually, she stops crying and pulls away, wiping her face. She looks exhausted, completely wrung out, and Connor’s heart aches for her. 

There’s nothing he can do to take her pain away. 

But he won’t let what happened to her happen again. 

Not ever.

“I want to say something,” Connor says, making sure his voice has the gravity it needs. “And I want you to listen to this very carefully, okay?” Maureen nods, and he continues. “If anything  _ ever _ happens to you and you’re at risk of ending up homeless again, you tell me. I don’t care if it’s years from now and I’m not your boss anymore. You will always have a home here. I will  _ always _ make a place for you. And I will do whatever I can to help you get back on your feet, no matter what happens. Okay? It’s not going to be like what happened to Otis for you. It’s not. I won’t let it.” He tries to smile. “And you know how stubborn I am. I survived a coma, for fuck’s sake. I kicked a coma’s ass.”

Maureen lets out this half-laugh, half-sob. 

“Thank you,” she says, her voice barely above a whisper. “Just… thank you.”

Connor gives her another hug, and she cries a little more, and all Connor can hear in the back of his mind is another version of his friend, standing in front of his coffin, reading Emily Dickinson. 

_ “Hope” is the thing with feathers - _

_ That perches in the soul - _

_ And sings the tune without the words - _

_ And never stops - at all - _


	83. EIGHTY-TWO

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> “It’s better to be alone than to suffer through a bad collision.”

Connor hasn’t had a roommate since Andi, and that was nearly two years ago. 

Or a few months ago, depending on how you look at it. 

At any rate, it’s been a long time since he’s lived with someone who wasn’t Andi, and it takes a while to get used to living with someone who is essentially a stranger. 

A damaged stranger. 

Otis wakes up screaming the first night he stays in Connor’s apartment and it scares the living shit out of him. Edgar meows frantically, pulling at Connor’s pajamas until he gets out of bed and heads to the spare room to check in. 

He finds Otis curled up in the corner, rocking back and forth and sobbing. 

The bed is made, untouched, like he couldn’t bring himself to sleep in it. 

It breaks Connor’s heart. 

“Hey,” he says gently, turning on the light and walking into the room cautiously. “Hey, can I… can I do anything?”

Otis looks at him, face pale, and he winces. “Fuck, sorry man, I… I can go-”

“You’re not going anywhere,” Connor says firmly. 

He sits down next to Otis. Just sits. 

Edgar climbs up Connor’s body and perches on his shoulder, the shoulder closest to Otis, looking at him intently. After a moment, he jumps and lands on Otis’s lap. 

Otis looks a little alarmed to see this little black and white bundle curling up in his arms, but he starts petting him almost immediately, like it’s an automatic response. Edgar purrs contentedly, rubbing his nose against Otis’s arm, and Connor watches as the man visibly relaxes. 

It’s quiet. 

Still. 

“What’s your cat’s name?” Otis asks, his voice rough. 

“Edgar Allan Paw.”

Otis lets out this small chuckle. “Good name.”

“He’s a good cat,” Connor says with a smile. “He… he’s helped me through some rough shit.”

Otis looks at Connor with this strange, intense look. “He needed someone to take care of him. So did you. So you took care of each other.” 

Connor doesn’t flinch. Doesn’t break eye contact. “Yes,” he says simply. “Exactly.”

“For such a long time, you thought it was easier to be alone.”

There’s something strange and electric in the air, a buzzing. Connor feels like he’s taken a bite into aluminum foil. 

He refuses to break eye contact. 

“I did,” he says quietly. “Sometimes I still do.”

“Sometimes it is,” Otis says, and there’s a haunted look on his face. “It’s better to be alone than to suffer through a bad collision.”

Connor doesn’t know what to say. He just looks at Otis. 

“They ripped each other open,” Otis says, in this awful, pained voice. “They tore each other apart. I tried to stop it. I tried to warn him, but he wouldn’t listen. He  _ can’t _ listen right now. It’s all wrong. It isn’t supposed to be like this.”

“Warn who?” Connor asks, his voice barely above a whisper. “Who did you warn, Otis?”

Otis gives him this crooked smile. “He broke your heart. But he broke his first.”

Connor feels cold. 

Cold, all the way through him. 

“Who are you?” Connor asks gently. “How do you know these things?”

Otis blinks a few times. His eyes well up with tears. 

“I’m so tired,” he says. “I’m just… I’m so tired.”

“I know,” Connor says, in that same gentle tone. 

They sit there for a long while, Edgar purring in Otis’s lap. Otis keeps petting him, over and over, this repetitive movement that’s soothing, calming. 

“You know, you can use the bed,” Connor says to Otis. “It’s for sleeping in.”

Otis shakes his head. “I don’t… I shouldn’t.”

“I’d really like it if you did,” Connor tries. 

“It… it doesn’t feel right,” Otis says, frowning like he’s trying to explain. “I don’t… it doesn’t feel right when I’m not there. When I’m not with…”

He trails off, blinking away tears, not looking at Connor. 

After a moment, Connor stands up. Edgar meows, then jumps off Otis’s lap and climbs back up Connor, settling on his shoulder protectively. 

Otis smiles. “A sentry,” he says, his voice soft. “To watch over you.”

Connor feels like crying. 

He doesn’t. 

“Please use the bed?” he asks instead, and Otis nods, and Connor heads back to bed. 

* * *

It was an exceedingly stupid day. Like unbelievably stupid. Richard was on his ass about something Evan was pretty sure he had already finished and submitted, and Chelsea was hovering around him because it was the end of her semester and she was trying to eek out the most brownie points possible for her letter of recommendation, and Evan had had a headache for like a week and a half. 

He texted Alex about it. He hadn’t actually seen much of her since Thanksgiving, just passing each other sometimes in the halls. She was talking about visiting Mattie’s family again for Christmas last he’d heard. 

Apparently his text came across a little too panicked to be seen as sensible. 

_ “Dude, you need to get your eyes checked before you decide you have a brain tumor.” _

She had a fair point. 

Which annoyed him. 

So Evan scheduled an appointment with an eye doctor and put it out of his mind. 

He was annoyed to discover that, apparently, he couldn’t see distance well at all. The optometrist commented that he had been squinting and straining his eyes automatically, and set him up with a prescription for glasses. 

Fucking glasses. 

Evan stared sort of helplessly at the walls and walls of frames he could choose from. He didn’t know why but the idea of needing glasses really bothered him. It felt like… admitting defeat. That he had kept himself going without help for this long and suddenly he needed something external. Something visible and obvious and… 

He had no idea what sort of glasses would look alright on him. Evan had never worn glasses. The assistant in the office started to follow him around, commenting here and there with suggestions. 

“Sorry,” Evan mumbled, frowning a little. “I… I’ve never worn glasses. I… I’m not sure where to start.”

She grinned at him. “Gotcha.” She tilted her head, sizing him up a little. “Hmm… I don’t think you’re looking for anything particularly whimsical.”

Evan smiled slightly. “Yeah, I’m a lawyer? So ideally something… Fairly professional looking?”

She smiled widely. “Okay. That we can do.” She started browsing the shelves, nodding to herself and grabbed a few pairs of frames out of their holders, bringing them over for him to try on. He hated the first pair. They were too square and too dark and he hated them. 

Billie, the tech helping him, agreed. “Those make you look old.”

She whisked them away, handing him a different pair. 

They went through four pairs, each seeming to get worse and worse. 

“Ah, hang on, I think I’ve got it,” She said, smiling triumphantly. “These,” She said, handing him a pair of navy frames which were round at the bottom. Evan put them on apprehensively, but when he looked at his reflection he realized they did… suit him. 

They looked okay. 

“What do you think? I like those on you,” Billie said. 

“Yeah, I think I like them.”

She gave him a very calculated smile. “Want to send a picture to your girlfriend? See what she thinks?”

Evan caught himself smiling slightly. “I don’t have a girlfriend,” He said back, voice quiet. 

“Oh really?” She smiled. “Let’s go get you taken care of… and my shift ends in half an hour. If you. Wanted to get a drink.”

“Yeah?”

She processed Evan’s intensely generous insurance plan, which meant he got the frames for free. Billie smiled slyly at him as she handed the card back. “Evan… that’s a good name.”

Evan smiled at her. “Thanks.” 

“Meet me at the bar around the corner? You can’t miss it, it’s got a massive neon martini outside.”

“Sounds good,” Evan said smirking at her. 

He went to the bar and ordered himself a drink. Billie was pretty. Soft and curvy with short-cropped dark hair. She’d been wearing these adorable cat-eye glasses. Forward, which Evan appreciated. 

He finished his whisky and considered. 

Maybe… maybe he could be alright. 

He could take better care of himself. Get glasses. Watched how much he was working a little bit more carefully. It wasn’t so hard to get back into the swing of it. Girls still thought he was cute enough to hit on at the eye doctor. Maybe he could… he could just do this. 

Be a real person again. Stop being so… pathetic and wounded and sad all the time. 

So things with Connor hadn’t worked out. It didn’t mean Evan had to… give up completely. Right?

Right?

Billie joined him in half an hour, as promised. She let Evan buy her a drink and they got to chatting. She was in the process of finishing her degree in speech pathology, which Evan thought was delightfully ironic since she worked for an eye doctor. She asked how he liked being a lawyer, and Evan told her that he was weird and prefered that parts that most lawyers found boring, like contracts. She smiled and laughed and put his hand on his knee while they talked. 

Maybe Evan could do this. Be normal. Maybe he had just needed to get all of his weirdness out of the way with Connor. Maybe he wasn’t irreparably broken. Maybe he could be just… fine. 

“Do you want to get out of here?” Billie asked Evan after a few drinks. “I don’t live far.”

Evan agreed. They walked briskly, the air cold and their breath mingling as they breathed. Evan wasn’t that much taller than her and he found that he liked that. 

When they paused outside of her door, Billie turned to Evan and smiled this lovely smile that made her eyes crinkle and her cheeks round and lovely, and she wrapped Evan by the tie and pulled him in for a kiss. 

Evan froze. 

“Too much?” She asked. 

“No,” Evan said, trying to snap himself out of it, leaning down to kiss her again, properly this time. She tasted sweet and citrusy, like the drink she had been drinking, and when she all but dragged him inside Evan went along willingly. 

He wanted to prove to himself that he could do this. He could do this. Be normal. Maybe this was something, maybe Billie was someone. 

She tugged at Evan’s hips while they kissed in her living room… bedroom. It was cozy but warm and inviting studio. Evan kissed Billie’s neck while she unknotted his tie. He unzipped her dress while she unbuttoned his shirt. They parted to undress. 

She was lovely. Pretty and curvy and… wonderful. 

And Evan… felt nothing. 

His body reacted to her… But inside he felt blank. 

Almost bored.

She was naked and spread out for him and saying something about a condom, and Evan nodded, agreed, found one in a drawer of her dresser. 

Billie was pretty and her dark skin was extremely soft under his hands. She gasped and moaned at his touches, and then climbed on top of him when they had sex, taking control and Evan let her, trying to focus, to stay present, be there. 

But mostly he just… missed Connor. 

Realized that. He couldn’t do this. Sex, sure, but the flirting and the potential for hanging out in the future? It made his heart squeeze painfully. 

Evan had thought he was done. He had thought he’d found his person, he thought with Connor that everything would come together, fall into place. It hadn’t. It had all fallen apart and every new person Evan tried to use to put Connor behind him just made him miss Connor more. 

Billie wanted to cuddle when they were finished and Evan smiled awkwardly and said, “Honestly I kind of hate cuddling. Sorry.” 

He gave her his number with no intention of texting her back if she reached out. 

He left her apartment and took the train back toward his place. He stopped at a bar on his way back, and Evan decided he needed to… get drunk. Get very drunk. Try to stop thinking about how much he missed Connor. Missed the way he smelled and laughed, the way he kissed and the way he would wrap around Evan like Evan was important. 

...The way he looked when he cried. 

The way he looked when he’d first gotten home from the hospital. When he was frail and breakable and incapable of taking care of himself. 

The way he looked when he was lying to Evan. How he went pale, how he shook and frowned and cried. How ragged his voice had been when he apologized when he swore that there was something still fixable between the two of them… 

Evan drank until the bartender cut him off. Until his head was swimming. 

Until he couldn’t conjure up the image of Connor’s face clearly in his mind, until he could swallow and not imagine Connor’s lips on his throat. 

He smoked while he walked home. Languidly, then anxiously. 

Evan looked around the streets, his heart pounding hard. It was so cold out tonight. So cold. Almost dangerously cold… 

Was Otis alright? Evan hadn’t seen him around in a while. In weeks in fact. 

He hoped Otis was okay. 

...Though if he wasn’t and he told Evan, it wasn’t like Evan could do much. 

Evan wasn’t okay. 

He had this buzzy, television show and dial-up internet feeling at the back of his mind. He hated it and he wanted another drink. Evan wasn’t… wasn’t sure what was real, as he walked. He wasn’t sure if he was real. 

He was real… wasn’t he?

He couldn’t be totally sure. 

He took a deep breath, trying to stay calm. 

Thought back to the things that he knew. 

He was twenty-nine. 

He was a lawyer. 

He lived in New York. 

...Evan had broken up with Connor. 

He’d broken up with Connor. 

Connor… might not have been real either. 

He just needed to be sure. 

Evan took another drag of his cigarette, exhaling shakily. Then he pulled up the sleeve of his jacket, of his suit and his shirt, and he pressed the cherry of the cigarette, bright and red and burning, into the flesh of his arm. 

He gasped. It hurt. 

He’d done it before he’d done it in the past, but now he was sure he was real, he was real. 

A few days later, the eye doctor’s office called. His new glasses had arrived. Evan picked them up on his lunch break and was grateful that Billie wasn’t in that day. 


	84. EIGHTY-THREE

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> "You just see me as this broken helpless… thing."

Connor doesn’t realize he hasn’t told his sister that he has a new roommate until he hears a high-pitched scream from the kitchen. He rushes out of his room to find Zoe standing in the doorway of his apartment, holding her phone like she’s about to dial 911, and Otis standing by the fridge looking absolutely terrified. 

“Connor, what the fuck why is this guy in your apartment what the fuck?”

“Zoe,” Connor says, as calmly as he can. “This is Otis, he’s staying with me for a while.”

Zoe looks completely bewildered. 

“I’m sorry I’m sorry I’m sorry I’m sorry,” Otis keeps repeating, hugging the wall by the fridge, clearly near tears. “I’m sorry I’m sorry I’m sorry I’m sorry.”

“Hey,” Connor says, heading to Otis, trying to keep his voice calm. “Otis, it’s okay. This is my sister Zoe, I’m sure she didn’t mean to scare you.”

“I’m sorry I’m sorry I’m sorry I’m sorry,” Otis says, and he’s hunched in on himself, trying to make himself disappear, and Connor hates it. 

“You’re okay,” Connor says gently, and he guides Otis to sit down on the floor. Edgar climbs into his lap and Otis immediately starts to pet the cat. 

Connor looks up to see Zoe staring, her eyes wide and terrified. 

Once he finally gets Otis calmed down, Connor tells him quietly he’ll just be a moment, then takes his sister into his room to talk privately. 

“What the actual fuck is going on?” Zoe hisses. “Who is that guy? Why is he staying with you?” Her eyes widen. “Are you sleeping with him?”

“I’m not sleeping with him!” Connor blurts out. 

Zoe doesn’t look any less confused. “Then why is he here?”

“He’s homeless,” Connor says, figuring there’s very little point in bullshitting right now. “I’ve met him a bunch of times over the last few years and tried to look out for him. Evan and I gave him some clothes last winter to try and help him get on his feet. He’s just… he’s having a hard time right now, and it’s so fucking cold outside, I couldn’t just let him sleep on the streets.”

Zoe looks at him, eyes blazing. “Connor,” she says, her voice deliberately even. “There are places people can stay when they’re down on their luck like this. Places that aren’t your apartment.”

Connor shakes his head. “He’s not well, Zo, he’s got mental health problems and the homeless shelters… they’re full this time of year, they’re not always safe and he could… he could die if he stays out on the street right now!”

“He is not your responsibility!” Zoe says, her voice quiet but urgent. “Connor, you are in no shape to be looking after a mentally ill homeless person, you can barely...”

She trails off, looking away. 

“I can barely look after myself,” Connor says dully. “That’s what you were going to say, right? It doesn’t… it doesn’t matter that I’ve worked hard, that I’ve… that I’ve fought  _ really _ hard to get my life back after the coma, after Evan. None of that matters, you just see me as this broken helpless… thing who can’t-”

“That’s not what I meant!” Zoe interrupts, her cheeks flushing. “I just don’t want to see you get hurt.”

Connor just looks at her for a moment. “If I get hurt, I get hurt,” he says, his voice firm. “Zoe, I have been through hell these past few months. I have been through  _ hell _ and I’m still standing, I made it through. If there is  _ anything _ I can do to help someone else who’s still going through it, I have to do it. I have to. Otherwise… what the fuck was the point? Of any of it?”

Zoe’s eyes are dangerous glassy and Connor reaches out and grabs her hand. “Please trust me,” he says quietly. “Please trust me on this, okay?”

Zoe bites her lip. Nods. “I’m not letting you do this alone,” she says fiercely. 

Connor smiles. “That’s okay, Zo. I can live with that.”

* * *

The weather turned frigid and bitter cold. Evan kept putting in more and more hours at work, ignoring all of the Christmas lights going up around the city, ignoring the festive atmosphere that was being created all around him. 

He fucking hated Christmas. Fucking gentiles and their stupid bogarting all of winter. 

He finally went home when the cleaners showed up in his office on a Thursday evening, thinking it was probably bad form to keep getting caught working too late. He figured he could do more work at home… 

Or maybe he needed a drink. 

Evan decided that, yes, a drink was absolutely in order. He took the subway back to his neighborhood and went to the shitty dive by the bad bodega that he had gone to with Charlie. Evan kept hoping he might run into Otis again on his way home. He was worried, as it was getting colder, that Otis might be cold. That he might not be okay in these freezing temperatures. He and Connor should have done more for him last February. They shouldn’t have settled for just getting him some socks and boots. 

Fuck. 

He was such a fucking asshole. 

Evan checked his phone after he had been at the bar for about forty minutes, half chatting with the bartender who had three visible gold teeth. 

Sabrina had texted him.  _ “Where are you? I’ve been calling for three days.” _

Evan frowned and texted back the address of the bar. He knew she would be on her way before long, because this was what Sabrina did. She would show up. She always showed up. It was what she did with him. 

Evan’s suspicion was confirmed when barely thirty minutes later, Sabrina appeared in the doorway in her bright yellow jacket, wearing a sky blue hat and matching scarf. She swept Evan into a tight hug when she saw him, and Evan felt a little like he was suffocating with her arms around him. 

“You look like shit, Ev,” Sabrina said, frowning at him. 

He shrugged. “You look good.”

“Do I?” Sabrina returned with a frown. “Because I’m not.” She ordered a whisky coke from the bartender. 

“What’s going on?” Evan asked her. 

“Oh, well, you know, my baby marriage is fucking falling apart,” Sabrina said. 

Evan blinked. “What’s going on?”

“Graham and I are fighting,” She said miserably, looking down at her glass. “We’re always fucking fighting.”

“What about?” Evan asked her, trying to muster up some concern from somewhere inside him. It was harder than he expected. Part of him was satisfied to hear her perfect life wasn’t so perfect. 

“You,” Sabrina said matter-of-factly. 

“Oh,” Evan said, frowning. “Why?”

“You and Connor,” Sabrina said, taking a long drink. “Graham is really fucking pissed off at you for leaving.”

“Ah,” Evan said blandly. “Sorry.”

Sabrina shook her head. “It’s fucking stupid. I tried to explain that it wasn’t that simple, but Graham won’t get off his fucking high horse about how terrible you are and it’s really fucking getting on my nerves.” 

“Sorry,” Evan said, not terribly sorry at all. Whatever. So boring Graham was annoying and boring. What else was fucking new?

Sabrina slurped the rest of her drink. “I just… it pisses me off that everyone is acting like Connor is some innocent victim, you know? Like that buzzfeed article? All the comments are going on and on about how horrible it is that his boyfriend left him, even though he fucking cheated on you.”

Evan swallowed uncomfortably. “Yeah, I mean… It’s complicated.”

“It’s not complicated. Connor’s an ass.” Sabrina ordered another drink, gulping it quickly. “But Graham refuses to consider that maybe, just maybe, his precious Connor isn’t so sweet and innocent. Maybe Connor is the asshole.” 

“He’s not,” Evan said insistently. “Connor’s not -”

“And of course Graham thinks I’m lying about Connor cheating,” Sabrina said, sounding disgusted. 

Evan thought he felt his heart stop. “What?”

“Well, when I told Graham -”

“You told Graham?” Evan repeated, his stomach giving an uncomfortable lurch. “You told him?”

“He’s my husband and I was getting really sick of his ‘oh poor Connor’ bullshit I-”

“I specifically asked you not to say anything to Graham,” Evan said, his voice low, shaking. “I  _ specifically _ -”

“Oh come on, stop being such a fucking martyr,” Sabrina said. “You’re letting everyone talk shit about you and think you’re some awful monster when Connor is a fucking cheating scumbag and it clearly fucked you up. Like, I mean, look at yourself.”

Evan downed his drink. The whisky burned on the way down. “Fuck you,” he said, his face burning. “I’m fine.”

“No you’re not,” Sabrina said, her face tight and concerned. “You’re not fine. I am terrified for you.”

“Fuck you Sabrina,” Evan spat, standing up. “I am so fucking tired of you and your  _ concern.  _ Every time I see you, you’ve got some other thing that you think I’m doing wrong and I’m sick of it. I’m sick of you always meddling in my life and I obviously don’t want that from you.”

“I love you! I’m worried about you!”

“Maybe the reason your husband is so angry at you is because you’re still so obsessed with me. Maybe Graham is pissed because it’s been years and you’re obviously still not over me. And that’s fucking pathetic, Sabrina, because in case you haven’t figured it out, I don’t want you anymore.”

Sabrina’s jaw dropped open. “How fucking dare you -”

“It’s just sad, I mean, honestly. You married him. You picked this sad, boring, white guy in finance and you’re still mooning over me and I’m not your fucking boyfriend anymore Sabrina. I dumped you. If I were Graham, I would sure be pissed off that my wife was still so hung up on their ex.”

“That’s not true,” Sabrina said, her eyes glittering with tears. “You’re my best friend, Ev, you know that-”

“Oh grow up Sabrina, we both know that’s not why you’re always checking in on me -”

“Evan,” Sabrina cried, tears spilling down her round cheeks. “You know that’s… I love Graham.”

“Not as much as you love me,” Evan spat. “And I never wanted you. Not that way. Not the way you wanted me. I mean, honestly, why would I want you? You’re a sad, people-pleasing pushover who will let anyone treat you like shit as long as they don’t call you fat to your face. It’s sad, really. I mean, Graham’s only with you because he’s never had a serious relationship before. He doesn’t realize that not everyone is such a spineless coward.”

“Fuck you,” Sabrina sputtered. 

“You keep coming back to me because I’m a coward too. I never once stood up to you. And all you ever did was tell me something was wrong with me, and I let you because I’m just as fucking pathetic. But harping on about all of my flaws, Sabrina? It doesn’t make you honest, it just makes you a bitch.”

“Evan, come on -”

Evan threw some cash down on the bar. “Do me a favor. Stop fucking calling me. I don’t want to talk to you. I don’t want to see you. I want you to leave me the fuck alone.”

He left. 


	85. EIGHTY-FOUR

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> "You can’t make me go back there.”

Otis sleeps a lot at the beginning. Like he’s trying to make up for a deficit. 

He probably is. Connor can’t imagine it’s easy to get a good night’s sleep in a homeless shelter, or on the street. 

When he’s not sleeping, he looks a little lost. Like he’s not sure what’s happening, he’s not sure where he is, he doesn’t know what’s going on or what he’s supposed to be doing. 

He plays his guitar and sings quietly in the spare room sometimes. 

Connor likes listening to it. It’s incredibly beautiful. 

After nearly a week when it becomes obvious that Otis’s cough isn’t going away, that he’s really fucking unwell, Connor manages to convince him to come with him to the free clinic. 

They have to wait for a really long time. It’s extremely busy, which makes sense given that there are all sorts of colds and flu going around. Otis doesn’t seem to notice that they have to wait, or if he does, he’s entirely unbothered by it. 

He just kind of… stares into space. 

It’s unsettling. Like he’s zoned out entirely, like he’s left his body and he’s somewhere else. 

Connor hates it. It scares him. But he tries not to let on, because Otis needs help and Connor wants to be the one to help him. 

He wants to be able to help _someone._

After a while, Otis is seen by a nurse. It takes a moment for Connor to recognize Marisol, Alana Beck’s girlfriend. 

“Connor, right?” she asks with a soft smile. “You’re looking much better. It’s nice to see you’re recovering.”

“Thanks,” he says. “Say hi to Alana for me.” He gestures to Otis. “I’m with my friend here, he’s been really sick.” 

It takes a while for Otis to come back to himself, but when he does he seems shaken up, distracted, not sure where he is and more than a little scared. Marisol is very gentle with him, and the looks she keeps sending Connor make it obvious that she’s more than a little concerned. 

Because the universe hates him, when Otis finally sees a doctor, it’s Mattie. 

Of course it’s Mattie. 

She looks surprised, but happy to see him, and like Marisol, comments on how much better he’s looking. There’s something like recognition in her eyes when she sees Otis, like she’s seen him before, and she gets to work checking him out, carefully and gently. 

“You know this one,” Mattie says to Connor with a rueful smile, before turning back to Otis. “Walking pneumonia, I think. Just need to check out your lungs with a chest x-ray. Is that okay, Otis?”

Otis kind of shrugs. He looks tired and very, very sad. 

Connor feels a lump in his throat at the sight of him. 

Once they’ve done the x-ray, Mattie prescribes a course of antibiotics and goes over treatment, suggesting perhaps a sleep aid if necessary. She also tells Connor that he needs to be careful, because of how sick he was over the summer. 

“You’ve got a weakened immune system,” Mattie says bluntly. “So you’ve got to be diligent about handwashing. Make sure you’re getting enough rest. Eating enough.” 

Connor decides not to mention to Mattie the fainting spells he’s been getting because of his anemia. He’s got it under control. 

It’s not right that Evan’s roommates worry about him. 

Connor takes Otis back home and insists he go to bed before heading out to pick up his prescription. Without insurance, it’s going to be pricey, but Connor can afford it and it’s probably better Otis not see how much it costs. At the moment, Otis is just too sick to argue with Connor about things, which Connor’s going to take advantage of for as long as he can. 

When he gets back, Otis is asleep and Connor’s exhausted. 

Down to the bone tired. 

He checks on the soup he’s got simmering away in the slow cooker, puts Otis’s meds on the kitchen table, then heads into his room for a nap. 

  
  


“If I have to hear ‘All I Want For Christmas Is You’ one more time I am going to punch someone,” Evan grumbles as they leave the bodega, holding hands and moving quickly to escape from the cold. 

“Tis the season,” Connor jokes, even though he’s equally annoyed, because he just knows what Evan’s reaction is going to be. Sure enough, Evan’s face goes even pinker and he lets out this indignant little huff that’s so fucking cute and starts on a rant about how there have been Christmas songs playing in stores since before Thanksgiving and it’s terrible and why can’t everyone just chill out about Jesus?

“Jesus was Jewish,” Connor points out, and Evan just glares at him. He looks like he’s about to launch into another rant, but before he can, Connor leans in and kisses him. 

Evan kisses him back instantly, like he’d been expecting it, and Connor loves him so much. 

“I love you so much.”

Evan smiles, this soft smile. “I love you too.”

They turn the corner and Connor feels his stomach growl. “So I didn’t get a chance to put the slow cooker on today,” he says. “Wanna grab dinner at the diner where we didn’t die?”

Evan nods. “Sounds good. I’ve been thinking about fries all day? I can’t explain it.”

“No one can truly explain the allure of the humble potato,” says Connor solemnly and Evan snorts and rolls his eyes. 

They’re only a few blocks away from Pete’s Diner and it’s cold so they hurry. When they get to the diner, they get seated in their usual spot and both look at the menus, even though they’ve got them pretty much memorized by now. 

“So I’m having scrambled-”

“You’re not having scrambled fucking eggs, Connor.”

Connor grins. “I love you.”

“I love you, but I’m not letting you order eggs,” says Evan with a roll of his eyes. He points to an item on the menu. “Get a burger. Red meat. Something that’s going to give you lots of iron.”

“I was actually thinking that,” Connor admits, looking at it. He frowns. “Oh man, the cheeseburger looks really good.”

“So get the cheeseburger.”

Connor shakes his head. “But what if you want some? It’s not kosher.”

Evan looks at him with this soft, fond expression. “You don’t always need to share your food with me, Connor.”

“But I like sharing food with you,” Connor says immediately, reaching out and taking Evan’s hand. He pulls it toward him gently and kisses his knuckles. “I like sharing everything with you.”

Evan turns this gorgeous shade of pink and Connor smiles. Kisses his knuckles again then lets their joined hands come to rest on the table. 

He’s been thinking about it for months. Months and months. 

About asking Evan to move in with him. 

He’s trying to drop little hints, little suggestions, to gauge Evan’s reaction, and so far Evan seems a little oblivious, but as the weather gets colder, Evan’s at his apartment more and more often, almost all the time and…

Connor’s going to ask, he’s decided. It’s just a matter of when. 

Maybe Christmas? No, the store will be busy in the leadup, and Evan tends to take on a bunch of other people’s cases over Christmas on account of him being Jewish. January’s kind of a shit month to move in, as is February…

On his birthday, Connor decides. 

He’s going to ask on his 30th birthday. 

There’s something fitting about it. Reclaiming that day, that anniversary. 

Three years after they died and died and died, three years after Connor met Evan again, really met him, he’s going to ask him to move in with him. 

He’s pretty sure Evan will say yes. 

Pretty sure, but… not completely. 

So he might just keep dropping hints over the next few months. Feel it out. Be cautious about it. 

Connor’s not a patient man, but when it comes to Evan, he can be patient. He can wait. He doesn’t want to rush things, he doesn’t want to rush him, he knows that Evan needs to do things in his own time, it’s just how he is. 

Connor loves him. 

He loves him so, so fucking much. 

The burger is delicious, Connor has to admit, and Evan seems pleased that he’s eating something that’s got iron in it. Evan’s done a bunch of research on what things are best for iron and iron absorption and even though he’s not a cook by any stretch of the imagination, he’s gotten good at figuring out which takeout things are a good option for iron, especially if Connor’s done something embarrassing like faint that week. 

The bookstore kids have gotten used to it, enough that they tease Connor a little bit about napping on the job. Connor remembers one afternoon when he fainted on the store floor and regained consciousness to Jax telling a customer that clearly the boss just needed a lie down. 

Granted, Jax had also sent Connor upstairs to rest the moment the customer was gone, checked in on him every half hour for the rest of the day and ordered a very meaty burger for Connor via UberEats, despite being vegan. 

They split a slice of apple pie for dessert, and Connor can’t help but smile when Evan tells him that Connor’s version is way better than the one they serve at the diner. 

He’s pretty sure Evan’s full of shit, but it’s sweet, nonetheless. 

Connor stands up too fast when they go to leave and has to sit back down again for a moment, which has Evan looking at him in mild terror and Connor cursing his own stupidity. After a moment, he gets up slowly and stays upright, and feels a whole lot better once they both get their jackets and gloves and scarves back on, ready to go out into the cold. 

“You took your iron tablet this morning, right?” Evan asks as they leave the diner. 

“Yes,” Connor says with a roll of his eyes. “You saw me take it.”

Evan squeezes his hand and kisses his cheek. “I just worry,” he says softly. “It’s… it’s scary, how often you get dizzy or faint.”

“I have the vapours,” Connor jokes. “Like a proper Victorian woman. I just need to stop lacing my corset so fucking tight.”

Evan snorts. “If your corset isn’t tight enough, then however will you find a husband?”

“Isn’t the whole point of the corset to show off, like, child-bearing hips?” Connor ponders as they turn the corner. “Sorry, biology says no.”

“Oh my god.”

“Didn’t they used to treat various illnesses in Victorian women with orgasms?” Connor says, grinning at Evan widely. “Wanna try to cure my anemia when we get home?”

Evan grins back. Wraps an arm around Connor’s waist. “I mean, it’s clearly solid science,” he replies. He kisses Connor on the cheek, then Connor turns properly so he can kiss him properly. 

As they keep walking toward the bookstore, Connor can hear the sound of a guitar being played. 

It’s haunting and beautiful. 

Evan looks at him, and there’s this strange, lost expression on his face that Connor can’t figure out. “Is that…”

Otis is standing on the corner, under the streetlamp, playing his guitar and singing. 

He looks right at Connor. 

Something in his expression changes. He stops playing.

“You… you’re not in the right place,” he says to Connor, his voice so, so sad. “Not really.”

Connor blinks. “What do you mean?”

Evan looks… almost angry. “No,” he says, his voice firm. “No, I’m staying here. You can’t make me go back there.”

Connor turns to Evan. Grabs his hand and holds it tightly. “Go back where?” he asks. 

There’s a buzzing in the back of his head. 

The feeling of biting into aluminium foil. 

Connor suddenly realizes he’s not holding Evan’s hand anymore. 

Because Evan’s fading. 

And so is he. 

“Evan!” he calls out, trying desperately to reach him, to hold onto him, to keep him with him. 

“I love you,” Evan says, his voice raw and almost resigned. “I love you I love you I love-”

Connor opens his eyes. 

Sits up in bed. 

His heart won’t stop pounding, it won’t, it won’t, it…

From the spare bedroom, he can hear Otis screaming. 

Edgar is meowing loudly, pulling at Connor’s shirt with his paws. 

Connor tries to stop shaking enough to drag himself out of bed. Goes to the spare room, where he finds Otis in the corner, trembling and crying and screaming his throat raw. 

It takes a long time to calm him down. 

A long, long time. 

When he finally does, Otis grabs Connor by the collar of his shirt. “I’m sorry,” he sobs, sounding so fucking sad. “I’m so sorry, I’m so so sorry, I didn’t want to I didn’t want to I didn’t want to make you leave, I didn’t want to, I’m sorry I’m sorry I’m sorry-”

“What do you mean?” Connor asks desperately. “What are you talking about, Otis, what do you mean you didn’t want to make me leave?”

“You’re happy there,” Otis sobs. “You’re kind to me, you’re so kind and I want you to be happy, but you can’t stay even if I want you to, you can’t, I’m sorry I’m sorry I’m sorry.”

Otis leans his head on Connor’s shoulder and cries and cries and cries until he’s got nothing left in him. Connor’s so lost, so fucking confused, but he rubs Otis’s back and tries to be some sort of comfort. 

He doesn’t understand this. 

He doesn’t understand it at all.


	86. EIGHTY-FIVE

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> "There are other realities. I know, because I see them. I see them all.”

Evan hated his subconscious. He really fucking hated it. 

Evan had gone to the bar to get a drink the night before, and he had been thinking to himself how fucking annoying it was to keep hearing that fucking Mariah Carey song and then his brain produced some piece of shit dream where he and Connor were happy and together and Evan was bitching about it and… 

Fuck he hadn’t wanted the dream to end. 

He desperately hadn’t wanted to wake up. 

And to make matters worse now Evan had broken down and finally read through the Buzzfeed write up on The Little Book Nook. 

Fuck. 

Mostly the article was just pictures of Edgar photoshopped in front of various landmarks, commenting on how adorable Edgar was and how creative the team at The Little Book Nook was. 

It tugged at Evan’s heart to see all of the photos of Edgar. 

He had been avoiding The Little Book Nook’s Instagram page for a while because seeing Edgar just… made him sad. He felt stupid missing a cat. A cat that wasn’t even his, a cat he hadn’t even liked at first. But seeing Edgar preening in front of the Leaning Tower of Pisa and demurely licking his paw on top of Machu Picchu hurt all the same. He missed that cat. He missed Connor. 

Evan hated to admit it but he fucking missed Connor all of the time. Constantly. 

Feeling especially masochistic, Evan kept reading the article. He read as the article described why Edgar ( _ and his human, owner and manager, Connor Murphy _ ) had been absent from The Little Book Nook for pretty much all of October. 

_ In reality, Murphy was back home in the midwest, staying with his family while recuperating from a serious illness. Murphy, 29, fell into a mysterious coma following a routine appendectomy in July, and has spent the last few months recovering. Edgar Allan Paw, Murphy’s trusted feline companion, accompanied his human during his time away from New York City.  _

_ “Edgar is very popular with our customers,” said Maureen Torres, 23, who manages the bookstore’s social media. “And we got a lot of questions about where he had gone. I wanted to reassure people that Edgar was just off having a little adventure, and I guess I just got carried away.” _

_ You can check out more of Edgar Allan Paw’s adventures in person at The Little Book Nook in the East Village or via Instagram @TheLittleBookNook.  _

Evan read and reread and re-reread the article until he practically had it memorized. It ended with a photo of Connor and Edgar that Evan’s mom had taken over Thanksgiving last year, when Edgar was still just a kitten. 

Feeling especially full of self-hatred, Evan scrolled down to the comment section on the article. 

A lot of them were silly. Bored housewives commenting that Edgar was a cute cat and the like. 

Others though? 

Others hurt. 

_ The owner of the bookstore is hotttttttttttt.  _

_ Want him to tear my ass up.  _

_ Like to see him put that mouth to good use.  _

But then they just got worse. 

_ I heard his boyfriend totally dumped him, like, the minute he woke up from his coma.  _

_ The boyfriend is some greedy lawyer who only stuck around long enough to put his name on the lawsuit against the hospital.  _

The replies to that one were especially brutal. 

_ Typical _ _ jew.  _

The next comment was a link to an article about one of Evan’s cases, and the comments on it varied from mildly antisemetic to people criticising Evan’s hair and eyes and nose to someone who proposed  _ putting that kike in a gas chamber. _

Why the fuck had he read the comments? Seriously, what the fuck was the matter with Evan? He knew what he would find there. It wasn’t like the breakup was a secret. 

He was so fucking stupid. Had he thought he’d find some sympathetic defenders of his actions in the comment section on a Buzzfeed article? Like, genuinely, Evan knew the score. He couldn’t even defend himself, why would he expect strangers on the internet to offer him empathy? 

Fuck. 

It didn’t stop him from reading every last comment. Every single word about how hot Connor was, every threat saying Evan was a monster for leaving, every kind passive reader who just thought Edgar was adorable and charming. 

* * *

Otis sleeps for most of the next few days. 

Just sleeps.

Connor wakes him up regularly to give him medication and something to eat with it but even when he’s awake, he’s not really there. 

He talks in his sleep sometimes, but Connor can’t understand what he’s saying. It’s too mumbled, too faint, too weak. 

On the second night, Connor wakes up to the sound of Otis screaming again.

Screaming at the top of his lungs. 

He runs into the spare room to see Otis in bed, his eyes closed, thrashing in pain, his face covered in sweat. 

“Please please please,” Connor can hear him begging. “Please don’t please don’t it’s all I have it’s all I have.”

“Otis,” Connor says as gently as he can, trying to wake him up. “Otis, it’s okay, you’re okay-“

“No no no please I won’t survive without it please please it’s all I have it’s all I have of her please.  _ Please _ .”

“Otis.  _ Otis!  _ You’re okay. It’s okay. You’re safe, you’re in my apartment and you’re safe-“

“Give it back please,” Otis sobs. Begs. Pleads.

“No one is taking anything,” Connor says firmly. He’s terrified. He has no idea what’s happening to him. No fucking clue. “You’re safe.”

Otis’s eyes snap open. 

He stares at Connor, like he doesn’t know who he is. Like he doesn’t see him.

“Where am I?” he asks, his voice ragged. “Which one are you?”

“You’re at my apartment,” Connor says. “I’m... Connor. You know me.”

“Which one are you?” Otis repeats, and Connor is so fucking lost. “Do you know  _ me _ ?”

“Yes,” Connor says, this odd, buzzing feeling pulsing through his head. “I... I know you, Otis. It’s the me who knows you.” 

“They took my guitar,” Otis says, his voice shaking. He looks so fucking scared. “I couldn’t stop them, I was too... too sick. Without my guitar I can’t... I won’t survive. I’ll die, I don’t want to die again, I don’t I don’t I-“

“Your guitar is right here,” Connor says, gesturing to the instrument next to the bed. “No one’s taken it.”

“Not here,” Otis says, shaking his head. He looks so fucking scared. “Not here, they didn’t take  _ this _ guitar, they took it somewhere else.”

“What do you mean somewhere else?” Connor asks. He’s cold. He feels cold.

Otis looks like he’s about to cry. “You didn’t believe me when I told you. You... you didn’t believe me.”

“Whatever you have to tell me,” Connor says firmly, “whatever it is, I  _ swear _ I’ll believe you. I’ve been through too much crazy shit to not believe you.”

Otis stares at Connor, his eyes wide and fearful. “In another reality,” he says finally. “Another time, another place. I was on the street and someone took my guitar. That means I’ll die soon. I’ll die there.”

“You won’t,” Connor says firmly. “I won’t let you.”

Otis shakes his head. “It’ll hurt for a while but I’ll go somewhere else, I’ll move on somewhere else, it won’t stick it never sticks. It’s happened before. I can’t stop it and neither can you.”

“What do you mean it’s happened before?” Connor asks, bewildered. 

Otis slumps against the pillow. He’s pale and shivering, face covered in a sheen of sweat. “There are other realities,” he says, sounding so fucking devastated. “I know, because I see them. I see them all. I’ve seen them for years, it’s been this way for years.” He looks at Connor, his eyes dull. “You got caught in a whirlpool. Caught in the repetition. Fell down the endless hole in the world. You, and Evan, and the others.”

“I died,” Connor says flatly. “Over and over again, nearly three years ago.”

“You did,” Otis says weakly. “And you didn’t. And when you didn’t die you... kept going, kept on splitting the world. This one’s wrong. The wrong flip of the dice, the wrong side of the coin. Wrong.”

Connor feels sick.

Actually sick.

Otis has been to another reality, just like Connor did. 

Multiple realities, from the sounds of it.

“How many?” Connor asks.

Otis shrugs. “I could count forever and I’d never know.” He offers Connor a weak smile. “I never know where I’ll end up. Can never tell. There seem to be ones that... anchor me. That I keep coming back to.”

Connor wants to ask more questions. 

He’s about to, when Otis starts to cry. 

“I miss my mom,” he says, and fuck. He looks so young.  _ Sounds _ so fucking young. “It’s been months. Months since I’ve seen her.”

“We can call her,” Connor says instantly. “Where is she?”

Otis looks away. “She died. When I was seventeen. But sometimes... sometimes I’m with her. In a reality where she got better. And everything’s okay.” 

Connor blinks a few times, feeling his eyes sting. 

Fuck. 

Fuck.

That’s… heartbreaking. Completely heartbreaking. 

He wants to cry at the thought. 

“You see her sometimes?” Connor asks, his voice rough. “That’s... I’m glad you get to see her.” 

“I never get to stay,” Otis confesses, his voice so sad. “All I want is to stay. To stay with her. I miss her so much.”

“She died when you were seventeen?” Connor asks softly. Otis nods. “How old are you now?”

Otis frowns, like he’s thinking about it. “What year is it?”

Connor feels his heart clench. “2021.”

Otis nods. “And it’s... December?”

“Yeah.”

Otis nods again. “I’m nearly twenty-four,” he says after a moment. “My birthday is on New Year’s Day.” He offers a weak smile. “Lucky for me, it makes it... easier. Otherwise I don’t know if I’d ever realize.”

Fuck. 

He’s just a kid. 

Just a kid. 

Connor… hadn’t known. He hadn’t known just how young Otis really was. 

“What happened?” Connor asks gently. “After your mom died? How did you end up here?”

Otis looks like he’s too tired to lie. Too tired to keep it to himself. “Mom had cancer,” he says quietly. “The medical bills were really expensive, so we were super broke. By the time she died there was just… nothing left. After she died, I had to sell the house to cover the debts. I worked three jobs all through my senior year of high school. Crashed on friends couches for a bit, then managed to get a room in this shitty apartment. It was hard, but I got through high school. And I joined the army straight after graduation.” He offers a sad smile. “I figured it was my best shot at getting back on my feet, you know? I didn’t really want to but…”

“I’m so sorry,” Connor says, feeling this awful tightness in his chest. 

“I ended up serving in Afghanistan,” says Otis, flinching visibly. “I… wasn’t there long. I… one of the other soldiers in my unit was a friend of mine. We became friends basically immediately. His name was Matt, and he…” Otis looks at the ceiling instead of at Connor as he continues. “He died. There was… fuck, it was… he died. In my arms. I saw him die, I felt him die, I could… feel the life leave him, I watched it drain right out of him.”

“Oh my god,” Connor whispers quietly.

“And then the next day I woke up and he was there,” Otis says, still staring at the ceiling. “Alive. I… I completely freaked out, because I saw him die, I felt him die, it… it was real, I know it was real. I know what I saw. What I felt. You don’t… you don’t forget that.”

Connor feels cold. There’s a buzzing in his head. “You… you woke up in a reality where he hadn’t died,” he says quietly. “Is that what happened?”

Otis nods. “Yeah.” He looks so sad. “I didn’t stay there, though. Not for long. Just long enough to thoroughly freak out, to get sedated and examined and… then when I got back to the reality where he’d died, I freaked out even more, because he’d been alive. I’d  _ seen _ him alive. They…” Otis laughs. Finally looks Connor in the eye. “Well, they weren’t going to keep a crazy soldier. They sent me home.”

“You’re a veteran,” Connor says, a little desperately. “They should have helped you, there should have been help.”

Otis shrugs. “There was supposed to be. I think. I don’t know. It… I got lost? I got really lost and I just… I didn’t… it didn’t work out.” He looks at the ceiling again. “They had me on medication for a while. Something that was supposed to make it better. I’ve taken it on and off and it… helps? Helps make it all easier to deal with. But it doesn’t stop it. Doesn’t make me normal.”

“Do you know what it was?” Connor asks gently. “The medication you were on? We can… we can try to find it, see if we can get you back on it. If it helps, we need to try.”

Otis shrugs again. “I just want to sleep,” he says, his voice so small. “I…” He looks Connor in the eye again, his expression serious. “I’m not going to forget,” he says, his voice stronger. “What you’ve done for me. No matter what universe I end up in next, I won’t forget what you did in this one. This is… the kindest thing that anyone has ever done for me.”

Connor swallows hard. “I just want to help,” he says, a little desperately. “I…”

“You and Evan,” Otis says after a moment. “You helped. You… the boots, the clothes, the backpack? It… it helped. It made so much of a difference. You…” He blinks. “You’re not the only ones who feel the cracks in reality. I’ve met other people who’ve slipped through. They don’t… they don’t always come back from it. It’s… it’s hard for the mind to take it. It snaps. It breaks. We’re not made to pass through like this. We’re not designed for it, the human psyche is too fragile. Not everyone makes it out.” He stares at Connor for what feels like a long time. “It’s easier when you’re not alone. It makes it easier. Maybe that’s why you and Evan are the kindest. Because you stayed together. Because you made it out together. You… healed each other’s cracks. Soothed each other’s wounds.” Otis winces. “It’s not supposed to be like this. The cracks get wider and wider, the wounds get deeper and deeper. There’s a hole in the world and it just keeps getting bigger, the longer this goes on.”

“I’m sorry,” Connor says, but he doesn’t know what he’s apologizing for.

“It might swallow us all,” says Otis, his voice so, so sad. He closes his eyes. “I’m so tired.”

“Get some more sleep,” Connor says softly. “We can talk more tomorrow. Okay? Just… just rest. It’s going to be okay.”

Connor hopes he’s telling the truth. 


	87. EIGHTY-SIX

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> "You’ve got wannabe lawyer written all over your face."

The holiday party was mandatory, Evan learned, much to his irritation. He would much rather just be working. Chelsea, Evan’s intern, had been hovering around for a while, as if she was waiting to see if she was invited. 

“Obviously you’re invited,” Evan said to her, trying to smile. “But. You know. Be smart about it, okay?” He raised his eyebrows significantly. 

Chelsea’s face fell. “Right.” Clearly she still remembered Evan gently turning her down a few weeks back. Well, as gently as he could considering the circumstances. He wanted her to be safe and to… not try to pull what she’d pulled on him with anyone who would take advantage.

“Just… drunk old white guys,” Evan said awkwardly. 

“Right.”

“You just… you’re good. I don’t want any of this to… impact your reputation.”

Chelsea gave Evan a hard look, one that suggested perhaps there were things about his own reputation he didn’t know. He shrugged it off. He was good. He had worked hard to get where he was, and even if there were rumors like the one Chelsea had spat at him when he rejected her advances, he had the ability to rest on his laurels. Big, multimillion dollar laurels. 

The party was hosted at some restaurant in midtown. It was an unbelievably expensive place, but there was an open bar, so Evan decided he’d have an alright time. He had a few whiskys and made some pretty boring conversation with a few of the senior partners. Richard kept eyeing Evan up and down and Evan kept ignoring it. 

He didn’t have time for that shit tonight. 

Evan went back to the bar, telling himself he was trying to keep an eye on Chelsea, but really he knew he was just trying to get as much free liquor as he could. He could not handle this party sober. He just… couldn’t deal with the way Richard was looking at him. He needed to clean his brain out with as much hard liquor as he could manage. 

“Can I get a glass of the twenty five year old Chivas please?” Evan asked the bartender politely. 

There was a laugh from beside him. “Jesus, you rich kids all drink that shit don’t you?”

Evan turned around to retort, tell off the person who said that, tell them to fuck right off but his protests died on his lips. Garrett, Connor’s asshole former employee, was smirking at him from just a few feet down the bar. He’d been the one to speak. 

“It’s not even that good,” Garrett said, rolling his eyes.

“Oh for fuck’s sake,” Evan muttered under his breath. “What the hell are you doing here?” 

“I’m my buddy Gabe’s arm candy for this event,” Garrett said with a grin. “He didn’t want to come by himself.” He rolled his eyes, “But now he’s cozying up to some higher up called Donald Hunt so my services are no longer needed.”

Evan frowned. “Ah.”

“You still hanging around with the Little Book Nook’s resident asshole?” Garrett asked, smiling. “Last I heard you two were in the middle of some kind of obnoxious will they, won’t they.”

“Not so much anymore.”

“Oh?” Garrett sounded surprised. “What happen? You finally figure out that Connor is an obnoxious, spoiled asshole?”

Evan frowned. “You didn’t hear?”

“Hear what?” Garrett asked. “I heard he had some kinda appendix thing a few months back, but other than that, haven’t heard anything. I unfollowed all the social media pages. They’re all full of some fucking cat these days anyway.”

“Surprised it took you that long. Since you quit without notice,” Evan said. He couldn’t help himself. Garrett quitting had been the beginning of Connor’s mental health crisis last year. Garrett was an asshole. 

“Got a better offer,” Garrett said with a shrug. “So what brings you here, huh?”

“I work for McLaren,” Evan said shortly. 

“I thought you were doing some ecowarrior shit?”

“Still am,” Evan said shrugging. “Just with a bigger firm behind me.”

“Impressive,” Garrett said. “McLaren’s a big deal.”

“What does a guy who worked in a bookstore know about this firm?” Evan said, annoyed. “Other than what your arm candy said, of course.”

Garrett’s face flushed. “I thought about going to law school once,” He said, frowning. “Decided it wasn’t for me.”

Evan smirked. “You didn’t get in anywhere, did you?”

“Fuck off,” Garrett said, his face red now, but he didn’t move away. In fact, he stepped closer. Fucking hell.

“Not even a state school?” Evan pressed further, smiling harder, taking pleasure in watching Garrett squirm. “That’s a real shame.”

Garrett was absolutely blushing now. “You’re sort of an asshole too, then, huh?”

Evan shrugged. “I dunno. Heard that apparently I’m some kind of rich kid. Isn’t that what we are? Assholes?” 

Garrett smiled. 

Evan realized too late that he was flirting. 

Shit. 

He didn’t want to be flirting. He didn’t want to be flirting with fucking  _ Garrett _ who fucked Connor over. Who was a shitty and unreliable employee. Evan wanted to be distracted, but he didn’t want to do it like this.

He didn’t like that guy. He  _ hated _ that guy. 

But he was… tired. Tired of trying his best to do good, be good only to have it thrown back in his fucking face. Only to be blamed and called an asshole and a monster and a coward. Only to have to see that Connor was… fine. Everything he had seen and heard about Connor was that he was doing fine. The store was flourishing. There was that fucking Buzzfeed article… 

Evan hated to admit it to himself but… he’d hoped that maybe Connor  _ wouldn’t  _ be fine without him. The way Evan wasn’t fine without Connor. That maybe Connor would be sadder, would fall apart, would… show up and beg Evan to talk to him again, apologize more, use his stubbornness to win Evan back onto his side again. But he hadn’t shown up since Yom Kippur. And he was fine. Connor was fine. Connor was apparently flourishing. Doing better. Making money with the store, doing more work with Leatherbird... Getting everyone Evan knew on his side, even Evan’s own mother, because he was able to hide behind his fucking coma and play the victim when he fucking wasn’t. He had been the one to leave. To lie. To… sleep with fucking Parker. To kill himself for Evan and expect that Evan would be okay with that. Connor had broken them. Not Evan. All Evan had done was struggle and Connor used it against him, weaponized Evan’s shortcomings and then made it all his fault and he’d never been in this, he’d never been really in it he didn’t understand that you can’t just lie to the person you were with and then blab their secrets to all of your stoner friends that wasn’t fair it wasn’t fair it wasn’t fucking fair. 

Connor had been the one who caused this and Evan had been taking all of the goddamn blame. And he’d signed up for that, expected that, but he was… tired. Exhausted by it. And really fucking lonely. Hardly anybody asked after him anymore. It was really fucking lonely to play the villian. 

So he was fucking flirting with fucking Garrett because at least that was a distraction. Something to do. Something other than Connor to focus on for once.

Garrett smiled at him harder. “How’s working for McLaren?”

“Boring,” Evan said. “He’s kind of a hardass.”

“And a flirt too, if I remember.”

Evan rolled his eyes. “So you’ve met?”

“A few times,” Garrett said. “He used to come around to pick up Connor at the store. Back when he was cheating on James.”

“I know,” Evan said, his voice hard. He hated thinking about that. About Richard lying to Connor, Richard touching Connor with his hands. He downed the rest of his drink. 

“I heard James won big in the divorce though. They’re still arguing over assets. Richard’s crashing at a friend’s place now.”

“You’re kind of a gossip,” Evan said to Garrett. Watched Garrett flush more, stutter, mumble that he was just making conversation. 

Maybe he could flirt a little. He needed a distraction. 

Anything to keep from thinking about Connor. Or about Connor and Richard together. Fucking. Connor groaning Richard’s name, Richard pulling Connor’s hair...

“So you and Connor… are you still a thing?” Garrett asked, knocking Evan out of his self loathing fantasy. 

“No,” Evan said shortly. “We broke up over the summer.”

“Ah,” Garrett said, trying to sound disinterested but failing. He never would have been able to hack it as a lawyer, Evan thought. His face gave him away. He’d never stand up in a courtroom. 

Evan smiled, imagining Garrett’s likely low LSAT scores. 

“Want another drink?” Evan asked him. “It might be for pretentious assholes, but the whisky  _ is _ pretty good.” 

He was flirting. 

And Garrett was flirting back. 

This was really happening, Evan realized. He was really doing this. 

He didn’t… care, Evan realized. He didn’t fucking care. He really didn’t. 

They had two more drinks, exchanging barbs with each other. Garrett called Evan’s suit “an ode to consumerism” and Evan countered by asking what his LSAT score had been. 

“Fuck off,” Garrett said with a surprised laugh. 

“What, I know you took it. You’ve got wannabe lawyer written all over your face. How bad? 126? 130?”

“Fuck you.”

That was always an option, Evan thought to himself. 

No that was… 

He could flirt but that was where he drew the line, Evan thought to himself. He had to fucking draw the line. 

“Did you see that fucking Buzzfeed article? About the bookstore cat?” Garrett said. “That place used to have fucking integrity, man, it used to be about like. Building community and literature and now it’s all… memes and photoshop. It’s so fake.” Garrett was slurring a little. “Like, fuck did they hire someone to do that?”

“I think it’s your replacement,” Evan said shortly. Garrett blushed again. “I’m going to go out for a smoke,” Evan said finally, thinking he’d leave, he could leave here. 

“I’ll come with you,” Garrett said.

Evan didn’t protest. 

Garrett followed Evan to the coat check. On their way, Evan stopped to check in on Chelsea, who was looking mildly uncomfortable chatting with a senior associate in his mid-fifties and bad hair plugs. 

“You good?” Evan asked her. 

“I was actually just going to head out,” She said quietly. 

“Good call,” Evan said, looping an arm around her shoulders. “Just going to borrow my intern here, Saul. Have a good night.”

“Thank you Mr. Hansen,” Chelsea mumbled. 

“Please call me Evan,” He said wearily. “You know I don’t… I’m like, maybe five years older than you, Chelsea. It’s weird when you call me Mr. Hansen.” 

Chelsea gave him a look that suggested that was a losing battle. 

But he escorted her to the coat check and then out the door, Garrett still following close behind her. 

“That was… decent of you,” Garrett said when Chelsea had headed off in a Lyft. 

Evan gave him a look. 

“Just. You hear things sometimes.”

Evan frowned at him. “She’s a good kid. She shouldn’t have to put up with that kind of shit.”

Garrett nodded. 

Evan lit a cigarette. Then, feeling bold, offered one to Garrett. 

“Yeah,” he said, smiling at Evan. He put the cigarette between his lips and Evan lit it for him, watching the way his cheeks hollowed, and wondering if he was good with his mouth. 

Evan knew he should go home. Sleep it off. Not listen to the impulse telling him to keep talking to Garrett. 

But Evan wasn’t super great at listening to his voice of reason lately. 

They smoked and kept chatting, Garrett complaining about his new job, and Evan realized maybe halfway through that he was an assistant manager at a Barnes and Noble. Apparently they were mobbed at the holidays, and Garrett hadn’t had a proper night off in weeks because his manager was “a fascist piece of shit.”

“Sounds like maybe you just have problems with authority,” Evan said dryly. 

Garrett blushed. “A lot of people let being the boss go to their head.”

“Huh.” Evan said, putting his cigarette out. He looked at Garrett appraisingly. 

He’d had just enough to drink that the next words out of his mouth made perfect sense. “You want to get out of here?”

Garrett smiled, this wide triumphant smile. “Your place?”

Evan shook his head. “I have roommates.”

“You have  _ roommates _ ? Don’t you make, like, six figures?” Garrett muttered. 

“Real estate in this city is a nightmare,” Evan said, frowning at him. “Are we going to your place or not?”

“Okay,” Garrett said, nodding. “I… It’s kinda small?”

“I wasn’t asking to come over so I could sublet it,” Evan said with a roll of his eyes. 

Garrett smiled again. “Okay.” 

He gave Evan his address and Evan ordered them a Lyft. It wasn’t a short ride, and Evan found himself already regretting agreeing to leave with Garrett about ten minutes in. 

But then Garrett’s hand was on Evan’s thigh, tracing up his inseam and it was just distracting enough to keep Evan from leaping out of the car on the Brooklyn Bridge and calling it a night. 

Once they were out of the car, Evan kissed Garrett roughly, desperate now for the distraction. It helped a lot. Garrett responded enthusiastically, his hands looping around Evan’s neck automatically. 

Garrett lived in a kind of shitty garden studio apartment. It had a sort of musky smell to it, but Evan wasn’t here to spend a lot of time. 

“Can I get you a drink?” Garrett asked him, breathless. 

“No thanks,” Evan said, striding to the bed. He toed off his shoes, noticing how Garrett was watching him hungrily, and had a seat. “Come here.”

Garrett obeyed quickly. 

Maybe he didn’t have as many problems with authority as Evan thought. 

It wasn’t terrible, really. Not violent like it had been with Charlie, at least. Garrett wasn’t so bad on his knees and he was a decent kisser. It didn’t change the fact that Evan didn’t want him, he didn’t want Garrett, he didn’t want this… but it was something to do. A distraction, a way to not spend the night sitting at home and drinking about Connor. And that was something. 

Garrett finished pretty fast, which helped Evan to get off. When they were done, Garrett threw an arm over Evan’s chest, going to pull him in. 

“No thanks,” Evan said, sitting up. “I don’t cuddle. Sorry.”

“Oh,” Garrett said, sounding a little put out. “Okay.”

“This was fun,” Evan said, getting up and searching for his underwear. 

“We could… you could stay. We could hang out?”

Evan rolled his eyes. “No thanks,” he repeated. 

“Can I get your number?” Garrett asked then, sounding almost… sad. “This was… I had a good time.”

Evan buckled his belt, pulled his shirt on. “Look, this is all that this is gonna be. Sorry man.”

He put his coat on and said goodbye. 

He didn’t throw up after this time. That was something. 

...He also didn’t have a broken rib this time so. That was. Something. 

Evan took the train home. When he got there, he had a few more drinks and took a hot shower, scrubbing away all signs of having fucked someone who wasn’t Connor. 

Then he was finally able to sleep.


	88. EIGHTY-SEVEN

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> “The cracks in the world keep getting wider. Wider and deeper. Who knows where it ends?"

Once Otis recovers from walking pneumonia, he looks a lot better. Healthier. At least physically. Connor’s able to make sure he eats and sleeps and showers and he’s even starting to put on a bit of weight, which is good.

But the nightmares don’t stop.

The spacing out and staring at nothing doesn’t stop.

Zoe’s around a lot, like she’s trying to keep an eye on the both of them, and she’s concerned. Genuinely concerned. She tells Connor how concerned she is with alarming frequency.

“He’s disassociating,” she says, her tone brisk and professional. “A lot of the time it’s like he’s not there. And a lot of what he says... doesn’t make any sense.”

“I know,” Connor says, a little awkwardly. It’s not like he can explain what he thinks is going on without sounding crazy himself but he can at least shed a little bit of light on what the poor kid has been through. “He’s… he’s had a hard time. His mom died when he was seventeen. Cancer. He joined the military and one of his friends died in his arms. It kind of… kind of messed him up. He has a hard time figuring out what’s real.”

Zoe frowns. Looks genuinely sad. “How old is he?”

“Twenty-three. He’ll be twenty-four on New Year’s Day.” Connor sighs. “He’s… look, I’ve seen him around for years. At least three. If he graduated high school at eighteen then joined the military, he can’t have served for that long. A year, maybe two? I remember seeing him on my 27th birthday, and he’d have to have just turned twenty-one.” 

“If he’s a veteran, there are benefits he should be getting,” Zoe says quietly. “Especially to help with his healthcare.”

“It’s easy to fall through the cracks,” Connor points out, equally quietly. He sighs. “He said he was on some kind of medication for a while? But he lost his job and his apartment and couldn’t afford it anymore. Maybe… is there anything you can do?”

Zoe looks conflicted. She sighs. “I’m… it’s not my area of expertise. But I have some thoughts about medication that could help.” She sighs again. “I’ll talk to him? Try to get some more information about what he might have been taking. He said that it helped?”

“Yeah, he did,” Connor replies immediately. “Thank you, Zo.”

The next day, Connor knocks on the door of Otis’s room, armed with the medication Zoe recommended. Otis is sitting on the floor, his guitar in his lap, kind of staring into the distance. 

Edgar follows Connor into the room, lets out a happy meow and rubs his face on Otis’s leg. This seems to snap him out of it, at least enough to realize he’s not alone in the room. He looks at Connor and offers a weak smile. 

Connor sits down on the floor in front of him. 

He hands him the bottle of pills. Otis takes them and looks at them, recognition dawning on his face. 

“I can’t afford these,” Otis says, trying to hand the bottle back.

Connor shrugs. “I can. And they help, right?”

Otis hesitates, frowning. “Yeah, but…”

“Then they’re yours.” 

“I can’t… I can’t take this,” Otis says, shaking his head. “It’s… you’ve already done enough, it-”

“Please let me help you,” Connor interrupts, his voice firm. “Please.”

Otis looks at him, this long, searching look. Something like realization dawns in his eyes. “You need me to let you do this, don’t you?”

Connor nods. Feels his eyes start to burn. “I can’t help him,” he says simply. “He won’t… he won’t let me, and I feel so… so fucking lost? I’m so fucking lost because I know he’s not okay, I can  _ feel _ it, somewhere deep inside of me. And there’s nothing I can do. I can’t do anything, I can’t, I…” 

Connor takes a deep breath. Closes his eyes. Opens them again. 

Otis looks so fucking sad. 

“The cracks in the world keep getting wider,” Otis says, his voice soft. “Wider and deeper. Who knows where it ends? It’s so deep that we can’t see the bottom yet.” Otis’s eyes get even sadder. “But it’s there. We know it’s there.”

“That’s what I’m afraid of,” Connor says quietly. 

Otis nods. He looks at the bottle of pills. Then at Connor. 

“Okay,” he says, sounding determined. Then his shoulders slump, his face falls and he looks so young, so fucking young. “I’m never going to be able to repay you for this.”

Connor shakes his head. “I don’t want you to. I have more than enough money.”

“It’s more than just money, it’s…”

They both sit there for a moment, the room silent and still, save for the sound of Edgar purring. 

“I know this sounds stupid,” Connor says after a moment, trying to express what’s been on his mind ever since he first found Otis outside the diner. “I know. But. Being able to help someone, someone who needs it, it makes me…” He sighs. “It makes me feel like it’s going to be okay. Like it’s all going to be okay, even though I don’t… I don’t have any proof, any way to really tell.” Connor shrugs. Laughs a little, even though it’s not really funny at all. “Like if I help someone, then I’m putting that out into the universe, putting out something… good. And maybe that something good will find its way to where it’s needed. Find its way to…”

He can’t finish. 

He can’t explain. 

Otis reaches out his hand and takes Connor, squeezing it gently. 

Connor thinks Otis understands. 

“Hey Connor, do you have a second?”

Connor looks up from laptop to see Leslie standing in the doorway of the apartment. She hadn’t even heard him coming in. 

It’s been months since any of his employees actually knocked on the door of his apartment. It’s not like they’re there all the time, but since he stopped doing as much time on the store floor, they make sure to check in on a regular basis. 

Probably because Connor keeps fainting. 

Not all the time, by any stretch of the imagination. It’s just something that happens sometimes. Ever since he got sick he’s been having a hard time keeping his iron levels up, even though he’s taking supplements and making sure he’s careful with his diet, and as a result, his anemia is wreaking havoc and causing him to go all Victorian heroine, which is… really fucking annoying. 

Maureen, Jax and Leslie check up on him a lot, even though he insists that he’s fine and that if he’s not, he’s got Otis living with him, so it’s not like he’s alone. 

Leslie keeps pointing out that although Otis is doing a whole lot better than he was, he’s still adjusting to the new medication and a lot of the time he’s just… not there. 

Connor’s keeping an eye on him. Making sure he’s safe. Wherever he is.

So he guesses he can’t blame his employees for wanting to do the same to him. 

“Sure,” Connor replies, shutting his laptop and gesturing for her to have a seat at the kitchen table with him. “Everything okay?”

“I just wanted to check in about the holidays,” Leslie says, her voice soft and even. “I know we usually host a holiday party but given how unwell you’ve been, I think people would understand if we decided to give it a miss this year.”

Connor frowns. “I…” He lets out a sigh. “Honestly, I don’t know if I can handle a party right now.”

Leslie nods. She looks sad. “Yeah. It’s understandable.” She steadies her shoulders. “Okay, so, if we’re not going to host a holiday party, I was thinking that maybe we send out some gifts to some of the people we’d normally invite? I found this website that does, like, branded wine glasses, and I thought maybe we could get some made and send them to people with a bottle of wine and a book.”

Connor is immediately on board. “That’s awesome,” he says with a grin. “That’d be really cool. Send me all the info and I can get it sorted.”

“I’ve already got a quote,” Leslie replies with a soft smile. “I’ll email it to you and if you’re okay with the costs involved, I can go ahead and get it organized in time for Christmas.”

“I really appreciate you doing that,” Connor says sincerely. “Fuck, I didn’t even think about the holiday party.” He rubs his face. “I’m kind of fucking useless these days, I’m so sorry.”

“You are not useless,” Leslie says immediately, frowning. “Not even a little bit. You’re just… you’re still healing, you know? After what happened to you, there’s a lot of healing to be had.”

  
  


Not having to throw a holiday party somehow makes December go quickly and before Connor knows it, it’s the week before Christmas. He honestly hasn’t put much thought into it, but it seems like Zoe has. She shows up at his apartment and basically tells him what’s happening. 

“So Mom arrives on Thursday,” she says matter-of-factly. “She’s going to stay in a hotel room because Otis is here. And Jax and Maureen are coming over on Christmas Day. Dad’s kind of swamped with work back home, but he said he’ll be in New York a lot in January and wants to take us out for dinner next time he’s in the city.”

“What do you want me to cook?” Connor asks. 

Zoe shakes her head. “Got it covered.”

Connor looks at her, bewildered. “You’re not cooking, are you?”

Zoe laughs. “Oh, god no. Mom found, like, a catering service? It’s super bougie but apparently the food is really good and they have good vegan options.”

Connor frowns. “Zoe, I’m happy to cook-”

“You don’t have to,” Zoe says immediately. It’s her turn to frown a little. “You look tired. You’ve looked… really tired these last few weeks. I’m worried.”

“I’m fine.”

“Leslie says you keep fainting.”

“I’m fine.”

Zoe bites her lip. Frowns deeper. “You need to look after yourself-”

“I am,” Connor insists. “I’m taking the iron supplements, I’m eating, I’m sleeping, I’m not working on the store floor as much. I’m doing everything I’m supposed to.”

“I just… I worry.”

“You don’t have to worry about me.”

Zoe’s eyes go big and glassy. “In case you’d forgotten, we nearly lost you less than six months ago,” she says, her voice wobbling. “We just want to take care of you.”

“You’ve been crossing over,” says Otis from the doorway to the living room, looking at Connor intently. “Haven’t you? Seeing the way things might have been.”

Connor feels this sharp, cold pain in his chest. “What?”

Zoe looks alarmed. “What are you talking about, Otis?”

“It’s tiring,” Otis says, his voice sad and resigned, still looking at Connor. “You get lost in the in-between and it’s so tiring, trying to fight your way back. I wish you didn’t have to.”

Zoe looks at Connor. “What is he talking about?”

“I’m okay, Otis,” Connor says, his voice gentle, all the while trying to communicate that he needs to stop freaking Zoe out. “I’m okay.”

Otis frowns. Shakes his head. He’s got this faraway look in his eyes that makes Connor’s heart hurt. 

“It’s not supposed to be like this,” Otis says, and he’s said it so many times that Connor’s almost expecting it. With that, his shoulders sag and he heads toward his room. 

Once he’s out of earshot, Zoe lets out a breath. “He’s… do you think the meds are helping?”

“Yes,” Connor says immediately. “They really are. But it’s early days yet, he just needs some more time.” 

Zoe nods. “Of course.” She pastes on a smile. “Christmas will be nice,” she says, her voice firm. “Mom’s looking forward to seeing you. She misses you.”

“I miss her,” Connor admits. 

“I think Dad’s actually kind of disappointed he won’t be able to make it,” Zoe says, with a small laugh that’s almost genuine. “You know that he and Mom talk on the phone like every day now, right?”

“He was around all the time when I was staying back home,” Connor says, smiling a little. “They’re… who knows what’s going on.”

Zoe’s quiet for a moment. “I wonder if they’re still boning.”

Connor shrugs. “If they were in October, they were subtle about it.” He shrugs again. “Would it be the worst thing? If they were? They clearly still love each other.”

Zoe looks… hesitant. “They broke up for a reason,” she says slowly. “They got divorced because they were making each other unhappy. Because they didn’t… didn’t have the same priorities and it was hurting them, staying together.”

“But Dad’s… Dad’s changed,” Connor says, a little stubbornly. “Maybe he and Mom didn’t see eye to eye on things before but since I got sick, he’s been… he’s been different, he’s changed. He’s around. He’s there. We…” He sighs. “We get along now. Me and Dad. It sounds fucking crazy, I know, but we do. If Dad and I can get along, then maybe he and Mom can make it work again.”

Something in Zoe’s expression shifts. “Maybe. It just… it wouldn’t be easy. There’s too much hurt. Too much has happened between them.”

“People deserve second chances,” Connor says determinedly. “No matter what. Everyone deserves a second chance.”

Zoe looks at Connor, her face tight with grief and anger. “No,” she says firmly. “Not everyone.


	89. EIGHTY-EIGHT

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> "You've already given me everything I need."

Christmas is… okay. Almost nice. On Christmas Day, Connor spends the day with his mom and Zoe, Jax and Maureen and Otis. Mariah joins them later that evening, having apparently been at some kind of event the night before and having slept in. It’s nice to see her, even though it’s a little weird. 

Mariah was Evan’s friend first. 

It feels weird to have her here without Evan. 

Once Zoe’s drunk enough that Connor’s sure she won’t notice, Connor takes the opportunity to pull Mariah aside for a moment. Mariah looks at him with this sad, knowing expression. 

“He’s not answering my calls,” she says before he can say anything. “So no, I don’t know how he’s doing. But I… I don’t think it’s good.”

“I know he’s not at Schneider and Weiss anymore,” Connor says cautiously. “That he’s working with Richard McLaren.”

Mariah’s face clouds over. “Yeah,” she says, her voice a little curt. “He… Asher’s really upset about it, it’s…” She shakes her head, then takes a long sip of prosecco. “I shouldn’t be talking to you about this, it’s not… fuck.”

“Sorry,” Connor says, a little helplessly. “I’m just… I worry. About him. I know I shouldn’t, I know he’s not… he doesn’t… I just worry.”

“Yeah,” says Mariah, a little sadly. “So do I.” She sighs. “Look, I don’t know what happened, but I know Evan. He doesn’t just… he’s making some pretty fucking shitty decisions right now but I think that he… he doesn’t just do things for no fucking reason, you know? I don’t know what his reasons  _ are, _ but I know they’re there. Even if they’re kind of fucked up.”

“He went to Richard’s firm because I wouldn’t let it go,” Connor says, his face burning. “He… he did it to get away from me, he did it so I’d…” He rubs his face. “It’s my fault. If I’d just let it go, hadn’t been such a fucking pyscho and tried to get him to talk to me, he’d still be at Schneider and Weiss.”

Mariah frowns a little. Looks thoughtful. “I don’t know if he would,” she says quietly. “I think it reminds him too much of you.”

Connor’s mom has to be back home before New Year’s Eve and Mariah has some kind of function that requires Zoe to be arm candy, so for a while it looks like it’s just Otis and Connor for New Year’s Eve. 

Then Connor remembers that New Year’s Day is Otis’s birthday. 

Otis deserves to have a nice birthday. 

He talks to Maureen about it, asking her what she thinks they should do. “I don’t want to overwhelm him,” Connor says, frowning a little. “But I don’t want it to just go by without any recognition.”

“I’ll make a cake,” Maureen says instantly. “And we can just hang out at your place, maybe.” She smiles. “We already got him a present. Jax and I pooled our money together and got him a new guitar case. It’s really nice, wanna see a picture?”

“Absolutely.”

It is a very nice guitar case, Connor agrees. It’s sturdy-looking, which will definitely be helpful. 

It’s also what Connor was thinking about getting Otis for his birthday, so that leaves him stumped for ideas.

He’d tried really hard to make Christmas as low key as possible, knowing that Otis didn’t exactly have money to spend and not wanting to flaunt the fact that his family is well off. He’d asked Zoe and his parents not to get him anything, which they’d all ignored. 

Turns out when you nearly die in July, the people around you want to make sure you get something good for Christmas to make up for it. His dad had bought him this beautiful set of leather-bound classic novels that are now probably the most expensive fucking thing he owns. His mom had genuinely paid to get a dishwasher installed in his apartment, insisting that it’d help Connor keep things tidy if he was ever too tired to do the dishes, which he thinks is total overkill but has to admit is extremely useful. 

Upon further research, Connor notes that the dishwasher they’d picked actually has a great energy rating and is in fact better for the environment than constantly handwashing dishes. 

Evan would be pleased.

Not that Evan’s ever going to see this dishwasher. 

Zoe had taken a slightly different approach and had dragged Connor to get a new tattoo a week before Christmas. “Whatever you choose, I’ll get the same,” she’d said.

“Even if I get Ruth Bader Ginsburg’s face on my ass cheek?”

“Especially if you get Ruth Bader Ginsburg’s face on your ass cheek.”

The idea of a new tattoo had been floating around Connor’s head ever since he got back to New York. Something to commemorate what happened. To remind him that he was real, remind him that he’d survived. 

After all, he’d gotten the clock tattoo right after the loops. Nearly dying and being stuck in a parallel universe was up there with significant shit. 

In the end, he gets a feather tattooed behind his ear. The design he picks out is small and intricate and beautiful. Zoe looks at it, her expression thoughtful and a little questioning. 

“What made you choose this?”

“Emily Dickinson,” Connor says immediately. “Hope is the thing with feathers.”

Zoe gets a matching feather on her abdomen. It’s only once they get home that they both realize the placement is just above where the appendix lives. 

For a moment, it looks like she’s going to cry, but then she shakes her head and laughs and says that it’s somehow extremely appropriate. 

New Year’s Eve sees Connor, Otis, Jax and Maureen in Connor’s apartment, playing a rousing game of Cards Against Humanity and drinking. Jax brings over a blender and makes ‘daiquiris’, which they admit are basically just ice, rum and whatever fruit they can find. The flavor combinations get increasingly bizarre as the evening progresses.

Otis seems to be having fun. 

As in, genuinely having fun. He and Maureen and Jax get along ridiculously well, and Connor realizes at that moment that they’re all around the same age. Maureen’s just turned 23, Otis is about to turn 24 and Jax, the oldest of the trio, is 25. 

And there’s Connor, about to turn 30 in February. 

It’s a weird feeling, knowing that he’s got several years on these kids, but it’s also kind of nice to see them enjoying themselves. Otis seems younger, more confident, and there’s a light in his eyes and a smile on his face and he seems at ease in his skin, which makes Connor feel warm inside. 

After a few drinks, Jax starts complaining about their tiny studio apartment and how the heating is constantly on the fritz. Maureen agrees. “It’s like an icebox in there.”

“At least I don’t have your crazy roommates,” Jax points out. “Those three are a terror.”

“Not to mention the fact that there are literally mushrooms growing in your bathroom,” Connor mutters, and Jax nods in agreement. “We gotta get you out of there.”

“Maybe we could find a place together,” Jax says to Maureen, their voice soft. “A nicer studio?”

“Go for something with more space,” Connor suggests. “If you’re working together and living together in a shoebox, you’ll drive each other crazy.” Something occurs to him. “I think Zoe said something about a two-bedroom place for rent in her apartment building.”

Jax rolls their eyes. “Yeah, but Zoe’s a fucking doctor. Didn’t she, like,  _ buy _ her apartment when she moved into her new place?”

“She did,” Connor says with a nod. “It is really near here, though. You could walk to work, so it would cut out transport costs.”

Maureen looks thoughtful. “We could maybe afford a two bedroom place if we had another roommate,” she suggests. 

Then she looks at Otis. His eyes widen. He looks at Connor, something hesitant in his expression. “I’d like that,” he says, his voice quiet. “I just… I don’t have any references or anything? It makes it hard.”

“If you wanted to do this, I’ll help,” Connor offers immediately. “Maybe I could, like, co-sign or something, I don’t know.” 

“We could look into it, at least,” Jax says patiently. “Crunch some numbers, get some information.”

“I’ll talk to Zoe,” Connor says, and Otis gives Connor this big, wide smile. It makes him look younger. 

Connor likes it. 

Maybe half an hour before midnight, someone buzzes up to the apartment. 

There’s this moment where Connor’s stomach swoops, because a part of him is expecting Evan.

It’s not.

It’s Andi, who’s come armed with banana bread and a fuckton of weed. She gives everyone huge, bone-crushing hugs when she arrives, including Otis who she has never met. 

Otis looks a little alarmed but goes with it. 

She lights up a joint, then hands out slices of banana bread. Jax offers her a pineapple and banana daiquiri (which has a disturbing consistency Connor does not care for at all) and she shakes her head. 

“Not drinking for a while,” she announces, taking a hit of the blunt. “I’m pregnant!”

Connor and Maureen exchange a look. 

“Uh…”

“Should you be high?” Jax asks, point-blank.

“It’ll be fine,” Andi says with a roll of her eyes. “It’s New Year’s!”

Connor has absolutely no idea how to respond to that. 

“I thought you were a lesbian?” Maureen asks, almost timidly. 

“Oh, I’m not keeping the little peanut,” Andi says immediately. “I’m just growing them for a friend. There’s this amazing couple I know who have all the biological bits for baby-making but neither of them are cis, and the one with the womb doesn’t want to carry a fetus because the idea gives them mega dysphoria. And  _ my _ womb was just sitting there doing nothing, so I figured what the hell, right?” 

Jax and Maureen exchange a look, and Connor has this sudden realization that the situation Andi’s describe sounds pretty familiar. There’s this hopeful expression in Maureen’s eyes and something soft on Jax’s face, and Connor’s stomach twinges a little painfully. 

Maybe one day, they’ll be parents. 

That’s a… weird thought. 

Connor’s never really thought he’d be a parent. He likes kids well enough, likes working with them at the bookstore, but he kind of likes being able to give them back to their caregivers at the end of the day. 

He and Evan never talked about kids. 

Considering all the weird shit that happened to them, that keeps happening to them, it’s probably a no. 

Not that it matters now. 

When it hits midnight, Jax and Maureen exchange a kiss that goes on longer than it needs to, and Andi pulls both Otis and Connor into a tight, bone-crushing hug. 

“Happy New Year!” Andi exclaims cheerfully. 

“Happy Birthday,” Connor says to Otis with a grin. 

Andi lets out a whoop of excitement and hugs Otis by himself, kissing him on both cheeks. “It’s your birthday? That’s so cool!”

Once Otis is finally free from Andi’s grasp, Jax and Maureen both hug him, then Maureen rushes into Connor’s room to grab the presents they’d hidden for him. 

Otis looks… a little overwhelmed, but he’s smiling so wide and his eyes are glassy and Connor’s heart is full. He opens the huge box containing the guitar case and looks absolutely thrilled, hugging Jax and Maureen in thanks, holding onto them tightly. Connor can see that his hands are shaking. 

Connor hands him a small box. Otis smiles at him, then hands it right back. 

“I can’t take this,” says Otis quietly. 

Connor hands him the box. “Sure you can. It’s your birthday.”

Otis shakes his head. Hands Connor back the box.

“You’ve already given me everything I need.”


	90. EIGHTY-NINE

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> “I really misjudged you when we first met. I thought you were far too wholesome for that.”

Evan worked a lot through the holidays. For the most part, he’d completely missed Hanukkah. Hadn’t lit a candle or called his mom or attended dinner with Mr. Abrahamson. Missed it completely. 

He nearly missed Christmas too. He wouldn’t have even noticed if not for the random Friday when he showed up to find the office almost entirely empty. He looked to Dawn, the office assistant, and asked where everyone was. 

“Tomorrow’s Christmas,” She said with a smile. His eyes zeroed in on her cheerful sweater featuring a bunch of cats in Santa hats. “Almost everyone took the day off.”

“Oh.”

Evan didn’t celebrate Christmas, nor did he have a boyfriend who did anymore, so Evan buckled down and got back to work. 

It felt as if he hadn’t looked up from his desk until December 31st, when Darryl, one of the other junior partners, popped in to ask if Evan was planning to go to the New Year’s Eve party being thrown by Susan, a senior associate who was known for throwing insane parties every year. 

Evan was about to pass, but then his eyes caught on the cactus and succulent he still kept on his desk… 

If he missed the party, Evan knew he would spend the night getting drunk alone and mournfully remembering how last year he and Connor had sneaked away from the party on Evan’s roof to have sex and totally missed the countdown to midnight.

“Yeah,” Evan said. “Do I need to bring anything?”

Darryl grinned. “Nasal spray if you partake but nothing else.”

Evan rolled his eyes. 

“Seriously though Suze has this shit catered every year.”

“Thanks.”

Evan arrived at the party straight after work, but it was already ten thirty. The party was raging inside, and Evan was pulled into a conversation immediately by Darryl and Richard, who Darryl was trying to kiss up to. Unfortunately for both Darryl and Evan, Richard kept staring at Evan. He was clearly checking Evan out. 

Evan needed to be drunker. 

Way drunker. 

He had several whiskys in quick succession, getting pulled into a conversation with a girl he didn’t recognize from work. “Oh I’m not a lawyer,” She said. “I work in finance. I work with Susan’s husband.”

Of course she worked in finance, Evan thought. She looked boring enough. 

Evan hadn’t caught her name, but when she shook his hand and said it was nice to meet him, Evan heard himself say likewise. 

_ “What kind of mayonnaise monster actually says ‘likewise’?” _

Evan needed to be a lot fucking drunker. He went back to the bar, and the woman in finance accompanied him. They had a few more drinks, ended up doing tequila shots, and then she practically dragged Evan into the bathroom. Apparently not as boring as he thought she was.

Evan prided himself on never having really done hard drugs before. He’d maybe been a bit less than strict with his off label use of Valium and Vicodin and Adderall in the past, but nothing that wasn’t technically prescription…

But he kept hearing Connor’s voice in his head as midnight approached. 

_ “Fuck, I’m sorry, we missed it.” _

_ “We didn’t miss anything. This is it.” _

So maybe drugs were the answer. Or at least an answer. 

Darryl had a point about the nasal spray in the end. 

Hilarious. 

Evan was pretty off his face, but that just meant he got quiet. And when he got quiet, apparently, that made him more interesting. This woman in finance kept asking him about himself, kept asking him what he liked about his job and if he was seeing anyone and Evan mumbled, disoriented, that he was single. 

Midnight came and went and Evan missed it. 

He was in the bathroom slipping his fingers into the finance woman’s panties, grateful that apparently Susan was a prepared woman because she had set out a bowl of condoms in the bathroom. The woman was wet and she kept saying she needed it now, and Evan really wished he had bothered to learn her name because fuck this was awkward she clearly knew his, but it didn’t matter because the whole thing was quick and dirty, pressing her back against the counter, her hands in his hair and her legs wrapped around his hips and Evan wished the mirror wasn’t there because he did not want to watch himself fuck this woman, he didn’t want to see her he didn’t want to exist and maybe he didn’t. Maybe he fucking didn’t. 

Evan knew he sure as hell didn’t want to exist. 

They finished and parted ways, and Evan returned to the bar, where Richard gave him a smarmy fucking grin and asked how Melanie had been. 

“Who?”

Richard grinned. “Didn’t even learn her name. Damn, Hansen, I really misjudged you when we first met. I thought you were far too wholesome for that.”

Evan bit back the comment on his tongue, instead ordering another drink and heading for the door. 

He wound up at a bar he didn’t recognize, a gay bar, and ended up chatting with a brown-eyed man wearing a paper top hat who introduced himself as Brent. They did a few shots of tequila and then Brent introduced Evan to his friend Addison, an adorable and tall enby with wavy brown hair to their shoulders. 

Evan stuck with them, getting drunker and drunker, following them from the bar to a club to another bar to finally a hotel room. They were here for the holiday; flown in from Chicago. 

Evan wasn’t one hundred percent sure how he found himself pressed between the two of them as the sun rose, his hand between Addison’s legs, fingering them while Brent fucked Evan from behind, but that was where he was and it was a distraction, it helped, it numbed things when Addison begged him to make them come, it numbed things when Brent finished on the small of Evan’s back, it numbed things when Addison dropped to their knees to suck him off, and if Evan ignored their binder he could almost imagine it was Connor there, on his knees, making Evan feel good, he could almost imagine he was safe and home again…

He woke up on the sofa in his apartment at noon on January first, thankful it was a fucking federal holiday. He had a pounding headache and, as he learned when he went to the bathroom, a few bruises on his hips and lips. 

He felt sore and embarrassed. He had been… really fucking drunk. Evan had been really drunk and also high and… fuck. 

Evan threw up in the sink and began to cry because he didn’t want this he didn’t want this he… he wanted Connor. He missed Connor he wanted Connor he loved Connor not these people he had met and fucked who meant nothing, he wanted Connor. 

He rinsed his mouth out when he finally calmed down and went into his room. He stripped off his clothes and cracked a window, deliberately disobeying Mattie and Alex’s request that he not smoke inside the apartment. He smoked nervously, looking at his phone and staring at the contact for Connor Murphy. The one he had entered in March, almost three years ago, the one he had exchanged so many texts and calls with… 

The last text exchange on Evan’s phone was so unremarkable it almost made him laugh. It was when Evan was staying with Connor while he recovered. He’d had to go into court but he texted to ask Connor if he wanted Evan to pick food up later. 

Connor responded that they had tons of food from Martha and Gladys and then apologized for any typos because he was using text-to-talk because his hands weren’t being cooperative. 

In the end, Evan had gotten out of court early. Came back and happened upon Connor telling Andi about the other reality. About Connor killing himself to get back, about the thing with Parker and… 

Evan stared at that text for a long time. Chain smoked three cigarettes. On the last one, rather than flicking the butt out the window, Evan held out his arm and extinguished the cigarette against the flesh inside his elbow. He hissed a little at the pain, at the burn, but he appreciated it because it was a reminder. A reminder that he was no good for Connor. A reminder to stay the fuck away. 

Evan had needed a lot of reminders lately. There were a lot more marks than there used to be. He was practically polka-dotted now, polka-dotted by cigarette burns. 

What a fucking morbid image. 

* * *

The first week of the new year brings a cold snap and the store is basically dead. Leslie’s on vacation, visiting her parents upstate, and Connor’s covering her shifts, even though there is basically nothing to do. Everyone’s clearly staying inside like sensible people, because it’s really, really fucking cold. 

Maureen and Otis both seem on edge the colder it gets, and it takes Connor longer than it should to figure out why. 

“It’s hard for people when it gets cold like this,” Connor says quietly. “Isn’t it?”

Maureen nods. “Yeah.” She’s doing some tidying up while Otis plays the guitar in the sunshine spot and Connor sits with him, just hanging out for a bit. 

“There’s always someone who slips away,” Otis says unhappily. “Someone who doesn’t make it. And it hurts, it really does, but there’s always…”

Maureen looks pained. Doesn’t look Connor in the eye. “There’s always that relief that it isn’t you.”

Connor sighs. “Yeah.” He looks at the two of them. “I want to help. How can I help?”

“When it gets this cold, it can be good just to have somewhere warm to go,” Maureen says. “I used to hang out in the library, like, all the time. Hide in the bathrooms when they were closing so I could sleep in the stacks after hours sometimes. I got caught a few times, but not as many as you might think.”

“Most businesses don’t want homeless people around,” Otis says frankly. “I used to get asked to leave a lot.” Maureen nods. 

“Fuck that,” Connor says instantly. “I’m not going to kick anyone out of my store unless they’re actively lighting things on fire.”

“Paper is flammable,” Maureen agrees. 

Connor frowns. He doesn’t like this. Doesn’t like the idea of people freezing outside, of people being cold. 

He remembers being cold all the time. How much it hurt, stung, sapped all the energy out of him. 

“Soup,” he says suddenly. “I could make soup.”

Otis looks at Connor and smiles. “Yeah?”

Connor shrugs. “Like, mugs of soup? People could come and hang out in the warm bookstore and eat some soup and get warm and maybe… I don’t know, it’s maybe stupid, but they’d at least be warm for a little bit?”

“It’s not stupid,” says Otis. “I like it.”

“You’d need to get a permit, probably,” says Maureen thoughtfully. “I don’t know what the laws and stuff are around food.”

Evan would know. 

He’d know all about the permits and food safety and rules and…

“I’ll ask my dad,” Connor says after a moment. “He said I could ask him about anything I needed for the store. He could help.”

Maureen grins widely. “This could be really cool. It could help a lot of people.”

“I hope so,” Connor says. 

The next day, the store’s still basically dead. Connor takes the opportunity to do some deep cleaning of the shelves. Moving stock and making sure everything gets a good thorough clean out. Washing some interior windows. That sort of thing. 

Jax goes on a lunch break and Connor keeps cleaning. He’s busy trying to dust off some higher shelves by standing on a ladder when all of a sudden he feels the ladder shake. There’s this terrible swooping feeling in his stomach as he thinks he’s about to collapse when there’s someone holding the ladder steady. 

Connor looks down to see a guy with short brown hair and a beard holding the ladder. He smiles up at Connor. He has really striking eyes. 

Kind of a stormy gray. 

They’re nice. 

“Thank you,” Connor says, hurrying down the ladder, because that was way too close for comfort. “That could have been a disaster.”

“Honestly, that’s what I say to myself every weekday at 3pm,” jokes the guy. He has a nice smile. “I’m a middle school teacher.”

“That sounds about right,” Connor replies. He extends a hand. “I’m Connor. I’m not a teacher.”

“Nice to meet you,” says the guy. “I’m Nate.” His cheeks go a little pink. “You’re, uh, the owner, right?”

“I am,” Connor says, not really surprised, given how much publicity the Buzzfeed article had gotten them. “But even the owners have to dust shelves sometimes.”

Nate laughs. “I actually know one of your staff,” he says, his voice friendly. “Jax is a teacher aide at the school where I teach. They’re really good.”

“They’re great,” Connor agrees with a big smile. “They’ve been invaluable this past year.” He runs a hand through his hair. “I don’t know if you heard but I had some health problems over the summer. Having staff you can rely on when things go wrong is basically the holy grail of running a small business, I absolutely struck gold with Jax and Maureen and Leslie.”

Nate’s face softens into this sympathetic smile. “I heard, yeah,” he says with a nod. “I’m really sorry to hear about what happened to you. It sounds incredibly difficult.”

Connor doesn’t want to lie, but doesn’t want to talk about it. Not really. “I’m still standing,” he says, as cheerfully as he can. “Especially since I’ve got someone who’s willing to hold a ladder for me.”

“Probably shouldn’t be on a ladder that high while you’re alone in the store,” says Nate, his nose crinkling a little in concern. “Especially if you’ve been unwell.”

Connor winces. “Don’t tell Jax,” he says immediately. “They’ll kill me.”

“Don’t tell Jax what?”

Connor hadn’t even heard the bell over the door, fuck. He looks to see Jax holding a bag with what looks like some kind of stir fry in it, looking at the two of them with interest. 

“His plans for world domination,” Nate says easily. “Connor’s clearly worried you’ll steal them.”

“I do love me some world domination plans,” says Jax, and they’re smiling, looking between Connor and Nate with this satisfied look on their face. “Good to see you, Nate. How’s winter break treating you?”

“I had to go back to Tennessee for Christmas Day,” says Nate, his nose crinkling again. “Granny keeps talking about finding me a husband.”

“Does she now?” says Jax, looking like butter wouldn’t melt in their mouth. 

“Hey, at least she’s not giving you any compulsory heterosexuality bullshit,” Connor points out. 

Nate grins. “Oh no, Granny likes to tell people all about her gay grandson. Honestly, I think she just likes pissing off her bible study group.”

Jax just grins wider, looking at Connor like they’ve won something, and Connor isn’t a fucking idiot, he knows when he’s being set up. 

Nate’s cute and he’s gay and from the sounds of it, he’s single. And Jax knows him and likes him so he’s probably not a total asshole. 

“I can respect that,” Connor says with a grin. He focuses his attention on Nate. “So, down to business. Was there anything you were looking for in specific?”

“Something completely inappropriate for middle schoolers,” Nate says immediately. He turns a little pink. “I just need to read something I can enjoy as an adult. Not that I don’t love picking out cool novels for the kids, it’s just… I’m on vacation.”

“I’m sure we can find you something,” Connor replies, and with that, starts asking a few questions to get to know Nate’s tastes. 

Nearly an hour later, they’ve talked a lot and Nate’s buying five novels. Connor throws in a free tote bag and gives Nate the discount he gives teachers and people who work in literacy programs. Nate seems pleasantly surprised and smiles really big at Connor as he rings him up. 

“This is a really great place,” he says, looking around with appreciation. “Just… it’s a great vibe? I’ve heard about The Little Book Nook from some of our staff, but this is the first time I’ve visited.”

“Stop by any time,” Connor says immediately. “It’s the kind of place you should be able to just… hang out and be yourself, you know? I think it’s really important for queer people to have somewhere to go and hang out that’s not a bar.”

Nate nods, his eyes lighting up. “Exactly,” he says, almost excitedly. “It’s great that this place exists.”

Connor looks around and feels his chest twinge a little with pride. “Yeah,” he says fondly. “I love it here. Always have.”

“I hope to see you again soon,” says Nate, and he waves at Jax and smiles widely at Connor then heads out. 

Jax comes over to Connor once Nate is gone and grins. “So,” they say, in this deliberately casual tone. “Nate’s nice.”

“He is,” Connor says cautiously.

“Cute, too.”

“Well, yeah, I have eyes, Jax.”

Jax looks almost triumphant. “He’s a really lovely guy,” they say earnestly. “If you wanted his number, I’m sure I could get it for you.”

Connor feels his stomach twist again, but this time it’s a little more painful. “I don’t think so,” he says softly. “He’s nice, but I…”

He trails off. 

Jax puts a hand on Connor’s shoulder. 

“He’s a nice guy,” Jax says, their voice soft and serious. “He’s kind, he’s thoughtful and I think you’ll find you have a lot in common.”

“I just don’t think I’m ready,” Connor confesses. 

Jax frowns a little. “It’s been nearly six months,” they say carefully. “Don’t you think it’s time to move on?”

Connor shrugs. “I…” He shrugs, then heads across the room to clean something else, anything else, because he can’t really process the idea. 

The idea of moving on. 

What he and Evan had…

It’s not the kind of thing you just move on from. 


	91. NINETY

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> "I would know… I would know if he died, I’d feel it."

After the discussion at New Year’s about Jax, Maureen and Otis moving in together, Connor’s a little surprised to see that it all falls into place rather quickly. The apartment in Zoe’s building is smaller than hers, but it’s not a health hazard or a glorified closet, and if they split the rent between the three of them it’s… not bad, for New York City. 

Otis confesses that while he loves the idea of having his own place, he’s not sure he can afford it. He’s been teaching guitar out of Connor’s spare room since he got his medication sorted and has a steady roster of paying clients, but it’s still not quite enough to cover rent and expenses and everything else he needs to survive. 

Connor does a bit of research into what financial support Otis should be entitled to as a veteran. He ends up talking to his dad about it. With his dad’s help, he gets Otis a pretty decent weekly payment that’ll keep him afloat. With the additional income from guitar lessons, plus any extra gigs, he should be able to make this work. 

After a conversation with the landlord where Connor offers to co-sign the lease, the three of them have an apartment to call their own. Connor, Zoe, Leslie and Camille help them move in and it’s a much nicer move than the time Connor and Jax helped Maureen move. 

No loud roommates, no mushrooms in the shower. Just a clean, safe place for them to rest their heads. Connor’s going to miss the company of having Otis around but he’s glad he knows he’s safe. He trusts Maureen and Jax to look after him, though he does take the two of them aside and give them a heads up about what to expect. 

“If you need anything, if you’re ever worried, you call me,” Connor says to Jax firmly. “Okay? Any time, day or night, I will be there as soon as I can be.”

Jax gives this little smirk. “Thanks, Dad.”

Maureen jabs Jax in the side with her elbow and goes bright pink. “Sorry,” she says to Connor. “Jax has daddy issues.”

Jax snorts. “We all have daddy issues, I’m not special.”

“I do call you the bookstore kids,” Connor says with a smirk of his own. “And this is probably the closest I’m gonna get to actual parenting, so… sure, why not?”

“Told you he’d adopted us,” Jax says to Maureen, who rolls her eyes then kisses them.

Connor, Jax, Maureen and Otis all eat pizza in the tiny living room of the new apartment together and have a few beers before Connor reluctantly realizes he’d better get home. Otis offers to walk him out of the apartment and down the stairs. Connor lets him. 

He figures he just needs a moment. 

When they get to the ground floor, Otis looks at Connor, this look in his eye he can’t quite figure out. “I’m never going to be able to thank you enough,” Otis says quietly. “But thank you. Thank you for everything.”

“Of course,” Connor says simply. “Thank you for letting me help you.”

Otis pulls Connor into a tight hug and doesn’t let go for a long time. There’s something almost sad in his expression when he finally pulls away. “Don’t forget how strong you are,” Otis says fiercely. “Don’t forget, okay? You can’t let yourself forget. Remembering will keep you safe.”

There’s a chill that goes through Connor at his words. 

“Okay.”

He walks home. It doesn’t take long, which is good because it’s snowing. Not a ton, just a little - this light, gentle snowfall. When he gets back, he lets himself into the bookstore. 

Takes his meds, feed Edgar, gets into his pajamas and crawls into bed. 

Stares at the ceiling for a while. 

Closes his eyes. 

He’s in the middle of the city, on a street he can’t quite place. 

All around him, people are going about their days, walking fast, pushing past him like he’s not there. 

No, not past him. 

Through him.

A guy in a suit walks right through him. 

It feels… weird. 

Weird and surreal and…

It’s warm. Warmer than it was, warmer than it should be. There are leaves on the trees, all gold and red and brown. 

It’s October. 

Somehow, he knows it’s October, which doesn’t make any fucking sense because it was snowing, it was January, it’s…

Connor catches a glimpse of blonde hair. Turns to see Heidi Hansen walking toward him. Her eyes are red, her nose is pink and she’s carrying a small bag, slung over her shoulder. He manages to get out of the way just before she walks right through him. 

None of this makes sense. It doesn’t fucking make sense, but he knows Heidi, he recognizes her, it’s the only thing here he actually recognizes and knows. 

So he follows her. 

Follows her through the city streets, streets he almost but doesn’t quite know, and he’s starting to recognize them as he continues. Recognize them from what feels like a lifetime ago. 

The offices of McLaren, Simon & Hunt. 

Evan. 

Heidi keeps walking and Connor keeps following her, into the building and into the elevator, his heart pounding in his chest, this awful feeling of anticipation and dread rising up in him because he’s going to see Evan, Heidi’s on her way to see Evan, she has to be, and Connor hasn’t seen him in so long. 

Not in real life, anyway. 

Evan’s in his dreams almost every night. 

This could be a dream, Connor realizes, but it feels real. 

Feels like… something. 

He doesn’t know for sure. 

Heidi tells the receptionist she’s here to see Evan, and the receptionist leads Heidi through the building and Connor follows. People look at Heidi as she passes, frowning a little at her jeans and sneakers, her beaten-up leather jacket, the duffel bag slung over her shoulder. 

But no one looks at Connor. 

It’s like he’s not even there. 

“Mr. Hansen?” says the receptionist. “You have a visitor.”

“I’m not expecting anyone,” comes a familiar voice, and Connor can’t help himself, he has to head toward the office, toward the source of the voice. 

“It’s your mother,” says the receptionist, sounding a little uncomfortable. Connor tries to slip past her but ends up going through her. Right through her. 

Connor looks at Evan, sitting at his desk. He has dark circles under his eyes and he’s pale, paler than he should be if it’s only October. He still has freckles, though, scattered across his face like constellations. Upon closer inspection, Connor can see that Evan has a black eye. 

His stomach churns painfully. He hates this. Hates the idea of Evan in pain, hates seeing him like this, pale and injured and… 

Evan’s sitting stiffly, too, and Connor thinks he can see faded bruises around his neck. 

“What happened?” Connor demands, sitting on the edge of Evan’s desk, trying to reach out to touch him. “Evan. What happened to you?” 

Evan doesn’t look at Connor. Doesn’t show any sign of recognition, any sign of seeing him. He just looks at the receptionist. “Alright,” he says, frowning a little. 

He sounds so fucking tired. He blinks wearily. As Heidi steps into the room and shuts the door, Evan’s eyes widen and he gets to his feet, his face tight with concern. 

“Mom?”

Heidi’s crying. 

It makes Connor’s chest ache, seeing Heidi cry. She looks at Evan, her face horribly sad. She blinks. Evan’s frown deepens. His voice is even quieter when he speaks again. “Mama?” 

Heidi’s voice shakes. “Baby. Have you been online at all in the last few days?”

Evan shakes his head. “No.”

Heidi nods, her eyes spilling over with tears. She moves toward Evan, walking around his desk and pulling him into a tight hug. 

Connor sees Evan take in a sharp breath, let out a hiss of pain, and he feels it like a physical stab to the chest. 

“Evan,” he says helplessly. “Are you hurt? What’s going on?”

“Are you hurt?” asks Heidi, pulling away slightly, eyes big and sad. 

“I’m okay,” Evan says quickly. He looks terrified. “What’s going on? Why are you here? Is everything okay?”

Heidi shakes her head. “Baby… you might want to sit down.”

Evan stares at her. “What? What’s going on?”

There’s a buzzing in the air. Static-y, unreal. 

The now-familiar feeling of taking a bite into aluminium foil. 

Evan sits down, another flash of pain shooting across his face, and Heidi sits on the edge of the desk, right next to Connor. 

She doesn’t acknowledge him. 

Doesn’t see him. 

Heidi reaches out and takes Evan’s hand, holding it tightly. “Baby I am so, so sorry. I… Evan, Connor…” 

Can she see him?

“I’m here,” Connor says hurriedly, reaching toward Heidi, toward Evan. 

His hand goes right through them. 

Heidi’s eyes spill over with tears. 

Evan stares at her, horror all over his face. 

Heidi looks at Evan, her face so, so sad. “Evan. Baby. Connor… he was back home, staying with Cynthia so he could recover.”  
Evan nods. So does Connor. 

That makes sense. That’s where he is, where he’s supposed to be, he…

Something isn’t right. 

Something is wrong. 

Horribly wrong. 

Heidi continues, her voice shaking. “He… collapsed. Last night. His… His heart stopped. They couldn’t resuscitate him. I am so sorry baby but… Connor died.”

* * *

Evan frowned at his computer, his broken rib aching as he tried to shift his position to be more comfortable. He wasn’t getting anything done today, he was distracted, his head buzzing with television static, like dial-up internet or an old-school busy signal, and his ribs were screaming and his face ached. He wasn’t getting any real work done, Evan was just staring at his computer and trying to force his brain to work. 

“Mr. Hansen?” Evan looked up to see Dawn standing in the door of his office. “You have a visitor.”

“I’m not expecting anyone,” Evan said back, frowning deeper. He hadn’t forgotten about a client, had he? He had this nagging feeling of forgetting in his head, under the white noise, the fog of discord. 

“It’s your mother,” Dawn said, undeterred. 

Fuck. What the hell was his mom doing here? Evan looked down at the calendar blotter he kept on his desk, confirmed it was only October, it wasn’t Thanksgiving, he hadn’t told her he knew he’d ruined her life yet…

That was a weird thought. 

Evan flicked it away, irritated, and looked back at Dawn. “Alright,” he said wearily, frowning again. What could his mother possibly want from him? 

Evan blinked, suddenly self-conscious, as if somebody were watching him sit here stiffly. Nobody was here. Dawn was gone. His mom was walking in. Nobody was watching. 

Nobody was watching, Evan reassured himself. 

His mom had a duffle bag over her shoulder. Her nose and eyes were red, like she’d been crying, and she looked… older somehow. Older and fragile and Evan immediately got to his feet because this was his mother, his mom, she was hurting and he had to do something. “Mom?” he said softly when she stepped into his office, shutting the door. 

His mom held tight to the bag she carried. She was crying, his mom was crying and Evan felt his heart leap to his throat, he didn’t know why, but something was wrong was horribly wrong. 

His mom sniffed, blinking a few times. She was looking at him like she had never seen him before and Evan had this sudden rush of fear that he was invisible to her, that he didn’t exist to his mother. 

“Mama?” He tried, his voice quiet. 

“Baby,” His mom said, her voice tremulous and heartbreakingly sad. “Have you been online at all the last few days?”

Evan shook his head. “No.” 

She nodded to herself. His mother circled his desk, coming around and pulling him into a hug, tight and solid and so fucking painful because Evan’s rib was fucking broken, and he hissed but didn’t pull away. 

“Are you hurt?” She asked, loosening her grip. 

“I’m okay,” Evan said quickly. “What’s going on? Why are you here? Is everything okay?”

His mom shook her head, this pained expression on her face. “Baby… you might want to sit down.”

Evan’s heart dropped. “What? What’s going on?”

His mom put her hand on his arm. Evan sat down, the movement painful, and his mom perched on the edge of his desk, taking his hand and squeezing it tightly. “Baby I am so, so sorry. I… Evan, Connor…” She stopped, tears spilling out of her eyes. “Evan. Baby. Connor… he was back home, staying with Cynthia so he could recover.”  
Evan nodded, a lump forming in his throat. 

“He… collapsed. Last night. His… His heart stopped. They couldn’t resuscitate him. I am so sorry baby but… Connor died.”

Evan stared at her, numbly, the information not processing. Everything faded down to a dull whine, a rush of white noise, and Evan felt watched he felt watched but not by his mom who was rubbing his hand, crying, saying words that he couldn’t hear, her lips moving but the information not processing, nothing registering, it was just white noise white noise white noise. 

The sound all rushed back in at once. His mom was saying something about how Zoe didn’t want Evan at the funeral, but she could take him home and he could see Connor before the service, say goodbye, see him one last time and that was wrong that was wrong Evan knew it was wrong Connor was fine now he was fine he was fine because Evan had left he’d left to keep Connor safe Connor was okay he was okay he had to be okay. 

“No,” Evan said, shaking his head hard, tears coming now fast and hot and surprising. “No that’s wrong. Connor’s… he’s okay. He was getting better. He’s not dead.”

Evan’s mom shook her head, crying harder. “I am so sorry sweetheart. Connor died. He died.”

“No,” Evan gasped, hanging onto her hand tightly, too tightly. “No that’s wrong… Connor can’t be dead. I would know… I would know if he died, I’d feel it. I’d feel it… he can’t be dead.”

His mom squeezed his hand tightly, and then she pulled out her off-brand smartphone. She navigated to facebook and pulled up Connor’s page. It was full of comments that did not make sense. People saying they would miss him. Old photos of Connor, photos of him at the bookstore, pictures of him and Edgar, “rest in peace” filling up the screen. 

“No,” Evan said weakly, crying harder. “No no no he can’t… he can’t… no.”

“I know baby,” his mom said, wrapping Evan into a tight hug and it hurt it hurt so much but he wasn’t sure if it was his broken rib or his heart breaking into a thousand pieces, like a paper napkin shredded, like a mirror shattering, like the bone of an arm snapping when it hit the ground. 

“No, he can’t… He can’t die. I love him. Mama, I love him, he can’t die,” Evan sobbing, choking, and his mom held onto him tighter and tighter and someone was watching, Evan could feel eyes burning him, he could tell he was being watched but there was no one but his mother to see, there was nobody here, and Evan couldn’t breathe he couldn’t breathe and he hoped, stupidly, that his mom’s embrace had further fractured his broken rib, had caused the shards to impale him from the inside, that his lung was collapsing and he was actually dying because he couldn’t be alive not without Connor not in a world without Connor. 

“Baby, please, you need to breathe,” his mom said, her voice coming to Evan from far away far far away, underwater across an ocean of despair this wasn’t real he wasn’t really here Connor wasn’t dead he wasn’t dead he couldn’t die not without Evan if he died Evan died if Connor died Evan died. 

“You’re having a panic attack,” his mom said, her hand on his shoulder, and she went into his bag, found the mostly empty bottle of Xanax and pushed one into his hand and Evan tried to stand, he gasped and gasped and gagged as he took the pill, tears and snot and spittle mingling on his face as his legs gave out and he collapsed to the floor, horrible soul wrenching screams coming from somewhere filling his ears like water when your head was shoved under filling his head and his lungs and his eyes and it was him he was screaming, he was sobbing and screaming and protesting he wanted Connor he wanted Connor he loved him he loved him he loved him he loved him. 

His mom just sat on the floor with him, cradling Evan in her arms like he was small, like he was still a child, and he just kept sobbing and screaming and gasping and then, as sudden as it all came on, the gray blankness of the Xanax took hold and Evan could breathe easily. He felt like his screaming and panic and sobs had all been walled off, hidden behind soundproof glass, and he was blank and quiet and his mom kept petting his hair and saying how sorry she was, wiping her face sometimes. 

Before long, she started speaking in a calm, low voice. 

Zoe had power of attorney and refused to let Evan attend the funeral. It would be held back home. 

Larry had managed to convince her that Evan should get to come and say goodbye. 

“So I’ll stay with you tonight. We’ll pack your things up for a few days. You’ll come home with me… maybe once you’re there, Zoe will change her mind.”

“I k-killed him,” Evan said to his mom, hiccupping and horrified at the truth of the words. “I killed Connor.”

“No. No baby, you didn’t. You didn’t. He was so sick, sweetheart, he was really sick and he just didn’t make it.”

* * *

Connor watches Evan break down in his office and thinks to himself that this isn’t right. 

This isn’t right.

“This isn’t real,” he tells Evan, over and over again, trying to let him know that he’s here, he’s okay, that this can’t be happening. 

Because it doesn’t make sense. It doesn’t…

He was getting better. 

Connor knows he was getting better, he…

“I’m not dead,” he announces, but nobody can hear. 

He’s not dead. He’s not.

Only… 

Is he?

No one can see him. No one can hear him. He can walk right through people, he…

Oh god,  _ is _ he dead?

“No,” Connor says, shaking his head, trying desperately to reach out to Evan, who’s crying and shaking on the floor in his mother’s arms. He watches helplessly as Heidi makes Evan take a Xanax, watches as his screams and crying subsides and he’s just… blank. 

Like he’s not really there. 

Heidi pets his hair and talks to Evan in a low, soft voice. 

“There’s going to be a funeral back home,” she says, her voice sad but even. “Zoe has power of attorney and… she’s said she doesn’t want you at the service, but Larry managed to convince her that you should get to come and say goodbye. Before they…”

Heidi trails off. Wipes her face. 

Before they put him in the ground, Connor realizes. That’s what she’s trying to say. 

He has a sudden image in his head of looking at Evan across his own grave, an Evan without a black eye, an Evan who calmly tells him that he’s going to die soon. 

He…

Oh god. 

Oh god. 

“So I’ll stay with you tonight,” Heidi says, her voice still so steady. “We’ll pack your things up for a few days. You’ll come home with me… maybe once you’re there, Zoe will change her mind.”

Connor doubts it. 

His sister is stubborn. 

Fuck. Zoe. 

He wishes he could see her, wishes he could tell her that he’s okay, that they’d got it wrong somehow, that he’s…

He’s what, exactly? 

A ghost? A shadow? 

All that’s left. 

“I k-killed him,” Evan says, his voice thick with grief, choking the words out like they’re causing physical pain. “I killed Connor.”

“No. I’m right here,” Connor says immediately, trying to reach out to Evan once again.

Heidi looks… devastated. Just fucking devastated. “No,” she says, her voice firm and soft. “No baby, you didn’t. You didn’t. He was so sick, sweetheart, he was really sick and he just didn’t make it.”

“I’m right here,” Connor says again, quieter this time, because…

He didn’t make it. 

He…

He didn’t make it? 

Connor remembers being at home. Remembers feeling hopeless, remembers missing Evan, remembers after fighting and fighting and fighting he’d just… given up for a while. 

Just… existed, barely. 

Had… had he done this to himself? Had he…

Had he let himself disappear? Let himself give in to the pain and the heartbreak, the loss and the brutal, harsh reality of the unreal situation he’d found himself in and just… let go?

“No,” Connor says aloud. “That’s not what happened. This… this isn’t right.”

As he says the words that nobody can hear, he can’t escape the feeling that he can’t be one hundred percent sure. 


	92. NINETY-ONE

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> "I’m scared of dying alone."

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> TW: Suicide attempt. Please keep yourselves safe, friends.

Evan let his mom lead him through the motions of emailing his bosses and saying he would be out for the rest of the week. She called a Lyft and they took it back to his apartment. She convinced Evan to pack up some nice clothes. His mom kept giving Evan glasses of water and he kept drinking them mechanically, thinking with a sense of morbid fascination that at least then he’d still be hydrated enough to keep crying. They both talked to Alex and Mattie and Evan watched them cry with a detached sense of guilt. Alex was distraught, crying on Evan’s mother’s shoulder, sobbing and screaming and Evan hated it so much he hated it all it was wrong it was wrong it was wrong it wasn’t supposed to be like this. 

He had left to save Connor. To keep him safe. To keep Connor from ever leaving Evan again and now he was dead, he had died, he was gone and Evan couldn’t… he couldn’t feel it. Not really. He couldn’t feel this he refused to feel this. 

It was wrong. 

He knew it was wrong. It was so wrong. 

Out of the corner of his eye, for a second, a blip, he thought he saw Connor watching him with sad, haunted eyes. But then the second passed and he was gone. 

Hours passed. Somehow. One minute it was late afternoon, and then suddenly it was evening and Evan’s mom was giving Evan something to help him sleep. “We have an early flight,” She said to him softly. “I’m staying in here with you tonight. You shouldn’t be alone.”  
Evan wearily agreed. 

He started to grab pajamas and then a thought occurred to him. 

Evan had a way to fix this. 

He had a way. 

“I’m going to go shower,” he said to his mom quietly. “I… I should shower.”

His mom nodded, agreeing. 

If they sat shiva, he wouldn’t be allowed for a week once the funeral ended. 

Connor wasn’t Jewish. Hadn’t been Jewish. There would be no shiva. At least not officially. He… Evan needed to fix this and a shower made an easy excuse. 

“I love you,” Evan told his mom then, because she had to know. 

“I love you.”

“Get some sleep,” he told her. “I’ll be right in, okay? Just need to shower and shave and change yeah?”

She nodded. Climbed into bed. 

Evan shut out the light. 

He walked to the bathroom, his chin held up defiantly. He had a way to fix this. He knew how to fix this. He had to fix this. 

Evan went to the medicine cabinet in the bathroom and found an unopened box of razor blades. He had switched to safety razors after Connor mentioned that he didn’t keep blades around since high school.

“What are you doing?” 

Evan blinked, surprised, seeing Connor in the reflection of the bathroom mirror. 

“I have to fix this.”

“No you… Evan what are you doing?”

Evan sighed heavily. He locked the bathroom door. 

Headed to the tub and turned the taps as hot as they would go. 

“Evan look at me. Stop. Please stop this isn’t real,” Connor said, begged, his eyes glassy. 

“You’re dead,” Evan said, shaking his head. “I need to fix this. I did this. I did this to you.”

“No, you didn’t,” Connor insisted. He went to grab Evan’s hand but his arm passed right through Evan, making Evan shiver. “Please.”

“I killed you,” Evan said, his voice shaking, his eyes tearing again. “And I loved you. And I am so fucking sorry.”

“I love you please don’t do this.”  
“I’m so sorry,” Evan said softly. “I thought I was protecting you I thought… I’m so fucking sorry.”

He rolled his sleeves up. There were some cigarette burns still healing. He had to be strategic, do this right. He had to plan this out properly, he only had one shot to do it right. 

“Evan please don’t.”

“I’m scared,” Evan said, detached. Removed. He just kept looking at this imaginary Connor, the failsafe his brain produced to keep him alive. “I’ve never been scared to die before. Funny, right?”

“I love you please don’t do this,” Connor repeated. 

Evan just looked at him for a long moment. He was so fucking beautiful. So beautiful and so… unreal. Imaginary. He wasn’t real and Evan had to remember that. Had to focus on that. He had killed Connor and he had to fix this. 

“Please Evan.”

“I love you,” He said finally. “I am so sorry.”

He took off his shoes. His socks. 

Evan left the rest of his clothes on. Climbed into the scalding hot water, hissing a little at the sudden shift in temperature. It was hot so hot that Evan felt dizzy, lightheaded, but the heat was supposed to… make it hurt less. Not that he was concerned about pain. Not anymore. Nothing could hurt worse than what he had done to Connor. Nonetheless, Evan had to do this carefully. He had read about it. If he severed a tendon he wouldn’t be able to finish. He had to be careful. 

“Please don’t,” Connor begged, on his knees beside the tub, trying and failing to touch Evan. 

“It’s okay,” Evan said. “I’m going to fix this. It’s okay. I love you, I love you so much.”

There was a lot of blood, and Connor was screaming, begging, and Evan’s hands shook hard when he moved to his other wrist, vertical and deep, whimpering a little because it hurt it hurt it hurt it hurt. It hurt more than he expected, more than he could handle, and Evan was shaking so fucking hard so hard he felt cold despite the heat of the water he felt cold all over. He struggled to stay focused to keep quiet to let his heart do the work it needed to do. It hurt it hurt it hurt. Connor flickered in front of Evan’s eyes. 

“HEIDI! ALEX! PLEASE, SOMEONE!” Connor shouted, screamed, his ghostly insubstantial hands trying to grasp at Evan’s wrists. There was so much fucking blood the water was pink with it there was so much blood and it hurt so fucking much but he knew he needed to be strong he needed to fix it he needed to fix it. “Please help! Please!” Connor cried, looking at the door. “Please, Evan, you can’t… you need to call for help you need to…” Connor looked frantically back at the door, like he might dart through it, like he might leave.

“Don’t… don’t go,” Evan said to Connor weakly, things blurring around the edges, feeling himself starting to drift. “Don’t… I’m scared of dying alone. I love you...”

“You can’t die you can’t die I love you you can’t die,” Connor said, repeating it like a mantra, and then everything faded, faded to black, and the last thing Evan saw was Connor’s face.

* * *

Connor watches in horror as Evan goes through the medicine cabinet. Pulls out a box of razor blades. 

Fuck. 

Fuck. 

Fuck. 

“What are you doing?” Connor asks, his voice desperate. Knowing that he couldn’t hear him, knowing that he couldn’t stop him, but needing to try anyway. 

Evan blinks. He looks at Connor in the mirror’s reflection. “I have to fix this,” says Evan, something determined in his voice. 

He can see him. 

Evan can see him. 

If Evan can see him, then maybe there’s a chance he can save him. 

“No, you…” Connor tries to reach for him. Tries to touch him. But it doesn’t work. “Evan, what are you doing?”

Evan sighs. He looks so fucking tired. He locks the bathroom door. 

Walks toward the bathtub. Turns on the tap. 

Fuck. 

Fuck. 

Fuck. 

Connor can see the steam rising from the bathtub. He feels sick, dizzy. It’s hard to breathe, hard to see, he can feel his heart racing too fast in his chest. “Evan look at me. Stop. Please stop this isn’t real.”

Evan shakes his head. “I need to fix this,” he says. “I did this. I did this to you.”

“No, you didn’t,” Connor says desperately, trying to reach for Evan’s hand. His arm passes right through Evan, right through him. He watches in horror as Evan shivers. “Please,” he begs. 

“I killed you,” Evan says, his voice shaking, his eyes tearing up. “And I loved you. And I am so fucking sorry.”

Connor has to stop this. He has to. He has to he has to he has to.

“I love you,” he tells Evan fiercely. “Please don’t do this.”

“I’m so sorry,” Evan says, his voice soft, his eyes so, so fucking sad. “I thought I was protecting you. I thought…” He trails off, tears trailing down his face. His voice broken. “I’m so fucking sorry.”

Evan rolls up his sleeves. 

Connor’s stomach tightens painfully, his chest is burning, he…

There are burns on Evan’s arms. Small, circular burns. Connor tries to reach out, tries to touch them, but he can’t, he can’t he can’t he can’t. 

“Evan,” Connor says again. “Please don’t.”

“I’m scared,” Evan says, his voice dull. He looks at Connor, this dead expression in his eyes. “I’ve never been scared to die before. Funny, right?”

“I love you,” Connor pleads. “Please don’t do this.” 

Evan looks at him for what feels like a long time, this long look that makes Connor feel like he’s being x-rayed. There’s something soft in Evan’s expression, soft and fond and… final. 

Like he’s saying goodbye with his eyes. 

“Please Evan,” Connor begs. 

“I love you,” says Evan, that finality still in his voice. “I am so sorry.”

Connor watches in horror as Evan takes off his shoes and socks and climbs into the tub. 

He thinks he’s going to be sick. 

It’s his worst nightmare coming true, it’s the moment in his own past that haunts him coming back, but it’s a million times worse because it’s Evan, it’s Evan it’s Evan it’s Evan and Connor can’t lose him, can’t lose him even though he already has, can’t watch him die oh god oh god oh god he’s going to watch him die. 

Connor gets to his knees beside the tub and reaches out, trying to grab Evan, trying to pull him out of the water, drag him to safety. 

But he can’t. 

“Please don’t,” Connor begs. 

Evan looks at him, his voice soft, his eyes resolved. “It’s okay,” he says gently. “I’m going to fix this. It’s okay.” Something in his face twists. “I love you, I love you so much.”

Connor doesn’t know when he started screaming but he can’t stop, he can’t fucking stop this, he can’t do anything but scream and beg Evan to stop, beg him to stop, he can’t do anything, he can’t touch him, he can’t stop him and there’s so much blood, the water turning pink and opaque. 

Evan whimpers a little and Connor feels a phantom pain in his own wrists because he remembers this, remembers how it hurt, it hurt more than expected, it hurt so fucking much and he never wants Evan to be in pain, never wants him to hurt, he can’t lose him he can’t he can’t he can’t he can’t.

“HEIDI! ALEX!” Connor screams desperately as he tries to grab Evan’s wrists, tries to stop this. “PLEASE, SOMEONE!” 

Evan doesn’t say anything, just blinks, his eyelids heavy, his face contorted in pain, and Connor can’t give up, can’t let him go, he can’t he can’t he can’t. 

“Please help!” Connor yells toward the door. “Please!” He turns back to Evan. “Please, Evan, you can’t… you need to call for help you need to…”

Can he walk through the door? Can he get to Heidi or Alex or Mattie, can he get their attention, can he-

“Don’t… don’t go,” Evan says, his voice faint. Connor turns back toward him, watching in horror as his eyes drift half-closed, as the life drains out of him. “Don’t…”

Connor reaches out to grab him. To save him.

Nothing happens. 

“I’m scared of dying alone,” Evan whispers, and Connor’s heart is breaking, it’s crumbling into a million pieces, it’s dissolving, shattering, spilling into the water like blood. “I love you.”

“You can’t die,” Connor insists, still trying to reach him, trying desperately to pull him out. “You can’t die. I love you. You can’t die.”

Evan’s eyes slip shut. 

They don’t open again. 

All Connor can do is watch as Evan’s head sinks under the water, his body still and unmoving. 

“No,” Connor says desperately, never giving up on trying to drag Evan out of the bathtub, a sick feeling in his stomach because this can’t be real this can’t be real this can’t be real. 

“Evan? Is everything okay?”

It’s Heidi, Connor realizes. She’s knocking on the door, she’s pulling at the door handle and Connor renews his efforts to reach Evan, to drag him out, but he thinks it’s too late, it’s too late it’s too late it’s too late.

It all comes in flashes. The lock on the door coming off at the handle. Heidi screaming. The sound of water splashing as they drag Evan out of the bath, attempts at CPR, Mattie pulling a screaming Alex off Evan’s body and moving her hand to his pulse point, trying to convince her it’s too late, he’s gone. 

Evan’s gone. 

He’s gone he’s gone he’s gone he’s gone. 

Connor wakes up to a cacophony of sound. 

He’s screaming his throat raw.

Edgar is meowing at the top of his little lungs.

And the doorbell in his apartment won’t stop fucking ringing. 

Edgar darts around Connor’s shoulders, still meowing frantically, and Connor wipes his face, which is wet with tears. 

He’s alive. 

He’s alive. 

Is Evan?

He looks at his phone. It’s January. Not October. 

A dream. 

It was a dream it was a dream it’s okay he’s okay they’re okay it’s…

Oh god. 

Oh god oh god oh god. 

His doorbell is still ringing. 

Edgar is still meowing. 

Connor drags himself out of bed, feeling like his limbs are made of jello, and heads to the PA, hitting the button to talk to whoever it is who’s outside. 

“It’s the middle of the night,” he says, his voice raw. “Who the hell is it?”

There’s no reply. 

Just an eerie silence. 

Connor shudders. Shivers. 

It feels like someone’s walking over his grave. It feels…

“Hello?” he asks again. 

Still no response. 

His hands are shaking. 

“Hello?” Connor tries, one more time. “Is someone there?”

Silence. 

Edgar climbs up Connor’s body and settles on his shoulder, butting his head against Connor’s cheek, giving him little kitty kisses. 

Connor manages to stumble a few steps to sit at the kitchen table. Sinks into the chair wearily. 

He can’t stop shaking. 

It all felt so fucking real. 

After a while, he gets his phone. Stares at Evan’s contact for a long, long time. 

He should call. Check to make sure he’s okay. 

He should call. 

Except Evan’s probably blocked his number. Evan doesn’t want to talk to him, Evan doesn’t love him, Evan…

Connor shakes his head. 

Drags himself back into bed. 

Sleep doesn’t come. 

* * *

Evan woke up with a gasp, coughing hard, his heart racing. 

He looked down at his wrists. 

No cuts. 

He looked outside. It was snowing. His phone said it was January. 

January… Not October.

Fuck. 

Fuck was it real was it real was Connor dead had something happened had he died had he left had he died?

Evan picked up his phone and frantically typed in “CONNOR MURPHY” into facebook. Nothing new. Just that BuzzFeed article. No “rest in peace,” no obituary, no signs he was gone. 

But Evan’s heart couldn’t slow down. 

He had… he had to be sure he had to check. 

He had to know he had to make sure Connor was alive that he wasn’t dead he couldn’t be dead Evan needed to be absolutely positive. 

He threw clothes on quickly, his hands shaking, phantom pain in his wrists as he pulled on an old pair of sneakers. Evan all but ran the familiar path to The Little Book Nook, not caring that it was late, that it was three in the morning, that he looked like a lunatic he had to be sure he had to know he just had to know. 

Evan rushed to the door outside the bookstore and hit the button that would buzz the doorbell inside Connor’s apartment. Again and again and again until finally, miraculously, Connor’s voice crackled on the other side of the PA. “It’s the middle of the night who the hell is it?”

Evan opened his mouth, holding down the button to speak, to say, “It’s Evan and I love you and I am so sorry are you okay are you alive I love you I am so fucking sorry.”

But his voice died. 

The PA crackled again. “Hello?”

Evan backed away fast, his heart beating so fucking hard. 

Connor was alive he was alive. 

“Hello?” Connor’s voice said again. “Is someone there?”

Evan’s heart desperately wanted him to push the button back and tell Connor it was him, let him know he loved him and he was sorry and that he was so glad Connor was alive and hopefully okay but he couldn’t. 

He couldn’t do it. 

_ Coward coward coward coward.  _

He loved Connor but couldn’t tell him. 

He left Connor so Connor couldn’t ever leave Evan again. 

Evan turned away from the bookstore. He walked away. 

When he got back to his apartment, Evan drank five cups of coffee. He refused to sleep. He could not sleep if that was what his brain wanted him to see. He refused to sleep. 

Instead, Evan scoured all of Connor’s social media pages until the sun rose, and then he showered. Went to work. 


	93. NINETY-TWO

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> “Do you want my number?”

When Jax and Maureen arrive to open up the store the next morning, Otis is with them. He looks tired, like he hasn’t slept well. The three of them come armed with coffee and vegan donuts. Otis and Connor sit in the staffroom while Jax and Maureen go through the opening procedures. Otis looks at Connor, his expression sympathetic. 

“I’m really fucking sorry.”

Connor blinks. “About what?”

“About what you saw,” Otis says quietly. “What you must have seen. I…. I know that one, I know how it goes. It’s like dominos. You fall, he falls.”

Connor feels a chill go through him. 

Takes a sip of his coffee and doesn’t say anything. 

“I don’t understand it,” he confesses. “I feel like I’m going crazy.”

Otis snorts. “Join the club. I’ll get t-shirts made.”

Connor winces. “Sorry. I didn’t…”

Otis actually smiles at that. “Dude,” he says matter-of-factly, “it’s okay. I’ve been, like, a full-on crazy person since I was nineteen.” He shrugs. “Probably earlier than that. When I was a kid, my teachers used to say I was an old soul, which is basically just a polite way of saying that I was super depressed.” 

Connor nods. “Yeah.” He lets out a sigh. “Whereas I was just kind of a little shit as a kid. Then super depressed as a teenager.” He laughs. “When I was seven, I got mad because my teacher wouldn’t let me be the line leader, and I accidentally pushed the printer off the desk. That turned into a full on rumor that I’d thrown a printer at a teacher that, like, followed me all the way through school.” 

Otis kind of laughs, this weird laugh. “When I was seven, I found my uncle dead in the bathtub.”

Connor stares at him for a long moment. 

“Please tell me that’s a joke.”

Otis shakes his head. Winces a little. “Nope,” he says, his tone deliberately light. “My mom’s brother lived with us for a bit after my grandparents died when I was young.” He shrugs, something helpless in his expression. “I don’t really remember much about Uncle David, only that he used to give me peanut butter cups. They were my favorite when I was a kid and he always had them. He must have gone and gotten them for me specifically, because he didn’t really like peanut butter.”

“Did he… was it…”

Otis looks at the table. “I remember there was a lot of blood.” 

“Fuck.” 

Otis shrugs again. “So yeah, that kind of fucked up little Otis,” he says, still in that light tone. “No wonder I’m a basket case now.”

“You’re not a basket case,” Connor says immediately. “You’re a survivor.”

Otis actually smiles at that. “I guess I am.”

Maybe a week after Otis moves out, Nate shows up at The Little Book Nook again. Connor’s not technically working the store floor that day but he’s there anyway, doing a bit of stocktake, trying to keep himself busy. 

He’s really fucking tired. He hasn’t been sleeping well. 

Nightmares. 

So many fucking nightmares. 

Maureen greets Nate when he arrives the way she’d greet a customer and he clearly says something about Connor, because moments later she’s pointing in his direction with this small smile. 

“Hi,” Nate says as he approaches, his cheeks a little pink. 

“Hi,” says Connor, who thinks his pink cheeks are really fucking cute. 

“I, uh… thought I’d stop by,” Nate says, smiling a little. “I was hoping I’d run into you again.”

“Yeah?” Connor asks, smiling back. 

“I mean, someone’s gotta keep an eye out for you if you insist on continuing to climb up ladders,” Nate points out, smiling even wider. 

“They are indeed perilous,” Connor replies. 

“Have coffee with me?” Nate blurts out, his entire face going pink. “You’re nice. You’re cute. You own a bookstore. Jax says you’re gay and single. I’m doing a terrible job of this.”

Connor feels something inside him twist. “Did, uh, did Jax happen to mention I had a bit of a bad breakup?” he says, a little awkwardly. “I mean, it was last August, but I’m still kind of… I don’t know if I’m over it.”

“It doesn’t have to be a big deal,” Nate says, his cheeks going even pinker. “I mean, obviously if you don’t want to-”

“I didn’t say that,” Connor interrupts, feeling his own cheeks go pink. “You’re… also nice and cute. And Jax has nothing but nice things to say about you.”

“Same here,” Nate says instantly. “I mean, Jax says nice things about you as well.”

Connor grins. “You get the feeling they’re trying to set us up?”

“Oh, absolutely,” Nate says, his smile becoming more real. “They’re a great person but subtle they are not.”

Connor takes this guy in. Looks at him carefully. 

Looks at his striking grey eyes, his soft-looking brown hair, the dimples just peeking out from beneath his beard. He’s about Connor’s height and he’s lanky, though nowhere near as thin as Connor is. He’s in this soft-looking sweater and a jacket and his nose is a little crooked, like it’s been broken at least once. 

He’s a teacher. He likes books. 

And apparently, he likes Connor. 

Connor thinks it’s probably best if he swears off lawyers for a while. 

Or, you know, forever. 

“Do you want my number?” Connor asks, trying to not sound like a complete idiot. “Maybe in the weekend we could grab coffee. Catch up and get to know each other.”

Nate’s face bursts into this big smile.

Connor likes it. 

A lot more than he expected to. 

This guy is nice. Jax says he’s kind and thoughtful. 

And he actually wants to spend time with Connor. 

It could be… normal, he realizes. He could have coffee with this cute guy like a normal person. They could see each other, see where it goes. No sex in hotel rooms so his husband doesn’t find out. No constant reminders of dying and dying and dying. 

“Sounds great,” says Nate, still with this big smile. “Definitely, yeah. Give me your number and I’ll text you.”

They pull out their phones. Connor gives Nate his number and Nate immediately texts him, with his name and a smiley face, and Connor saves his number. 

It could be normal. 

Connor could be normal. 

Maybe if he gets something normal, it might fill up the hole in Connor’s chest he’s been walking around with for half a year. 

Maybe. 

* * *

Evan hadn’t been sleeping much. 

Every time he slept, he dreamed about Connor and he woke up more crushed by what he had done than before. It was awful. So he wasn’t sleeping much. 

He drank a lot of coffee. Dipped into his old Adderall stash and debated asking Mattie or Alex to write him a new script. Dove into work even more so than before, crushing three small cases in just a few weeks. Even Richard was impressed. He remarked, “I’m getting what I paid for with you. I appreciate it.”

He had been staring directly at Evan’s crotch when he said it, but Evan chose to ignore it. Went and got a red-eye from the Starbucks in the lobby of the building in his reusable cup. Drank it black and went back to work. 

He didn’t leave until well after midnight. Alex and Mattie were home for a change and they looked at Evan with surprise. “Hey!” Alex said. “Long time no see, stranger.”

“Sorry, it’s been super busy at work. How are you two?”

Mattie smiled. “Good.” Her smile straightened a little. “We actually… our lease is up in April,” She said. “We weren’t sure… what with the new job, did you want to renew with us?”

Evan nodded distractedly because he needed a drink and they were home and watching. He didn’t want them to see him scoop up the whole bottle of whisky, but Evan preferred to keep the extras in the kitchen to fake like he had some self-control. “Yeah whatever works for you guys,” He said, keeping his coat on. He went into the kitchen and filled a coffee mug up with whisky so they couldn’t see what was in it. He faked like he was microwaving some water and grabbed a teabag when he stepped out of the kitchen. “Sore throat,” He explained. 

“Don’t get pneumonia again,” Alex said, her tone slightly too sharp to be a joke. 

“Ha yeah I won’t,” He said. “Night you two. Just gonna drink this and crash.”

He went into his room, changed out of his clothes and frowned. He hadn’t counted on them being home and now he was stuck in here pretending to sleep. Evan took a gulp of his whisky, cracking the window to let in the frigid January air, and lit a cigarette. He finished the whisky too fast, the alcohol burning on the way down, and he smoked anxiously because he was so fucking tired. He was so tired. 

He put the cigarette out on his right forearm today, hissing as he did. Evan knew he needed to sleep but he didn’t want to. He resisted it, like a tired little kid, keeping the window open so the cold would keep him awake. Evan pulled out his laptop and pulled up a report on sewage outputs, his eyes so tired, his eyelids threatening to slip closed. He fought against it, refusing sleep and the potential of dreams, taking notes diligently -

Connor’s teeth chattered beside him. Evan wrapped his arm around Connor tightly, trying to use his own body heat to warm him up. 

“Next time we want to do this, we are so taking a fucking Lyft,” Connor said, sounding annoyed. They were walking home from another one of Andi’s strange theater endeavors, an improv script that had been adapted into a thoroughly predictable musical called  _ Pheromones  _ and pronounced, apparently,  _ Pher-ah-monez. _

“You’re the one who wanted to see Andi’s show.”

“It was pretty stupidly hilarious,” Connor said, smiling. “But we shouldn’t have decided to walk. That was stupid. I’m freezing.”

He hated that Connor was so cold all of the time now. He hated it… Why did he hate it? 

Evan pulled Connor closer, pushing the thought out of his head. “I can call one right now,” He offered. 

Connor shook his head. “By the time it gets here, we’ll be nearly home.”

It had begun to snow, a bitter and biting snowfall that hurt Evan’s face. Connor however, seemed to be relishing in the quiet of the flakes hit with road and sidewalk. “It’s so pretty.”

“You’re prettier,” Evan countered, kissing the side of Connor’s head. 

Evan laughed a little when Connor rolled his eyes. “Shut up.”

“Nope,” Evan said, smiling. “You’re a pretty guy. My pretty boyfriend.”

“Oh my god,” Connor said, laughing and ducking out from under Evan’s reach. “You are so obnoxious.”

“I’m as obnoxious as you are pretty,” Evan said with a laugh and Connor giggled, reaching down and scooping up a handful of snow and throwing it at Evan. It was too cold for the snow to be much of anything but loose powder, so most of the snowball had disintegrated before it hit Evan’s shoulder. “Oh real mature,” Evan laughed. 

“Call me pretty again,” Connor said, gathering more snow in his fist. 

“Pretty,” Evan said. “Pretty boy. Prettiest boy in the world.”

Connor shoved the handful of snow into Evan’s face and Evan shook it off and smiled a lot, grabbing Connor and rubbing his cold nose against Connor’s. Connor smiled and kissed Evan’s mouth, and Evan broke away with a grin, having surreptitiously scooped up a handful of snow of his own and dumping it down the back of Connor’s coat.. 

“Hey!” Connor yelped twisting affair. “Objection, unsportsmanlike!”

“That’s not a real objection,” Evan said with a soft laugh. 

“It is on the streets,” Connor said. “Snowball fights are the Wild West. There is no law here.”

“So this is a fight?” Evan asked, beaming. 

“Of course,” Connor said. “And I’m winning.” He beamed Evan in the face with another handful of snow. The pair ran around and threw snow at each other, laughing loudly despite the early hours, despite the fact that they were too old for this, because they were having a good time, they were together and in love and -

Evan woke up shivering. 

He’d left the window wide open. It had started to snow and some flakes had crept onto his windowsill. 

Evan slammed the window shut and tried to go back to sleep, but he was so fucking cold. He was so cold all of the time and he knew exactly why. 


	94. NINETY-THREE

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> "You deserve something nice.”

Part of Connor feels stupid that he’s nearly thirty and he still has, like, zero experience when it comes to normal fucking relationships. 

That’s basically what’s going through his mind the whole time he walks from the bookstore to this tiny cafe Nate had recommended, which apparently does a good cappuccino. Connor doesn’t really have any opinions stronger than coffee = good, but apparently Nate has Opinions On Coffee, which is…

Well, honestly, Connor doesn’t really care. People can have Opinions on whatever it is they want to have opinions on. 

Scrambled eggs, for example. 

_ Stop it,  _ he tells himself. 

It’s cold out, but he’s in plenty of layers and he’s been trying to walk places more often. Get his strength back up. It’s hard in winter when the temptation to just stay inside his really fucking comfortably warm apartment is pretty strong, but his physical therapist says he’s gotta. 

Gotta work on those noodle limbs. 

Get that muscle tone back. 

Ugh. 

He’s never been one for exercise, so it’s all kind of dismal, but he owes it to himself and to his family to try to take care of himself. 

Eat things with iron. Get plenty of rest. Not push himself too hard. 

All that good shit. 

It was easier when Otis still lived with him. It was easier when Otis desperately needed looking after, because Connor could make himself do all those things because he had to make Otis do them, too. 

Otis is doing well. 

Really well. 

He and Jax and Maureen are settling into their new place. The three of them get along really well, and Connor thinks it’s super adorable. He also thinks it’s good for Otis to be hanging out with people his own age. Getting a chance to be a kid in his early twenties. 

Getting a chance to be normal, to have those experiences he’s been robbed of for so long. 

Otis is still at the bookstore a lot, still teaching guitar lessons from Connor’s spare room, so it’s not like he doesn’t see him anymore. 

It’s just different. 

Connor’s… lonely. 

Weirdly lonely. 

So he’s agreed to go on this coffee date with Nate. 

It had taken a lot of time to organize, in the end. Nate’s a busy guy with a busy life and Connor’s pretty busy too. There had been a couple of postponements, a couple of cancellations, and they’d all left Connor almost… relieved. 

He’s still not sure if he’s ready for this. 

But he probably won’t ever be ready, to be perfectly honest. 

When he gets to the cafe, he nearly runs into Nate, who’s clearly just arrived. His cheeks are pink from the cold and he’s smiling, this big smile that shows off his dimples. 

“Hey!” he says enthusiastically. “You made it!”

“I did,” Connor agrees, smiling back. It’s an infectious smile that goes all the way to his eyes, which are every bit as striking as he remembers. “It’s good to see you.”

“You too,” says Nate, his grin getting even wider. “Let’s get a drink, yeah? It’s fucking freezing.”

As far as first dates go, Connor knows he’s not an expert but he thinks this one’s going pretty well. Nate’s easy to talk to. Smart. Funny. Has interesting opinions. Clearly loves his job. They have similar taste in books. And he’s cute. Definitely cute. 

They end up talking for nearly three hours. When they finally decide to leave, Nate asks him if he’d like to do this again sometime. 

“Sure,” Connor says. “Yeah, okay.”

On arrival back at the bookstore, Connor notices that Jax looks smug. “How was your date?” they ask with this knowing grin. 

“Nice,” Connor says after a moment. “He’s… nice.”

“He is nice,” Jax says decisively. “You deserve something nice.”

Connor shrugs. Heads up to his apartment. 

Pours himself a glass of whisky and tries not to think about Evan. 

* * *

Evan woke up coughing hard, his throat in terrible pain, gasping for breath. His head was killing him and Evan realized he was shivering violently. He squinted at the clock, trying to make out the time. It was just after four o’clock in the morning. Evan was still shivering. He felt like shit. 

He tried to roll over and go back to sleep, but everything ached. Evan was having a hard time breathing. Everything hurt, hurt a lot, and he was shaking shaking shaking. 

Evan closed his eyes. 

His vision swam. 

He was still shaking. His chest hurt, his head hurt, and for a second, just a second… He thought Connor was with him. 

That wasn’t right. 

He’d left Connor. Made Connor hate him. He’d left left left left. 

“Hey, hey, you’re burning up,” Connor said softly, pushing the hair off of Evan’s face. 

“‘M fine,” Evan mumbled, coughing again. It rattled in his chest, felt like a thousand knives were stabbing his lungs. 

“Don’t be stubborn,” Connor said, and he was pulling back the covers, climbing into bed beside Evan, curling up next to him, pulling him close. “You need to rest.”

“It’s so cold,” Evan mumbled, turning over to look at him. 

“I’ll keep you warm,” Connor said softly. “Just close your eyes.” 

Evan sighed. “I’ve missed you so much.”

“I know love. I’ve missed you too,” Connor said gently. 

Evan looked at him hard, unsure if this was real. Evan wanted it to be real so badly. So fucking badly. He tilted his face slightly, wanting to kiss him, missing the feeling of Connor’s lips on his. 

“Evan, come on,” Connor said, sounding sad. 

“Please,” Evan whispered, his voice hoarse, the act of speaking hurting his throat. “Please I love you… Please kiss me.”

Connor touched his face gently. “I can’t.” He sighed, his warm breath ghosting across Evan’s skin. “I’m so sorry.” 

“Please,” Evan begged. “I’ve missed you so much.”

“You know I can’t.”

Evan felt himself tearing up. 

It wasn’t real. 

He was alone. 

He missed Connor so much, so fucking much. His head was screaming, and every time he coughed it hurt everywhere, it hurt fucking everywhere inside and out and he wanted Connor he wanted him back and he was so cold, so tired… 

Evan was so tired of fighting. 

* * *

Nate texts Connor the day after their date. 

Connor texts him back, and they just… keep texting. They’re not exactly having deep and meaningful conversations, and it’s not easy and comfortable the way it was with Evan, but it’s… nice. 

Nate is nice. 

Jax is exceptionally pleased with themself about it all. Keeps talking about Nate and Connor having dinner with them and Maureen sometime, which is so weird that Connor can’t really process it but also… sounds nice. 

Fuck, Connor’s getting so sick of the word nice. 

He’s never been someone who you could describe as nice. He’s not a nice person. He can be kind, sure, but nice? It’s… it’s different, it’s not the same as kind. 

Connor’s not being fair. 

Nate  _ is _ kind. He’s kinder than maybe he should be, patient with Connor’s skittishness, with the fact that Connor has no fucking clue what he’s doing in a relationship because he’s woefully inexperienced for nearly thirty. 

Before Richard, it was mostly just no strings attached sex with only the occasional repeat performance, and the thing with Richard was a huge fucking mistake that he only really kept going because he was so fucking lonely. It wasn’t a real relationship. He was a dirty secret. 

One of many. 

And Evan…

Fuck, how does it even compare? How can he even put into words what he and Evan had? The circumstances surrounding them meeting again were completely impossible, just so goddamned weird, and their friendship was… intense. 

It was always intense. Even when they were just friends, there was no ‘just’ about it. 

Connor thinks he loved him from the beginning. 

He knows he did. 

Does. 

He’s getting bad at lying to himself. Connor knows he still loves Evan. 

And part of him feels like it’s not fair to anyone to be doing whatever the hell it is he’s doing with Nate. 

But Evan doesn’t want him. Evan doesn’t love him, maybe he never did, and some days Connor can handle that, but other days it makes him feel like he’s being eaten up from the inside, like he’s being consumed with shame and sorrow. 

And at the end of the day, it’s nice to feel wanted. 

Even if it’s not by the person he wants. 

Nate shows up at the store on a Friday afternoon after school finishes. He’s in a warm looking coat, scarf and gloves and he smiles when he sees Connor. 

“I was in the neighborhood. Feel like grabbing a drink?”

Connor’s about to say no. 

“Yeah, sounds good.”

They head to this tiny bar around the corner from the bookstore. It’s a bar that Connor and Evan have been to before, and Connor kind of hates being there. It makes him feel weird, exposed, out of place. Nate seems to notice. 

“You okay?”

Connor tries to smile. “I’m fine.”

Nate frowns. “You just… it seems like you’re uncomfortable?”

Connor sighs. “Sorry. I used to come here with my ex, so it’s… weird.”

Nate nods. Looks a little sad. “I get it,” he says. “We can go somewhere else.”

“We don’t have to-”

“It’s fine, seriously.”

Half an hour and a cab ride later, they’re across town at a bar that’s not dissimilar from where they were, a bar Connor’s never been to. They both end up drinking whisky and talking for a couple of hours. Nate’s got stories about his students, Connor’s got stories about the customers, and they even get into a discussion about literacy programs, which is really interesting. It’s fascinating getting a teacher’s perspective. 

Evan always liked hearing about the literacy programs. He always asked really good questions, really wanted to know what was going on. 

Connor has got to stop thinking about Evan. 

They end up grabbing dinner at a thai place nearby, continuing their conversation. 

All in all, it’s a nice evening. 

It’s all nice.

Connor thinks it’s nice. 

Nate lives nearby, so he tells Connor he can walk home, but waits with Connor as he orders a Lyft. 

“We should do this again sometime,” Connor says. 

Nate’s whole face lights up and he nods. 

Then he leans in and kisses Connor. 

His beard is softer than Connor thought it would be. 

His lips are soft, too. 

It’s… nice. 

When Nate pulls away, his cheeks are a little pink and he’s smiling. 

“I’d like to see you again,” says Nate, his voice soft. “I’d really, really like that.”

“Me too,” says Connor, even though it’s… not quite true. 

He’d like to see Nate again, sure, it’s just…

It’s not the same. 

It’s nice, but he could live without it. If he never saw Nate again, he’d be… fine, probably. 

Christ, he’s such a fucking asshole. 

“Looks like your ride is here,” Nate says, and Connor follows his gaze to see there’s a car pulling up. He turns back to Nate, who’s smiling at him, his gray eyes fond. “I’ll text you?”

Connor nods. “Sounds good. Yeah.”

Nate is really nice. 

He’s nice, he’s here and he likes Connor. 

And Connor…

Doesn’t want to be alone. 

In a split-second decision, he leans in and kisses Nate. Nate with his soft beard, no rough five o’clock shadow, and his soft lips, not chapped. 

It’s not like kissing Evan. Not even a little bit. 

But it’s nice. 

Connor can live with nice. 

* * *

Evan knew he was sick but he had no time to slow down. He had three bigs cases in the works, a court appearance as co-counsel with Richard. He didn’t have time to be sick. He didn’t have time for anything but work. 

He refused to let himself be sick. So he kept downing cough syrup and Adderall and pushing through. Working hard. Forcing himself awake and smoking constantly even though it hurt his already raw throat. He needed to focus to stay awake to keep moving forward. 

Because whenever he slowed down, even for a moment, Evan felt like he was being haunted. 

Because Evan saw Connor everywhere. Everywhere. 

Out of the corner of his eye, on the street, when Evan went to the cafe for coffee. On the subway, on his walk home late at night, in the bars Evan frequented, the liquor stores he stopped at, the people he took home with wavy dark hair and skinny hips, everywhere Evan went, he swore he saw Connor. 

So Evan just needed to focus. To work. He needed to work so he didn’t see Connor. Didn’t think about Connor. 

Evan wasn’t allowed to think about Connor. He had made sure of that. He had walked away because Connor had broken him. He’d broken Evan, he’d left him, even though Connor had sworn he wouldn’t, and then he fucking killed himself to get back to Evan and it wasn’t okay it wasn’t okay it wasn’t so Evan wasn’t allowed to think about Connor anymore. Because he had broken Connor, hurt him beyond repair, fucked up everything.

Evan dragged himself to a pharmacy after working a fifteen-hour day, deciding he would buy some more cold medicine. He shivered from the cold, frowning a little as he realized he was also sweating profusely. He felt exhausted. Just exhausted. He kept shivering and sweating and… Fuck he needed to sleep. But he kept fighting off sleep because of the dreams. 

Dreams about Connor. 

What ifs and could have beens and… fuck. 

The dreams fucked with his head but Evan knew he needed to sleep. This was getting kind of bad. He was starting to genuinely see things, dark figures out of the corner of his eye, six-foot teenagers soaking wet and fully dressed bleeding, seventeen-year-olds with their left arms in casts and lopsided nametags, and Evan knew he had pushed too far this time. He thought about Charlie, saying he stayed awake for nine straight days and killed someone, and Evan felt like he could be next, he could hurt someone next so he needed to sleep no matter what kind of dreams it brought. Evan blinked slowly, his head swimming, as he stared down the aisle of cold meds, unsure what he should be grabbing. 

He saw him again and honestly, Evan was expecting it. 

Connor’s face swam before his, mouth tight with worry, his hand coming to rest on Evan’s shoulder, trying to steady him, saying, “Are you alright?”

Evan shook his head weakly, and he felt dizzy, off center, off his axis, gripping Connor’s jacket weakly. “I miss you,” he mumbled, his words slurring. “Don’t… please don’t go.”

“I’m not going anywhere,” Connor said softly. 

“I miss you,” Evan repeated, his voice faded, soft, broken. “I miss you so much I’m so fucking sorry… Please don’t go. Don’t leave again.”

“I won’t. I’m not.”

Evan stumbled forward, wanting to touch him back, wanting his arms around Connor when things fell suddenly out of focus. The world spun on, wildly, madly, and Evan’s legs buckled under him…


	95. NINETY-FOUR

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> "I can’t just sit around being heartbroken forever. I have to move on.”

Something soft was batting at Evan’s nose. He blinked a few times, the room coming into focus. It was dawn, the room awash in grayish light, and Edgar was purring next to Evan’s ear. Evan blinked a few times, taking in the outline of the cat, taking in Connor in bed beside him, a soft sleepy smile on his face. 

And then Evan’s stomach dropped when he remembered what today was. What today meant.

Connor’s birthday. His thirtieth birthday. The anniversary of the time he and Evan had died and died and died. 

And Evan was terrified that Connor might not be… might not be his Connor. 

“Is it you?” Evan asked anxiously. “The you that knows me?”

Connor’s eyes went wide, and he looked just… so sad. So fucking sad. Like the thought hadn’t even crossed his mind. “Yeah,” he said, his voice hoarse. “It’s the me who knows you.”

Evan sat up, sleepy and unsteady, looking over Connor’s whole body, checking, making sure he was safe and whole and unhurt. Making sure he looked alright. Not too thin. Not fragile or breakable, not harmed or hurting or sick… “I love you,” Evan said, trying to keep his voice steady and soft. “I love you so much.”

Connor smiled and then he pulled Evan to him, kissing him soundly, and Evan melted into it, let Connor kiss him, wrapped his arms around Connor’s body, letting himself feel Connor pressed against him, letting his lips wander over Connor’s, letting himself have this even though it wasn’t real it wasn’t real -

Evan blinked a few times. 

Where had that come from?

When they pulled away, Evan smiled at Connor. “Happy birthday,” he said, pushing some hair out of Connor’s face. Pressing a kiss to his cheek. “How does it feel to be thirty?”

“Completely different to twenty-nine,” Connor said, rolling his eyes at Evan. “Overnight I have become a responsible, functioning adult. It’s a miracle.”

Evan laughed at him, then kissed him again, not wanting to break away or let him go. They kissed for a long time, not really leading anywhere, just kissing and touching, wrapped around one another, holding on tight. 

Connor rested his head against Evan’s chest, sighing contentedly. “I love you,” he said. 

“I love you so much,” Evan returned, kissing the top of Connor’s head. 

“Should we get up? Eat something?”

Evan sighed. “It’s early. We could sleep more.” Connor didn’t respond. “You had a hard time sleeping last night?”

“Yeah,” Connor said softly. 

“Okay,” Evan said, steadying his resolve. “We’ll get up. Eat something and watch a movie? How does that sound?”

“I love you,” Connor said, grinning at Evan, this big goofy smile that made Evan immediately suspect he was up to something. 

“What?” Evan said, smiling back at him. 

“I just love you,” Connor said, leaning in and kissing Evan again. They headed into the kitchen where they drank iced coffee and ate cold cereal one handed because their other hands were intertwined. Edgar leapt up onto the table, purring and rubbing his face against Evan’s shoulder and then Connor’s. “Hey dude,” Connor said, letting go of Evan’s hand to pet the cat’s head. Edgar hopped up onto Connor’s shoulder, rubbing his little face against Connor’s cheek. 

Evan just watched them, overwhelmed by how grateful he was to be here. At this table, with the man he loved, with an adorable little cat. Evan felt his heart squeeze, almost painfully, at the thought of what it would mean to lose this. 

He couldn’t lose this. He couldn’t. 

Connor pressed a kiss to Evan’s knuckles and led him back to his bedroom. The pair of them climbed back into bed, Edgar curling up at the foot of the bed. Connor grabbed his laptop and he and Evan considered what they ought to watch. 

Evan suggested  _ Star Wars. _

Connor sucked in a deep breath. 

“What? Not feeling sci-fi?” Evan asked him. 

“No it’s… I wanted to talk to you about something,” Connor said, then he bit his bottom lip, looking a little nervous. 

“Is everything okay?” Evan asked, his heart thumping hard in his chest, suddenly terrified. 

“Yeah. I mean. I hope so.” Connor cleared his throat. “I want you to move in. Here. With me.”

Evan blinked a few times, absolutely stunned. “What?” He said, his heart pounding, his hands shaking a little. 

“Before you say no,” Connor said quickly, “I prepared a list of why I think you should move in.” Connor dove for his bedside table and returned with a handwritten list on a legal pad. 

Evan felt like his heart might beat out of his chest. “I’m not gonna… I mean. Okay?”

Connor cleared his throat. “Okay. Here it goes… Number one: You would save money on rent and pay back your loans faster.”

Evan laughed a little. “What? No, I’d obviously pay rent if I lived here.”

Connor grinned. “Yes, but… Look if you think about it, my mortgage is pretty reasonable. And I know how much you worry about your loans. We could work out a number that made sense for you so you could make more than just the minimum payments.” 

Evan smiled at him. “You are such a dork, oh my god.”

“Oh I’m not done. Reason number two: You’d get to work faster, since I live closer to your office.”

Evan smiled at Connor. “Are there more?”

“Oh yeah, I’ve got ten,” Connor said with this huge smile. “Number three: Edgar would like it if both of his dads live here.” 

Evan smiled wider. “I’m not Edgar’s dad,” He protested.

“Don’t say that in front of our son, it upsets him,” Connor quipped, still smirking. “Number four: Living here means regular home-cooked meals because we both know you’d live off of takeout and cereal if left to your own devices. Number five: I have better water pressure in the shower.” 

Evan smiled so hard his face started to hurt. 

“Number six: There are better restaurant delivery options here, like that one Turkish restaurant we like? It won’t deliver to your place but they will totally deliver here. Number seven: No roommates which means you can walk around naked whenever you like. Number eight: I’m the landlord so you don’t have to argue with him to get things fixed… and I am very bribeable with sex.” 

Evan kissed Connor’s cheek. “You are such a dork oh my god.”

“Number nine: If you live with me, you’ll never run out of reading material.” 

Connor turned his face to look at Evan, his eyes warm and soft and Evan just had to kiss him, he had to kiss him immediately, he was in love with him so fucking in love. They broke apart, breathless. 

“That’s only nine reasons,” Evan said, smiling at Connor. “You said you had ten.”

“Reason number ten why you should move in with me: Because I’m stupidly in love with you and I want you here. I want to spend all of my time with you. I want to fall asleep next to you and wake up next to you every day because I am so incredibly, stupidly in love with you.”

“I love you so much,” Evan said, and he was tearing up, he was so fucking happy. 

“So… will you? Move in with me?” 

Evan nodded. “Yes. Obviously, yes, I’ll move in with you.” 

Connor pulled Evan close and kissed him soundly. “You mean it?”

Evan nodded hard. “Yes. I love you so much. I… I’ve been hoping you’d ask, I… I didn’t want to say anything because it’s your place, and I didn’t want to assume or whatever but it felt like maybe you have been dropping hints and I wasn’t sure -” 

Connor cut him off with a kiss. “I love you. I want you here. I always want you here.”

Evan kissed Connor again. “I love you so fucking much.” He pulled Connor to him close, listening to Connor’s heart beating, holding on tight. “Don’t go anywhere on me, okay? I love you.”

“I love you.” Connor kissed the top of Evan’s head. 

“I love you I love you I love you.”

* * *

The whole day, Connor feels wrong. It’s like his skin doesn’t fit, this awful sensation of static, like dial-up internet or the buzz of an old television, like biting into tin foil. He can’t shake it, no matter what he does, so he tries to avoid the store floor and the bookstore kids because he’s so fucking on edge he’s sure he’s being a fucking asshole. 

Otis shows up halfway through the day, looking too pale, his eyes far away, and Connor can tell instantly that he’s not okay. 

That there’s something wrong. 

Connor guides him up the stairs to his apartment. Sits him down. 

Otis’s hands are shaking. He looks at Connor and blinks repeatedly, looking like he might burst into tears any moment. 

“Can you feel it?” Otis asks, something desperate in his voice. 

“Yeah,” Connor manages to say, his throat dry. “I… what is it?”

“Wrong,” Otis mutters. “Wrong wrong wrong wrong. It’s all wrong.”

“Do you want to stay here tonight?” Connor asks. 

Otis nods. Looks grateful and a little embarrassed. “I… Jax and Maureen are great, I… but they don’t  _ know, _ I can’t talk to them about it, I can’t... I know something’s wrong and I can’t…”

“I get it,” Connor assures him. “Do you want to lie down for a while?”

Otis shakes his head. “I don’t want to be alone right now.”

“Okay,” says Connor quietly. 

Edgar climbs up on Otis’s lap and purrs loudly. Otis starts petting him and visibly relaxes. Connor takes the opportunity to make hot chocolate. 

It’s bitterly cold outside, he can tell, but it’s warm in the apartment, and he’s glad Otis is here. 

He’s glad he’s safe. 

Connor hopes that Evan’s warm, wherever he is. 

Evan’s always warm. 

He and Otis end up on the sofa in the living room watching comedy specials for a while, trying to cut through the tension, the weird unsettling feeling, and Connor doesn’t realize how late it’s gotten until there’s a knock on the door. He goes to answer it to see Nate standing there, wrapped up in a large scarf, hat and gloves. His cheeks are pink and he smiles when he sees Connor. 

“Hey,” Connor says, a little hesitantly. “Did we have plans?”

“I thought I’d stop by,” Nate says, a little hesitant himself. “I figured maybe I could take you out for dinner, but it’s fucking freezing, so… maybe I could order in?”

“I, uh, I actually have company, so...” Connor says, a little apologetically. At that moment, Otis appears behind him, wearing one of Connor’s old hoodies and a pair of his fuzzy socks, looking at Nate with some suspicion. 

“Oh,” says Nate, sounding surprised and more than a little confused. “I, uh… hi?”

“This is Otis,” Connor says, gesturing to him. “He’s a friend of mine.”

“Hi,” says Otis, a little bluntly, and he frowns a little. “Who are you?”

“This is Nate,” Connor says, looking at Otis. “I told you about him. We’ve been… hanging out.”

Nate’s eyes widen, and he looks more than a little hurt. “Hanging out?”

“Seeing each other,” Connor clarifies, and Otis frowns even more. 

“Right,” Otis says, sounding almost irritated. “Okay, well… nice to meet you.”

It doesn’t sound even slightly sincere. Otis looks at Nate for a long moment, then heads back into the living room. Nate looks at Connor quizzically. 

“He looks kind of familiar.”

“He’s having a bad day,” Connor says, a little wearily. “It’s… sorry, I don’t mean to be an asshole, it’s just not a great time. So maybe we raincheck?”

“Okay,” Nate says, trying to smile. He leans in and kisses Connor quickly. “I’ll text you?”

“Sounds great.”

When Connor heads back into the living room, Otis kind of glares at him. Connor raises his eyebrows. “What?”

“I don’t like him.”

“You barely spoke to him.”

“He’s not supposed to be here.”

Connor sighs. “He’s nice,” he says quietly. “He’s… he’s nice, and he likes me, and… I can’t just sit around being heartbroken forever. I have to move on.” 

Otis just stares at him for a long moment. “Can you?”

Connor doesn’t know how to answer that.

It’s close to midnight when they finally decide they should get some sleep. Otis heads to the spare room and turns in. Edgar follows Connor into his bedroom and Connor goes to plug in his phone. 

He sees that there’s a missed call on his phone from a number he doesn’t recognize. Connor’s not exactly in the business of returning unknown numbers, but he’s got this feeling that it might be important, so he tries to copy the number down so he can look it up. 

But he’s tired, and somehow instead of looking up the number, he deletes it from his phone. Something in his stomach twists horribly. 

There’s nothing he can do about it now, he reasons. If it’s important, whoever it is will call back. 

He takes his meds, gets into his pajamas, brushes his teeth and heads to bed. 

Sleep comes easily. 


	96. NINETY-FIVE

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> “Please don’t leave. Don’t leave me.”

The Lyft driver probably thinks Connor’s completely insane, taking what is obviously a pot of curry on a drive through New York City, but doesn’t say anything, which is good because Connor’s starting to think he might be completely insane. 

It seemed like a good idea at the time but now that he’s actually doing it, he’s worried that he’s going to look like a fucking idiot, showing up at Evan’s work with hot food for him and his coworkers. It’s weird. It’s probably weird. He’s being weird. 

But last time he’d dropped off food for Evan on a Friday, Asher had made some comment about how Connor never brought food for him and Charles. And Connor’s not about to let that kind of thing slide. 

Which is why he’s in a Lyft with a pot of vegetable curry and a bag full of Tupperware containers full of cooked rice. He’s got enough to feed a small army, to be perfectly honest. He’s definitely gone overboard. 

Then again, the only reason Evan eats anything home-cooked is because of Connor, and he’s willing to bet that most young attorneys live on takeout and coffee. 

Mostly coffee. 

This is probably weird. 

Maybe he should just go home. 

But then what the  _ fuck _ would he do with all this curry? 

The Lyft arrives outside Schneider & Weiss and Connor thanks the driver and manages to maneuver himself out of the vehicle without spilling anything. The pot is wrapped in a gazillion tea-towels to stay warm and in a canvas bag, but he’s still carrying it with both hands, because it’s not exactly light. 

Good thing his limbs aren’t as noodley as they were last summer. 

_ Huh, that’s a weird thought, _ Connor thinks to himself. The only thing that happened last summer was his appendectomy, and that was weird, but had nothing to do with his limbs. 

As he walks to the door of the building Evan works in, he sees a figure in an expensive-looking woollen coat rush to open the door for him. It takes a moment to recognize him under the scarf and hat and gloves, but soon he realizes it’s Charles, grinning widely. 

“Dude,” he says with a fond smile. “You bringing lunch for Evan again? Trying to fatten him up?”

“He’d explode if this was all for him,” says Connor with a grin as he follows Charles toward the elevator. “I figured I’d actually listen to your husband and make enough for everyone this time.”

Charles’ eyes light up. “No fucking way,” he says, looking absolutely delighted. “Oh man, you have no idea how long it’s been since we ate something homemade, holy shit dude!” He looks at the bag Connor’s carrying with interest. “And it looks like it’s hot, oh my god, how the fuck are you real?”

“I’m an illusion,” Connor replies immediately. “An illusion holding a giant pot of sweet potato curry.”

Charles looks even more excited. “Evan brags about your sweet potato curry all the time,” he says with this huge smile. “Holy shit, dude, this is the best thing that’s happened all week.”

“Didn’t you just win a huge case?” Connor asks. 

Charles rolls his eyes. “I can’t eat a case,” he says dismissively. The elevator arrives at the right floor and Charles rushes ahead to open the door for him. “Let’s go to the kitchen,” he says enthusiastically. “There are bowls and spoons and shit, even though we all pretty much live on takeout.” He pulls out his phone as he guides Connor through the office, past the now-familiar faces hard at work. There are a couple more twists and turns that Connor’s used to as he’s never actually been to the kitchen, but soon enough they’re there. Connor puts the pot on the counter, pulls out the containers of rice from his bag and takes off his jacket. 

Barely thirty seconds later, Asher is popping his head around the corner into the kitchen. His whole face lights up at the sight of Connor’s giant pot of curry. “Holy cats,” says Asher in delight. “Charles wasn’t kidding, you could feed an army with that.” He practically skips into the room and pulls Connor into a big hug. “You are a god amongst men.”

“Is Evan at his desk?” Connor asks. 

“Mariah’s getting him,” Charles says, looking up from his phone. “They’re both on their way now.” He looks at Connor. “He says to tell you you’re ridiculous.”

Asher is rummaging through the cupboards, getting some bowls and cutlery out. Connor decides to make himself useful and starts serving up hot curry and rice. The curry has travelled pretty well and is still piping hot. Turns out Nonna Bianchi’s method of wrapping it in tons of tea towels is pretty solid, even in the middle of winter. 

“Oh my god, that smells amazing.”

Connor turns to see Mariah, Evan and about six other people he only vaguely recognizes. Evan looks straight at Connor, his eyes shining with affection. Connor holds out a bowl. “Curry?”

“You are completely ridiculous,” Evan says, walking over to Connor and kissing him gently. “Completely and utterly ridiculous and completely and utterly wonderful.”

“Blame Asher,” Connor replies with a grin, leaning in to kiss Evan again. “It was his idea.”

“I was kidding,” Asher says, helping himself to one of the bowls Connor’s served up. “This is fucking amazing, oh my god.”

“I put extra vegetables in it,” Connor says teasingly. “Seeing as most of you lawyers probably haven’t seen one in years.”

“I’ll have you know I know  _ exactly _ what a sweet potato looks like,” says a guy in a charcoal suit Connor’s sure he’s met but can’t remember his name. “They’re green, right?”

“Oh my god, Owen, shut up.”

Mariah starts handing out bowls and Connor goes back to serving up food, making sure to hand Evan one first. 

There’s a steady stream of lawyers showing up in the kitchen on the hunt for food, most of them thanking Connor and then Evan, then heading back to their desks. Connor just keeps serving up bowl after bowl of curry and rice. He’s got no idea how many people he feeds, but it’s definitely a couple of dozen. Finally, the flow of people stops and Evan insists he sit and join them to eat. 

“This is amazing,” Mariah says, sounding completely sincere. “Oh my god, it’s been so fucking long since I’ve had a home-cooked meal.”

“I had one last night,” says Evan in this smug tone that Connor kind of adores. He leans over to kiss Connor on the cheek. “This one keeps making sure I’m fed.”

“Why don’t we cook?” Asher asks Charles. 

“Remember the time we tried to cook that beer can chicken in college?” Charles counters. “If we cooked, we’d lose our security deposit in less than twenty minutes.”

“Point,” says Asher. He turns to Evan. “Can we hire your boyfriend to cook for us?”

“I have a job,” Connor points out. “I run two businesses.”

“And yet you still manage to keep Evan from starving,” says Mariah, looking at Connor and Evan with a fond look. “Gross. Disgusting. You’re both disgusting.”

“What’s this I hear about curry?” says a voice from the doorway. Everyone turns to see Jonathan, Evan’s boss, standing there, looking a little taken aback. 

“There’s plenty left,” Connor says, a little awkwardly. “I, uh, brought food? I hope that’s okay.”

Jonathan walks across the room and goes to investigate. His eyes widen as he takes the lid off the pot. “This smells amazing.”

“There’s rice, too” Asher adds helpfully. “In one of those Tupperware containers.”

Jonathan busies himself serving up a bowl of curry. He grabs a fork, takes a bite and lets out an honest to god moan. “Holy shit,” he says immediately. He looks at Evan. “You make this?”

“God, no,” Evan says, almost laughing. He looks at Connor with a soft smile. “Connor did. He’s the cook in our relationship.”

“Fucking hell, this is good,” says Jonathan, gesturing at the bowl with this fork. He looks at Connor and kind of tilts his head. “You sure you’re Larry Murphy’s kid?”

Connor looks at Jonathan, a little embarrassed. “Yes?”

Jonathan laughs. “I remember him complaining about his wife’s cooking in the 90s. Gave him hell for it when he and Cynthia split because he had no idea how to boil an egg.”

“He probably still doesn’t,” Connor says, because boiling an egg is beneath Larry Murphy. 

_ That’s not fair,  _ he thinks to himself.  _ Dad’s trying now.  _

Connor blinks. He doesn’t know where that thought came from. The last time he talked to his dad was a ten-second phone call on Christmas Day. His secretary had sent a card with $300 in it that his dad hadn’t even bothered to sign himself - it was obviously a stamp. 

“Good of you to bring in a hot meal,” Jonathan says as he finishes the bowl of curry in record speed. “Can’t remember the last time I ate something homemade in this office.” He looks at Evan, approval in his expression. “You hang on to this one, Hansen.”

“Absolutely,” says Evan, looking at Connor, his eyes soft. “I won’t let go for anything.”

Connor feels his heart squeeze painfully. 

_ I miss you I miss you I miss you.  _

Something sad passes over Evan’s face. 

It all starts to fade. 

Connor wakes up alone, heart pounding. He can hear Otis screaming from the other room. 

Something’s wrong something’s wrong something’s wrong. 

* * *

Evan woke up with a gasp, struggling for breath. His head was killing him. Evan blinked a few times, disoriented, because for a moment he thought he was in Connor’s hospital room. 

That didn’t make sense…

Evan blinked a few more times. He was… this was a hospital. Brightly lit. The room filled with the unmistakable smell of bleach and sanitizer. 

That… He could  _ not _ be in a hospital. Evan had been in a pharmacy, he had been fine...

Evan shook his head, looking around, horrified, trying to figure this out. He had an IV in his hand, he was wearing a thin paper-like gown. He was shivering and felt lightheaded. 

A nurse bustled into the room, wearing a frown. “Oh good, you’re awake. How are you feeling Mr. Hansen?”

“How did I get here?” Evan asked, his voice hoarse. 

The nurse frowned. “You collapsed in a Walgreens. When you came in you were severely dehydrated and from the looks of it, sleep-deprived. Upon examination, there is fluid in your lungs, and one of your ribs was recently broken, and you are covered in cigarette burns -”

Evan was already on his feet. “I have to go.”

The nurse looked angry. “You are not going anywhere. You’re very unwell.”

“I’m fine!” Evan insisted. 

“You’re exhausted. You have pneumonia. You need to have a few of those burns looked at to make sure they are healing properly. You need fluids and rest.” 

“I can’t be here.”

The nurse frowned deeply. “Honey, is someone hurting you? Holding you against your will? You… you’re very sick and… When we tried your emergency contacts, nobody answered.”

“Who did you call?” Evan demanded, his heart in his throat. “Did you leave any messages?”

“No -”

“Who did you call?” Evan demanded again, louder. 

“Whoever was listed as your in case of emergency number, I think it was Connor something?”

Evan thought he might be sick. He put his hand over his mouth, gagging, but mercifully he did not throw up. “Did you talk to him? Did you call from my number?”

“No,” The nurse said, “We called from the front desk, but we couldn’t get in touch -”

Evan sucked in a deep breath, his heart unclenching.

“Is this the person who is hurting you? Honey, you need to be honest here, if we’re going to help you -”

“Nobody is hurting me. I’m just… a little under the weather and. I’m fine, really.”

“You’re not fine. You need to stay and let us help you.”

“No. I need to go,” Evan said stubbornly, standing up. He pulled the IV out of his hand roughly, wincing a little as he did. Blood streaked down Evan’s hand. “I can’t be here. I have to  _ work _ , I’m fine -”

“Sweetheart you are in no state to be working.”

“Please, I need to leave.”

It took a lot of arguing and paperwork before the hospital finally released him. They handed him a prescription for antibiotics and cough medicine and warned him that he needed to take it easy or else he would just end up back there. 

Evan changed back into his street clothes. Checked his phone to make sure nobody had called or texted him. Ordered a Lyft to get home. Dragged himself upstairs to his apartment and into his bedroom.

“You shouldn’t have left.” 

Evan’s heart was pounding too hard in his chest. “You… you can’t be here.”

Connor crossed his arms over his chest, giving Evan an annoyed look. “You managed to get really sick. Again.” 

Evan shivered, blinking rapidly. “You’re not real. You’re not really here.”

Connor rolled his eyes. “You need to start taking better care of yourself,” He said to Evan. 

Evan could hardly breathe. “This isn’t real. You can’t be here. You’re not here. You’re not real.” 

Connor sighed. “You’re really sick. You need to sleep. Drink some water.”

Evan shook his head hard, covering his ears, shutting his eyes. “This isn’t real this isn’t real this isn’t real,” he whispered to himself. 

Connor sat down on the bed. Evan felt the mattress dip under his weight. It felt real but it couldn’t be it couldn’t be real. He gently took Evan’s hands away from his ears. “You need to take better care of yourself.”

Evan started to cry, his heart hammering too hard, feeling sick and faint and terrified. “You can’t… you shouldn’t be able to touch me, you’re not real,” He mumbled pathetically. “You can’t…”

Connor pulled Evan into his arms, holding him tightly. “You need to sleep, love.” 

“You’re not real,” Evan whispered, still terrified. “I’m… I’m hallucinating, I’m imagining this, I’m... I’m crazy and this isn’t real. It can’t be real, I left you, I left… I.” 

“Sleep love. You’re exhausted,” Connor said, brushing the hair off of Evan’s sweaty brow. 

Evan couldn’t argue. He was exhausted. He climbed under the covers, curled up in the blankets and closed his eyes. “Don’t go,” he whispered to Connor, even though he was positive he wasn’t really there. “Please don’t leave. Don’t leave me.”

“I’m right here.”

“I love you so much please don’t go.”

Evan dreamed in disconnected vignettes, but all of them featured Connor. 

Connor convincing him to come look for a new duvet cover when Evan moved in so that the one they used matched both of their tastes. 

Evan packing up his bedroom at Alex and Mattie’s, having pizza and beers just the three of them, and toasting to the future before Connor turned up with a tape gun and a bottle of prosecco. 

Evan and Connor brushing their teeth side by side in Connor’s bathroom, making stupid faces at each other and kissing with minty toothpaste still in the corners of their mouths. 

Connor turning up at Schneider & Weiss with a huge pot of curry for Evan and all of his coworkers and Evan being warmed through inside and out by how fucking sweet that was. Calling Connor ridiculous and wonderful and then feeling like something wasn’t quite right because suddenly it felt like a dream, like it wasn’t real, and he looked at Connor and grabbed his hand and whispered, “I don’t want to go please don’t make me -”

Evan woke drenched in sweat, alone, his heart beating too hard in his chest. When he checked his phone, Evan realized he had slept for seventeen hours. And he was still exhausted. 

Fuck. 


	97. NINETY-SIX

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> “We aren’t anyone to each other."

Zoe gets into the habit of showing up at Connor’s apartment. A lot. Just showing up unannounced, usually bringing food, because she “wants to hang”. 

Connor knows she’s checking up on him. Part of him wants to be annoyed that she still thinks he needs checking up on. 

But it’s a small part. He’s always pleased to see Zoe. Especially once February begins and the date creeps closer and closer to the third anniversary of dying and dying and dying, over and over and over again. 

An anniversary he’ll spend without Evan. Because Evan doesn’t talk to him anymore.

Connor misses him every day, misses him like you’d miss a limb. And as the anniversary creeps closer, he’s getting more and more on edge, because he’s worried. 

Terrified. Completely and utterly terrified that something will happen to Evan. 

That the world will lose him, that something impossible will remove him from existence forever. 

Praveed keeps telling Connor that while it makes sense to be worried about Evan and he needs to acknowledge his emotions about it, Evan is not his responsibility. 

Evan’s made it clear he wants nothing to do with Connor. 

Evan’s made it clear he doesn’t want Connor. 

He and Zoe are eating soup on the sofa, watching Steven Universe, when Zoe turns to him, an unreadable expression on her face. 

“Can I ask you a question?”

“Sure,” he says. 

“You wrote me a letter. To go with your will.” Zoe takes in a deep breath. “In the letter you said that something weird might have happened. That you were a magnet for weird shit.” She looks at him and frowns. “What the fuck does that mean?”

“I did?” Connor says, trying to remember. He frowns. Thinks back. “I… fuck, I…” The memory of writing a letter to Zoe to go with his will comes back. He feels his face drain of color. “Fuck. Yeah.”

He’d written it after a sleepless night, a night full of nightmares and terror. Nightmares where he’d coughed up a razor blade in front of his sister, where she’d watched him start to hemorrhage blood from no obvious wound, where he’d just died and she’d screamed and screamed and begged him to stay as he faded into darkness. 

“I hadn’t slept,” he says, trying to explain. “I hadn’t… I’d had these horrible, horrible nightmares where I just… kept dying? Over and over again. And you were there and saw it every time and it was… it was horrible, and I was…” He hangs his head. “I shouldn’t have let it get to me, I shouldn’t have freaked you out like that. Fuck.”

Zoe’s still staring at him, eyes wide and face pale. “Dying over and over again?” she asks, her voice cracking a little. She frowns a little. “That… one of my clients said something about that? This kid, he was... maybe eight years old. Convinced that he’d died and died and died, that he’d been through the same day over and over and over.” She lets out this nervous laugh. “He kept saying what I was about to say. It was super creepy.”

Connor feels cold. Coldcoldcoldcold. 

Fuck. 

Fuck. 

“What did you do?” Connor can’t help but ask. “How did you help him?”

“I’m still seeing him,” Zoe says, her tone cautious. “I… I shouldn’t be talking about this, I’ve already divulged too much for privacy reasons. But I did do some research about dying over and over again. There are Reddit threads? People who are convinced they’ve been through these… death loops.” She looks more than a little spooked. “And this scientist guy wrote a book about it. I started reading it and couldn’t get through it, because holy shit it was a mess. He had this whole theory about… alternate realities?” She shakes her head. “All of this is completely insane, obviously, and doesn’t help the fact that I have a traumatized kid who’s terrified of the electric train set his grandfather got him for Christmas last year because he said it exploded and killed him once.”

“Fucking Christ,” Connor mutters. 

That is. 

No. 

That’s so fucked up. 

That is  _ too _ fucked up. 

A kid. 

Holy fuck a kid, dying over and over again, a fucking  _ kid. _

“Connor,” Zoe says, her voice worried. 

It takes him a moment to realize he’s not fucking breathing right. Zoe wraps her arms around him and counts with him and it takes an agonizingly long time for him to get himself under control. 

When he’s finally breathing again, Zoe’s eyes are wide and scared. 

“What the fuck,” she says softly. “Connor, what the fuck?”

“Sorry,” he manages to say. “It, uh…” He looks his sister in the eye and lies through his teeth. “After those dreams, I looked up some of that shit? And… yeah, I found the Reddit threads as well. And that scientist’s book. Joshua Weekes, right?”

“Yeah,” Zoe says, still looking scared. 

Connor offers a tremulous smile. “It… kind of fucked me up a little,” he says, and at least that’s true, fuck. “People’s stories were… kind of horrific? And the idea of a little kid going through that is really fucking upsetting, fuck.”

Zoe stares at him a little longer, before nodding, her shoulders relaxing. “Yeah. Yeah.” She lets out this laugh. Rubs her face. “Fuck. I thought you were going to tell me that you’d…”

“No,” Connor lies. “No, that’s… that’s impossible.” He shrugs. “But it’s scary and it sounded real, the way people described it? I can see why you’d… I don’t know, be able to convince yourself that something weird happened.”

“That’s what I thought,” Zoe says with a nod. She frowns. “I talked to the parents about the kid’s internet use. They swear they don’t let him use the internet unsupervised, but I’m not convinced. There are YouTube videos about the whole looping thing. My theory is that he found one and it traumatized him.”

“Yeah,” says Connor, his voice raw. “That makes sense.”

“It’s so fucked up,” Zoe says, shaking her head. “People just… taking advantage of people’s imagination like that. It’s…” She tries to smile. “Can’t believe everything you read on the internet, huh?”

“Yeah,” says Connor, his voice hollow to his own ears. 

* * *

Evan had hardly looked up from his computer in hours. He had gotten to the office at a quarter to seven because he couldn’t sleep and he was sick of pacing his bedroom like a caged animal so he got dressed and went to work and got started on a brief. And when he finished, he worked on the next one, and the next one, and now he was in the middle of reading up on some medical malpractice suits because he sometimes emailed with Larry Murphy about the ongoing suit against the hospital. Maybe it wasn’t strictly fair to sue a hospital because of interdimensional time travel fuckery, Evan thought distantly, but part of him thought that if they had gotten Connor into surgery sooner, if they had caught the infection faster, he never would have gotten so sick that he woke up in another reality so yeah, Dr. Alterra and the hospital should pay up. 

Dawn, McLaren, Hunt, and Simon’s long-suffering receptionist, appeared in Evan’s doorway. She reminded him a little bit of his mom, but Evan could never pinpoint exactly why. She cleared her throat and said, “Larry Murphy is here to see you, sir.”

Evan kept asking her to stop calling him sir, but she kept at it. 

His brain finally processed what she had said. Evan shook his head. “I don’t have an appointment with Larry Murphy.”

“He said you probably weren’t expecting him, but that I should insist -”

Evan was going to protest that he was busy, that he had things to do, but he noticed that Larry was standing right behind Dawn, frowning. 

Evan sighed. “Send him in. Thanks.”

Dawn left quickly and Larry strode into Evan’s office. He frowned a little when he stepped inside. Evan kept adding notes to the document he was working on, figuring that Larry would eventually get to the reason he was here. 

“I thought we could grab lunch,” Larry said, his voice sort of… casual. Light. Like this was a social call. 

“I’m busy,” Evan said. “Sorry.” 

“I’m sure they could spare you for an hour.”

Evan scowled at Larry. “Feel free to take it up with Richard. I have to file this by the end of the day.” He was lying of course. He had nothing pressing to file. 

Larry frowned at Evan. He strode out of Evan’s office, leaving the door wide open which grated on Evan’s nerves, and it was only a few minutes after he left that Evan heard the booming laughter of two lawyers who hated each other having a strategically cordial conversation. 

Fuck. 

He got up from his desk and strode down the hall to Richard’s office to find that Larry was smiling all big and professional, and his eyes lit up when he saw Evan. “Ah, here he is! Surely you can spare him for an hour, Richard. I won’t even get him drunk, Scout’s Honor!”

Richard looked a bit pissed off, honestly, but he smiled back and said, “Don’t go trying to poach him. We just had to outbid Jonathan’s offices.”

Like Evan was a cow or something. 

Charming. 

“Wouldn’t dream of it,” Larry said. He smirked at Evan. “Ready?”

Evan scowled. “Let me just grab my coat.”

Larry clapped him on the shoulder and Evan thought about throwing a punch. He didn’t. He pulled on his jacket and scarf and followed Larry out of the office, down the elevators, and out into the lobby. His throat itched and burned, but Evan tried his best not to cough, not to display any weakness in front of Larry.

Larry led the way to a car waiting outside. Of course he had a driver while he was in town. For fuck’s sake. 

Larry didn’t say much on the ride. 

And Evan was shocked when they were dropped off in front of a small diner maybe ten blocks from his office. He shot Larry a questioning look, and Larry just shrugged and led the way inside. Evan had expected… something sleek and expensive and corporate. Not a cozy diner which boasted pastrami sandwiches and Matzo ball soup. The place wasn’t terribly busy, and Evan realized distantly that it was pretty late in the day for lunch. 

The hostess directed them toward a booth and gave them each a thick menu to consider. Larry opened his and started reading through it, looking thoughtful. 

Evan didn’t know what the fuck was going on here at all. 

The waitress took their order and Evan found his fingers already shredding the paper napkin in front of him. A horrible nervous habit. Evan forced his hands to still. Forced himself to look Larry in the face and ask, “What do you want?”

“I wanted to get lunch,” Larry said evasively. 

“And I’m here because…?”

“I was hoping to speak with you about the lawsuit.”

“I sent over my thoughts on the files -”

“Not that,” Larry said. He looked like he was considering his words very carefully. “That was very helpful, but that’s not what I wanted to talk to you about. I still think you should reconsider -”  
“You can’t put me on that suit,” Evan snapped. 

“We’re suing for damages,” Larry countered. “You can’t deny that you suffered emotional distress after what happened.”

Evan  _ could  _ deny that, he supposed, but it probably wouldn’t be an argument he would win. A rarity. He won most arguments. He frowned. “I appreciate the thought, but no thank you.”

“But -”

“I’m sure if you asked your family their opinion on this, they would agree with me. That my name should not be there.”

Larry looked like he wanted to protest, but Evan had hit the bullseye. Zoe and Cynthia and most likely Connor would not want Evan to profit off of his distress. Larry had no real argument to convince Evan without them. 

Evan said “your family.” Not their names. It felt as if he had no right to hold those sounds in his mouth, feel Connor’s name on his lips. So Evan didn’t. 

“The money could help you,” Larry said at length. 

“With what?” Evan asked. “I’m fine without it. Genuinely my salary has doubled since I changed firms. Thank you for the considerate offer, but I’ll pass.”

The food arrived. It looked good, smelled appealing, but Evan hardly had an appetite. He still wasn’t quite himself since getting sick. He picked up a fry and considered it for a moment. He noticed Larry was watching him, so Evan forced his mouth open. Forced himself to chew and swallow. 

Larry dropped his gaze to his own sandwich. 

They chewed quietly for a few minutes. 

“How’s working with McLaren again?” Larry asked. 

Evan almost smiled, rolling his eyes. “He’s an ass. Arrogant and demanding and… just a real pain in the ass.” He shrugged. “It’s great. I’m happy with the decision.”

He was lying. 

Larry seemed to know. 

They both looked at each other for a moment. Evan stared Larry down. He wouldn’t buckle on this. Larry blinked and went back to his food. 

Something else Evan won. 

“Your mother says she hasn’t heard from you in a while,” Larry said then. “She said you had a fight at Thanksgiving…”

“You talked to my mother?” Evan said, eyebrows up. 

Larry nodded. “We talk.”

Evan frowned. “So this is, what? You checking up on me?”

Larry shrugged. “From the looks of it, nobody else is.”

Evan scowled, rising from his seat. “I don’t need to -”

“Sit down,” Larry said firmly. “Eat your food and don’t make a scene.”

Evan felt his face flame. He hated that Larry was speaking to him like a particularly ill-behaved child. Fuck him. 

“We aren’t anyone to each other. You’re not my…” The pause was far too telling, far too revealing, far too daddy issues.  _ You’re not my father. _ “I don’t need you checking up on me.”

“Sit. Down,” Larry said. “People are looking.”

Evan felt like screaming.

But he sat. Because he very much did not want to make a scene. Because people  _ were _ looking and he hated it when people looked at him, judged him. So he sat.

And shoved another fry into his mouth. 

It had been too long since he last ate something. Shit. He was especially bad about that lately. He just had no appetite, no interest in taking care of himself.

The food probably was good, but it was like eating cardboard. Tasteless and taxing. Evan would rather just go back to work. His throat was too sore for this food anyway. 

“You look like hell,” Larry said after a moment. “Have you been sick?”

Evan rolled his eyes. “Getting over a cold.”

Larry looked at him with this maddeningly even expression. Evan wanted to throw his food at him or something equally impulsive and childish and stupid. He couldn’t fucking stand the way Larry was looking at him, like he… cared or something. 

“I wasn’t going to let Connor go to Columbia,” Larry volunteered suddenly. It was so unexpected that Evan actually stopped chewing and stared at him for a long moment. “When he was eighteen, I… He’d only just gotten out of the hospital, and as far as I could tell nothing had really changed? He was still… Connor. So I wasn’t going to let him go to Columbia. I thought… it was too dangerous. Letting my suicidal teenager go to New York City, alone? I thought. I thought we’d lose him. I thought if I could just keep him at home, keep him close by, that he would be safe.”

Evan rolled his eyes. Classic overprotective parent bullshit. His own mom had tried to pull that on him. It hadn’t helped. His extra year living at home hadn’t fixed anything. 

“I was so terrified that I couldn’t look at him,” Larry went on. “I put in ninety, one hundred hours at work a week? Slept on the sofa in my office sometimes. If I slept at all. I couldn’t even  _ look  _ at Connor I was so out of my mind scared.” He shook his head, taking a pause to eat a bite of his sandwich. “That was the nail in the coffin, with Cynthia, I think. That I disappeared. I worked and I wasn’t there and when I did show up, I wouldn’t budge on the school question. In my mind, there was no way. No way I was letting him go.”

Evan knew this. Not the details, but he knew Connor’s parents had fought a lot about letting him go away to college. Evan felt like he had a lump in his throat, something hard to swallow. He knew now what it felt like to lose Connor. To nearly have the world lose him. He understood better now. 

“She wore me down eventually. On Columbia,” Larry said, his voice heavy. He looked tired. Sad. Old. Evan… almost felt bad for him. Almost. Not quite. He still had a hard time feeling for Larry when Larry had hurt Connor so badly in the past. 

“But the day after I finally relented, said he could go…” Larry shook his head, smiling ruefully. “I almost hit a teenager with my car.”

Evan nearly choked on the bite of his sandwich he was chewing. 

In his mind’s eye, he saw a flash of headlights suddenly. Saw himself standing inches from the front bumper of a car. A man with short, gray hair, looking haggard yelling at him for not watching where he was going. Offering him a ride home.

“It was sort of ironic, but it helped a little? Knowing that… that there was no way keeping Connor home was going to keep him safe. Because it wasn’t. There were… tired lawyers working ninety hour weeks who could kill him on his way home no matter where he lived. It was stupid, really, that almost hurting someone, almost killing them woke me up a little. Made me see that keeping him home wasn’t going to help or fix things.” He rubbed a hand over his face. “But it was a bit too little too late by then. He was grown up. I had thought if I just worked hard enough… And things fell apart anyway. So I stopped trying. Because I was scared. And I came home one day to realize my marriage was over.”

Evan frowned at Larry. “What’s the point of you telling me this? Do you want me to… pity you?”

“No,” Larry said, looking disgusted. “What I’m trying to say is… I think I understand. Why you left.” 

Evan felt winded. Like he had been punched. He stayed quiet. 

Everyone told him he was stupid to leave. Cruel to leave. People theorized why but nobody had bothered to try to empathize and Evan was so thrown he kept quiet. 

“I don’t like it, and it doesn’t mean I’m not exceptionally angry with you for putting Connor through that,” Larry went on. “But I understand it. I understand that it… came from a place of love. That you wanted to protect him...” He cleared his throat. “And I know that… that love just isn’t always enough.”

Evan stared at his lap because he couldn’t look at Larry. 

He couldn’t look at him. 

They were quiet as they finished eating, Evan picking at his food more than actually consuming it, taking most of it to go in a box that he promptly gave to a homeless man on the sidewalk not far away. He and Larry didn’t say a lot on the ride back to Evan’s office. 

When they pulled over, Larry shook Evan’s hand. Told him to call his mother. 

Evan nodded wearily. He went upstairs to his office. 

Not long after, Richard stopped by, asking for a copy of some brief Evan had practically rewritten of his. “How was lunch with Larry Murphy?”

“Fine,” Evan said blandly. 

“I hate that guy,” Richard said, shaking his head. 


	98. NINETY-SEVEN

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> "It’s like trying to catch a thunderstorm with your bare hands.”

The day before Connor turns 30, everything feels wrong. 

Like there’s a high pitched noise buzzing at the back of his head. Like someone is trapped behind a window screaming for help and he can’t hear them but he can feel it, feel the desperation, feel the hurt and the pain and…

It feels wrong. Off-kilter. 

Like he’s taken a bite into aluminum foil. 

The feeling doesn’t disappear, doesn’t vanish, doesn’t subside all day, even though he tries to ignore it, tries to reconcile it, tries to make it make sense. 

It’s probably because tomorrow’s the three year anniversary of the loops. 

Right? It’s probably just… that. 

He spends most of the day working on admin for Leatherbird. Does a bit of editing of some new manuscripts and keeps working on the young writers’ workshop he’s facilitating in April at the bookstore for local high school students. Dave and Mikhail were thankfully behind his idea of doing some publishing of work by young writers and the workshop is the first step in the process. He’s got some YA authors coming along to talk about their work, some who’ve published through Leatherbird and others who have published through bigger publishing companies. He thinks it’s going to be great and he’s really excited about it, but today it’s just… hard to concentrate. 

Connor ends up taking frequent breaks to just go check in on Maureen and Jax, who are working the Friday shift. It’s a freezing cold day, so it’s slow, and Connor considers telling them that one of them can go home if they want but he knows they’d rather be together. 

The two of them have been going strong since July and really are way too stinking cute. 

Sometime mid-afternoon, there’s a knock on his apartment door, then it opens tentatively and Otis pokes his head around. “Hey man,” he says, a little awkwardly. “I was in the neighborhood, just wanted to come and say hi.”

“Hey,” says Connor, smiling and ushering his friend in. “Let me put on some hot chocolate, you look cold.”

Otis smiles and takes off his hat and gloves and jacket. “It’s warm in here,” he says, taking a seat at the kitchen table. He looks at Connor, his expression searching. “You feel it too, don’t you?”

Connor feels this buzzing in his head grow louder. “Yeah,” he says, his throat dry. “Yeah, I feel it. I… I don’t know what it means. Do you?”

Otis looks a little helpless. “No,” he confesses. “It’s… it’s something big,” he says, frowning like he’s trying to figure it out. “But it’s… slippery. It’s slippery and momentous, it’s huge and it’s faded, it’s like… trying to catch a thunderstorm with your bare hands.”

As usual, Connor has no idea what the actual fuck Otis is on about, but he gets what he means. “Yeah.”

Once they’ve both got hot chocolate and are sharing a packet of Oreos, Otis looks thoughtful. “It’ll clear,” he says, his voice confident. “It’ll clear, and there’ll be enough time.” He looks at Connor, his eyes so, so much older than his young years. 

It kills Connor a little, knowing just how young he really is. 

“You’ll have enough time,” Otis insists. “I know you will.”

The day passes in an uneasy blur of edits and paperwork and this awful, unsettling feeling that something’s wrong, something’s wrong, the universe is off-kilter and Connor’s supposed to be doing something about it.

Around 5, Connor gets a text from Andre, asking if he’s free for a drink. Andre’s off work for the night, apparently, and Celeste is sleeping over at a friend’s.

Connor debates whether he should go for what feels like a long time but isn’t, really, in the grand scheme of things. He arranges to meet Andre at Tipsy McStaggers, even though he hasn’t been there in months and months and months.

Even though he hasn’t been there without Evan since they first met again, three years ago tomorrow. 

He’d felt like it was theirs. Like it was their place. 

Praveed would be proud, Connor thinks as he bundles up in his customary layers and layers of clothing, along with a scarf, gloves and a hat and his new winter jacket, which he still maintains his mom spend a frankly insane amount of money on but begrudgingly admits it was worth it. 

It’s snowing, thick white flakes swirling through the air, and it’s really fucking cold - Connor is well aware that his take on what’s cold and what’s not still differs from the average person, but he’s pretty sure they’d agree. Still, he’s well protected, and when he gets to Tipsy’s, Andre is already at a table, the same table that Evan used to always pick, and that makes something in Connor’s chest ache.

Andre grins when he sees him, this big wide grin that makes him look younger, and Connor grins back, because it is nice to see him. They’ve been doing this whole ‘let’s grab a drink’ thing more often in the last few months. More often for them, at least. 

Connor really likes it.

“Hey man,” says Andre, and his voice is kind of rough, like he’s been sick. “I’d hug you, but I don’t want you to get sick. I’m just coming off a bitch of a head cold.”

“I’m sorry, that sucks,” Connor says, frowning. “What are you drinking?”

Andre lifts up his mug and grins. “Got them to make me a hot toddy. Heavy on the whisky. Want one? It’ll warm you up, I know you’re always cold.”

“Actually, that sounds awesome,” Connor concedes. He takes off his jacket, gloves, scarf and hat, puts them down on the seat and makes sure he’s got his wallet. “You want a refill or are you good?”

“I’m good,” Andre says with a nod. He looks apologetic. “It’ll just be the one drink tonight, sorry. I think I just need to fucking crash.”

Connor frowns. “You shouldn’t have come out if you’re not well, man.”

Andre shrugs. “Wanted to see you,” he says, his voice matter-of-fact, meeting Connor’s eyes without a hint of embarrassment. “We’ve got a family thing on tomorrow so I knew I couldn’t make time to see you then. And it’s the big three-oh for you. Wasn’t going to miss a chance to catch up.”

Connor feels this rush of warmth in his chest. He smiles, thanks his friend, then quickly goes to order his own drink. Soon he’s back at the table and he and Andre fall into easy conversation. There’s a comforting feeling at the table, the feeling of being around someone you know and trust, and it’s warm and makes Connor feel safe. 

It doesn’t completely cover that awful, unsettling feeling that’s been hovering around him all day, but it helps, at least a little. 

“So what are your plans for tomorrow?” Andre asks, and Connor tries not to sigh because he should have fucking known this question was coming, should have come up with a better answer than ‘sitting alone in my apartment, scared out of my mind for my ex, trying not to die’. 

“I’m just going to have a quiet one,” Connor says, not quite able to look Andre in the eye. “Just… I don’t really love my birthday? Kinda… it’s kinda complicated, but I’d rather just be by myself on the day. Zoe was trying to get to throw a party or something but I put my foot down. I’ll see her on Sunday. Tomorrow I just want some alone time.”

When Connor finally brings himself to look at his friend, he looks sad, a little concerned, and… something Connor can’t quite place. 

It takes a moment, but Andre replies, his voice careful and cautious.

“I never said anything because I didn’t really know how to explain it,” he says slowly. “But… remember how you ordered that 25-year-old Chivas when you turned 27?”

Connor feels the terrifying familiar sensation of static, of having bitten into aluminium foil. “Yeah,” he manages to choke out.

Andre frowns. “That night on your birthday… when I think back on it, I keep having, like…” He shakes his head. Laughs a little. “It’s like I remember it differently every time. It’s really fucking weird. Sometimes you’re kind of an asshole, sometimes you’re… like you are now, sometimes Evan’s there and trying to talk to you, sometimes he’s just this sad guy I don’t really know who looks like he forgot how to fucking sleep. It’s super trippy. I can’t really explain it, sorry.”

Connor kind of wants to tell Andre. 

Tell him everything. 

He’s not going to, though. The last time he talked to someone about this, it didn’t end well. And…

Well. 

He won’t betray Evan like that. 

Even after everything, he just…

He won’t. 

“That’s so weird,” Connor says, trying for a laugh. “That’s, uh… that night was actually when Evan and I kind of reconnected. We ran into each other at the store, then talked for a bit afterwards.”

Andre looks even sadder. “I didn’t mean to bring him up. I’m so fucking sorry, dude.” He shakes his head. Frowns deeper. “I’m sorry.”

“It’s…” Connor lets out a long, slow breath, then takes an equally long sip of his hot toddy. “It is what it is, you know? It just… it is what it is.” After a moment, he asks the question he’s been trying not to ask his friend for the last six months. “Does he still shop at your store? Have you seen him?”

Andre shakes his head. “No. He’s clearly found somewhere else to buy liquor, which makes sense, I guess. He knows we’re friends.”

Connor nods. “Yeah.”

The awful, buzzing feeling just won’t go away. He hates it. 

They talk for a while. About books, about Celeste, about the goddamn weather, and it’s nice, it’s normal, it’s good. Hanging out with Andre is good, and it makes Connor feel safe, it’s just that the feeling of safety isn’t quite enough to combat the incredible wrongness of the day. 

They end up deciding to grab dinner, after some conversation. They both tuck into steak and potatoes and each order a whisky to go with it, despite Andre’s claims that he’s only here for the one drink. “If I’m eating dinner, then it doesn’t count,” he says with a grin, holding out his glass. Connor holds out his and they clink together, this bright, cheerful sound that puts a momentary dent in the strange, awful buzzing, stops it for a moment. A fraction of a second. 

It’s a welcome relief, however short. 

The steak is cooked perfectly, and there’s this great mushroom sauce with it that Connor really likes. It’s creamy and it’s delicious and definitely not kosher, so normally he’d ask for it on the side in case Evan wanted to try some of his steak because they usually kind of shared meals, but today he hasn’t done that and they’ve just poured the sauce right on. 

Connor doesn’t keep kosher. He doesn’t need to fucking worry about meat and dairy anymore. 

It’s just… hard to turn off, that awareness. 

When they finish their meals, Andre insists on paying, and Connor tries to protest because he knows he makes more money than Andre does, but Andre refuses to take no for an answer, and Connor relents only because it’s his birthday. 

“You didn’t let me take you out for dinner on your birthday,” Connor grumbles as they put on their warm layers to brave the storm. 

“You were back home,” Andre points out. “Tell you what, I’ll let you take me out for my half birthday, okay? April 13.”

Connor tries not to react but fails miserably. Andre looks at him, frowning a little.

“Sorry,” he says weakly. “That’s, uh, that’s Evan’s birthday.”

Andre winces. “Fuck. Sorry, man.”

Andre doesn’t hug him, even though he looks like he really wants to. As soon as they get out of the bar, he pulls a brown paper bag out of his backpack and hands it to Connor with a flourish. 

“Happy birthday,” he says. “Have some pretentious asshole whisky.”

Connor laughs and takes the bottle and tucks it safely under his arm. “Thanks, man.”

“It really is good to see you,” says Andre as he hails a cab. “Let’s do this again soon, yeah?”

“Definitely,” says Connor, who’s ordering a Lyft on his phone. “Say hi to Celeste for me.”

They go their separate ways, and Connor feels the warmth and safety of being with a friend dissolve, fade away, until all that’s left is that awful, terrible buzzing.


	99. NINETY-EIGHT

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> “Didn’t you know that they throw in a spine when you graduate with a JD these days?”

Since he started the position at McLaren, Hunt, and Simon, Evan and Richard had accidentally fallen into a bit of a ritual. Every Friday at five o’clock, Richard would walk into Evan’s office and ask him to go for a drink. 

And every Friday at five-oh-one, Evan would say no thank you. 

It had been happening since October. Every week. Every fucking week. 

And this week, Evan was… exhausted. He had won a suit with a four million dollar payout and he barely even noticed. His brain felt like… dial-up internet. Slow and disconnected and buzzy and loud. 

Tomorrow was Connor’s thirtieth birthday. 

Tomorrow was the anniversary of the day Evan had died. 

Tomorrow was… 

Evan couldn’t picture tomorrow. He couldn’t imagine it or getting through it or coping with it. This morning he put on a maroon tie he had once dreamed of burying Connor in. 

At five o’clock exactly, Richard in his ridiculously shiny wingtips with his unbelievably expensive haircut and bespoke suit pulled open Evan’s office door and said with a wolfish grin, “Hansen. Come for a drink with me.”

And Evan looked up from his computer. 

Today was…

Evan didn’t like today. He needed to be distracted because tomorrow…

So he looked up from his computer.

And agreed. 

Richard even managed to look surprised. 

He insisted that they go to some upscale cocktail lounge where Evan had never been before. Evan didn’t argue. He genuinely did not give a shit about where he went or what he drank. He just needed not to be thinking about Connor or Connor’s birthday or dying twenty times or leaving Connor a month after he woke up from a coma because he was actually in a parallel reality where Evan was dead and Connor basically killed himself to get back, basically killed himself for Evan, and Evan left him he left him and Evan couldn’t be thinking about that the night before Connor turned thirty so he let Richard McLaren take him for a drink. 

“What’ll you have?” Richard asked with this smarmy smile. 

“Double whisky,” Evan said, his voice dull. Bored. Short. 

“They have some of the best cocktails in the city,” Richard said, and his smile broadened. 

“And I would like whisky,” Evan replied coolly. 

Richard only smiled bigger. “A man who knows what he wants,” He said, and there was something feral to the glint of light off of his professionally whitened teeth. “I like that.”

Evan rolled his eyes, sighing a little. He didn’t even bother to reply. The bartender dropped off Evan’s drink, and he was in the process of mixing Richard’s gin martini. 

Evan thought back suddenly to telling Connor about James Bond drinking weak and bitter gin before they got drinks with Sabrina and Graham. His stomach flipped uncomfortably. 

Inside his head, Evan could practically hear Connor scoffing. “Drinks with Richard, that’s a brilliant idea. Or did you already forget what he did to you?”

Evan ignored the voice. 

“Or what he did to Asher?”

Evan knocked back his drink. That was just fucking annoying. Evan had never told Connor about that. About Asher. He’d just said that he knew there were others. It wasn’t Evan’s to tell. He didn’t name names. His brain was fucking terrible at conjuring up a Connor-like conscience or voice or reason or whatever. 

Besides, Evan was always the straight man in their relationship. The logical, reasonable one. 

“That whisky is the only straight thing about you,” Evan’s imaginary Connor said. 

“Can I get another one?” Evan asked the bartender. “And keep them coming please?”

Richard kept smirking at Evan. Smirking like he had achieved something, like he’d won somehow, finally wore Evan down. Evan really did hate him, he thought distantly. 

“How’s Sebastian?” Evan heard himself asking. 

Richard’s eyebrows pinched together. “He’s doing well. He’s in 4-K this year.”

Evan grinned at Richard, “And are you allowed to see him? Or did James manage to get full custody?”

Richard’s eyes flashed. “You weren’t nearly this uppity when you interned for me.”

“Funny, because I’m pretty sure you thought my name was Eric then.”

Richard laughed. “Definitely not this uppity.”

“Didn’t you know that they throw in a spine when you graduate with a JD these days?”

Richard laughed. 

Apparently Evan was funny. 

Evan needed another drink. Or twenty. He hated the sound of Richard’s laugh. It was nasal and thin and Evan hated it. He imagined punching Richard a lot when he laughed. He imagined how satisfying it would be to smash his fist into Richard’s nose, the sickening crunch of cartilage, the flow of blood. 

“Dude,” Evan’s imaginary Connor said, “Maybe you should talk to someone about that…”

Yeah. No fucking shit. 

Evan had another drink. 

Went out for a smoke while Richard made a rude and loud telephone call that was probably just an excuse to boast about how important he thought he was. Evan didn’t even bother eavesdropping, he just left.

He smoked as it started to snow, the ground coated in a fluffy white dusting quickly. Evan used to feel a bit hopeful when it snowed. Since the loops, snow made him feel like… things were alright. It felt like a sign of good things to come. It snowed that last loop, something it hadn’t done before, and Evan had come to take snow as a hopeful, optimistic sort of sign.

Now it just made Evan cold. 

He was cold. 

“You could go inside,” Imaginary Connor said, irritatingly sensible. 

“You’re not real,” Evan returned, rolling his eyes. 

“You’re drunk.”

“Touche.” 

He put the cigarette out on the inside of his wrist, hissing quietly at the sting. Imaginary Connor seemed distraught by that, but Evan decided he would ignore Imaginary Connor because he was an adult who did not have imaginary friends anymore.

Then he went inside. Ordered another three drinks. Tried to ignore the television snow, the radio static filling his ears and eyes and throat. Richard kept getting closer and closer the more he drank. First his knee touching Evan’s. Then his hand on Evan’s knee. His mouth close to Evan’s ear as he talked, his hand inching up. First, just above his knee.

Then on Evan’s thigh. 

Evan kept drinking and decided he didn’t care. 

His Imaginary Connor looked on disapprovingly from across the bar. Evan ordered another drink. Then another. Then another. Until his imaginary Connor wasn’t there anymore because Evan was ignoring him or because he was too old for imaginary friends. He just kept drinking. Until Evan could ignore the buzzing, dial-up internet feeling of unreality that had claimed him all day, until the feeling like he had taken a bite of aluminium foil faded, until Evan didn’t feel any of that shit anymore. 

He didn’t feel any of that anymore. 

He  _ did  _ feel Richard’s fingers tripping along the bottom of Evan’s tie. Pulling him closer. He did feel Richard’s mouth pressed against his. Evan felt the drag of his stubble against Evan’s cheek, he felt the warmth of his body pressed against Evan. 

He felt that. 

So he chased that. 

That might be something.

“Want to get out of here?” Richard asked Evan. 

And Evan nodded. 

He followed Richard out of the bar and into a cab, an actual yellow cab, what a concept, their limbs tangling the moment the door closed, their mouths crashing together, the cab driver sighing in annoyance because he probably dealt with this kind of thing a lot.

It wasn’t long before they were stumbling up the steps of a classy brownstone that Evan knew was not actually Richard’s, it was borrowed, it was a friend’s, a place to stay while Richard’s assets were still tied up in divorce court. He listened to office gossip. He knew that Richard made some decent money but not nearly enough to afford a place this nice. 

Up the steps, into a bedroom, a king-size bed in the middle of the room. Like a stage. And Evan knew what was expected of him. A performance. He could play this role. It was easy, simple, like putting on a tie or a costume or armor. Like straightening his shoulders before a fight or clearing his throat before a closing argument. Evan knew how this went. He could play this part. 

Richard was hurrying to take off his clothes and Evan found himself almost… bored by the way he was looking at Evan like a prize he had won or a trophy to collect. Richard clearly worked out but it didn’t mask the fact that he was aging, he was obviously not at peak form. He was boring and average and sort of plain to look at. His hairline was receding. Even his dick, which Evan assessed with a detached kind of interest, was aggressively garden-variety. 

The tie went first. Then his jacket went to the floor. Shirt, undershirt, shoes toed off, his belt unbuckled, his boxers discarded. Richard was so desperate for it. Desperate and begging, his voice too high and thin and breathy, “please please please fuck me, please,” and somewhere in his mind Evan knew this about Richard, that he was needy, and it ought to amuse him or at least raise the rush of satisfaction of being right, but Evan didn’t care. Richard was begging and Evan knew how to play this role, so he played it. He played it as best as he could, not being gentle or even trying to get Richard off, really. Normally that was Evan’s focus, trying to please the other person, but he really did not give a fuck if Richard enjoyed himself. He was just… doing this. He was just doing this and Richard wasn’t trying either, they were both existing, both just doing this, doing what was expected of them. 

Richard was so loud. So loud. Evan wished he wouldn’t be. 

“Shut up,” Evan ground out. “Shut up shut up shut up.”

Richard tried to muffle his moans but not for long and Evan debated just shoving his face into a pillow or something. So fucking loud it hurt Evan’s head. 

Sabrina hadn’t known, not for a long time, about the sleeping around after she went home. The sleeping around his last year of law school. 

When she found out, Sabrina had been upset. She called him a slut. 

Maybe he was. 

She didn’t find out until after he broke up with Connor. Until after he’d slept with Charlie and admitted it to Sabrina because his insides were still coiling with guilt, with the feeling that he had cheated even though Connor had slept with Parker even though Evan had broken things off, he felt like he had cheated and Sabrina called him a slut and maybe he was maybe he was. 

Evan didn’t know or care. He was playing a role. 

Heartless? Done. He could be heartless. He could be cruel. He could stop the static, the unrealness, the buzzing and unsteadiness of today being today being today. He could sleep with Connor’s ex because he knew it would hurt them both, hurt them all, and feel like he had done his part. 

Evan watched it all happen with a sort of odd, detached interest. He watched himself from across the room, fucking Richard McLaren, making him moan and shake and be so fucking loud. Evan hated him. He watched himself actually roughly shove Richard’s face into a pillow so he might shut up be quiet stop making so much goddamn noise. He hated Richard. He hated who he was what he had done he hated that Richard had ever laid hands on Asher, had ever looked at Evan, had ever slept with Connor, Evan hated him and hated him and hated him until he was done. 

Finished. 

Spent. 

And then…

The gravity of what Evan had done rushed in. 

Evan had just slept with his boss. 

With Connor’s ex. 

With a man who had assaulted him, assaulted friends of his. 

And Evan had slept with him. On purpose. Evan knew what he was doing and did it anyway. He was so stupid, so fucking stupid, so fucking stupid and horrible and cruel and he had done this on purpose he had done this to hurt someone but he had alienated everyone so the only person left to hurt was himself. 

There was nobody else left to hurt. 

Nobody else left. 

Nobody else. 

Nobody.


	100. NINETY-NINE

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> “I thought you might come here."

When Connor gets back to the bookstore, Jax and Maureen are just about to leave. They’re both bundled up in jackets and gloves and hats. Jax is gently wrapping a scarf around Maureen’s neck, then using it to pull her in gently for a kiss. 

They don’t notice Connor for a moment and he can’t help but watch them. 

Even though it hurts his heart a little bit to see them so in love. 

So happy with each other. 

“Hi,” he says when they pull apart, smiling at them and trying to make it seem like he hasn’t just been creepily watching them. Maureen’s cheeks turn pink but she smiles at Connor. 

“Good drink with Andre?” she asks. 

“Yeah, we actually grabbed dinner,” Connor says with a nod. “It was good to catch up.” He brandishes the brown paper bag. “And he gave me fancy whisky.”

“Perks of having a friend who works at a liquor store,” Jax replies with a grin. “I know you love your pretentious asshole whisky.”

By this stage, it’s become a running joke, and Connor kind of loves it. 

“That I do,” he says. 

“Happy birthday for tomorrow,” says Maureen with a smile. “What are your plans for the day?”

“Just chilling,” Connor tells her with a smile of his own that he knows isn’t entirely convincing. “Just going to spend the day by myself, watching movies. I… I don’t really like my birthday.”

Maureen looks sad. Then she perks up. “We have a staff meeting on Monday, right? I’ll make cupcakes.”

“She does make great cupcakes,” says Jax fondly. 

“I look forward to it,” Connor replies with a real smile this time. “Have a great rest of your night, okay? Stay warm and be safe.”

With that, he heads upstairs. Takes off his jacket, gloves, scarf and hat and hangs them up to dry. Turns up the heating a little, takes off his boots and puts on another pair of socks, these thick, fuzzy socks that Evan bought him when he was in hospital after he woke up, socks with black cats on them that looks like Edgar. 

He should get rid of them, he knows, but they’re warm and they’re from Evan, and he can’t bring himself to get rid of anything from Evan. 

Not really. 

Evan did a good job getting his stuff out of Connor’s apartment at the end of August last year. He was thorough, because he always is, and took all his belongings. But it doesn’t mean there aren’t traces of him still here, even six months later. 

Most of them Connor’s kind of banished to the spare room, the room where Otis lived until just over a month ago. 

It’s so quiet. 

So fucking quiet. 

The only sounds he can hear are Edgar purring on his shoulder happily and that awful, unreal, continuous buzzing, like a fluorescent light bulb, like a horror sound effect, like a mosquito killer, like old dial-up internet, like radio static, like…

_ Reality is screaming. _

He remembers Otis saying that, that first day Connor invited him to stay. 

Maybe this is what it sounds like. 

He makes a hot chocolate. Gives Edgar some treats. Puts on some music, listens to David Bowie and Tegan and Sara and Mika and anything that’s loud and upbeat and might break this awful, foreboding feeling. 

It helps, a little. 

For a little while. 

Until it doesn’t, and the feeling gets worse and worse, the buzzing gets louder and louder and his heart begins to pound too fast. 

Too, too fast. 

“Something’s wrong,” he says to his cat. 

Edgar lets out a mournful meow, as if in agreement. 

There is something wrong. Connor knows it deep in his bones.

Wrong wrong wrong wrong wrong. 

He has to do something. 

There is something he has to do. 

He…

Connor puts on another pair of socks. Another sweater. Finds his warmest hat and puts that on, too. Pulls on his jacket, his boots, his gloves, his scarf. 

In his apartment that’s nice and warm, it’s overkill. 

But there’s something he has to do. He doesn’t know what the fuck it is, but it’s important and it involves getting out of this apartment. 

He makes sure Edgar has enough food. Tries not to cry at the way his cat meows and meows and cries and cries, like he’s trying to warn him, like he’s trying to communicate. 

Pets Edgar for a moment, scratches behind his ears. 

“Hey buddy,” he says gently. “I know. I know. There’s something not okay. I know. I’m gonna try to fix it, okay?”

He doesn’t know what he’s doing. 

Connor has no idea what the fuck he’s doing. 

He checks his pockets to make sure he’s got his keys. His wallet. His phone. 

Locks up the apartment. Leaves the thermostat on, makes sure it’s warm. 

Turns out all but one light to save energy. 

Heads down the stairs into the bookstore. Walks through the store in the dim gray light. Disarms the alarm, then arms it again, and heads out into the night. 

And walks. 

As he walks, it’s not as cold as it could be. He’s warm enough with his extra layers, his layers and layers and layers, his warm coat, his hat, his scarf. His face still stings with the cold wind, gets wet with snow, and he walks. 

Not even sure where it is that he’s going. 

Maybe ten minutes later, he finds himself outside Evan’s apartment building. 

And all of a sudden, he knows. 

Connor knows. 

He fishes around in his pockets for his keys. Lets himself into the building, because he still has keys, after all this time. He hasn’t used them in months, months and months, and it takes him a moment to get in, to remember what way to turn the handle, to remember the quirks. 

It’s hard to open, he remembers. Evan always used to help Mr. Abrahamson get inside because he was old and his hands shook and he couldn’t always get it open. 

Connor walks past the elevator and to the stairs. 

And starts to climb. 

Climb and climb and climb and climb. 

When he gets to the door to the roof, he can’t remember if he has the key for it or not, so he finds an old brick and props it open, makes sure that he doesn’t get stuck up here. Just in case. 

There’s a bench in the middle of the roof that Connor remembers so well, remembers sitting on with Evan just before he turned 28. Remembers crying for what felt like hours, sobbing, terrified that he’d lose Evan, terrified that he’d…

This is why he’s here, Connor realizes distantly. 

He knew, of course. 

He’s known all day. 

He’s known for months. 

Ever since Evan left, Connor’s somehow known that they’d end up here again. Here on this roof that haunts his nightmares, the roof where he talked Evan down, three years ago tomorrow. 

The roof where he couldn’t save him in an alternate universe he fought so, so hard to get back from. 

It’s still snowing, falling thick and hard and heavy.

Connor looks at the sky. 

No stars. 

Just snowflakes. 

If he squints, they look a little like stars. But not really. 

Too dull. 

It feels like forever but no time at all has passed when the door to the roof opens quietly. 

Evan steps out onto the roof. 

He’s not wearing a jacket, Connor notices immediately. Just a suit. A nice suit, one Connor doesn’t think he’s seen before. His maroon tie. 

Connor has always loved that tie. 

Evan stands for a moment, then starts to move toward the edge of the building, this awful, almost robotic motion. 

Connor can’t stand it.

“I thought you might come here,” he says, his voice loud enough to carry despite the wind.

Evan stops. 

Looks at him. Right at him. 

His eyes are flat, dull. 

Dead. 

Hopeless.

Connor feels a series of sharp tugs in his chest, like someone has grabbed his heart and ripped it in half, then again, then again. 

Evan looks at him, like he’s not surprised to see him. “You shouldn’t be here.”

“Neither should you,” Connor replies. 

* * *

Evan threw his clothes on quickly and efficiently. Richard smiled at him, far too cocky for someone who had just been begging Evan to choke him out a second ago, and said, “You know that you have something of a reputation.”

Evan stared. 

“Glad to see you live up to it,” Richard said with a smirk. 

Evan just looked at Richard for a second, his stomach churning with disgust. Evan wanted to be sick. 

“I’ll see you Monday.”

Evan made sure he had his keys and phone and cigarettes and left without a word. His head was buzzing, like a radio out of tune, like a flickering lightbulb, like the whine of a fly trapped between a window and a screen. 

His hands started shaking as his mind put together his plan. His plan that really, he woke up knowing this morning, he just didn’t want to see it. 

Evan knew he had to finish this. 

Had to finish it properly. Had to do this the right way. 

He called his mother. The call went to voicemail and Evan remembered, right, they’d had a fight and weren’t speaking, not really, not since Thanksgiving because his mom had visited Connor at the bookstore and Evan had been hurt that she seemed to always take the side of anyone who wasn’t Evan, and she called him a coward, and he called her one back and hadn’t returned her calls since the end of November. 

No wonder she didn’t answer. 

The message he left was brief. “Hi mom. I guess I missed you. I just wanted to call and say that… That I love you. And I know you did your best for me. And I’m sorry about all of it. The past few… decades. I would say months but we both know I’d be lying. I’m sorry. I was the one who fucked everything up, we both know that. And I know you did your best. I love you so much. I love you, mama.” 

He put his phone on Do Not Disturb. 

Got on the subway to get back home. 

On the way, he composed an email. To Connor. He set it to be delivered on the 27th. No need for Evan to ruin another one of Connor’s birthdays. 

“ _ Dear Connor Murphy…”  _

Evan stopped typing. 

Laughed at himself. 

Like he would be writing to any other Connor. 

He deleted the surname. 

_ “Dear Connor,  _

_ You were right. You were right about everything, about me. I am so sorry. I am so sorry that I’m like this. I know this isn’t what you wanted. I’m sorry for that too. You deserved so much better than anything I could ever give you. You deserve everything.  _

_ I know it’s too late, but I wanted you to know that I love you. I never stopped loving you. I never will. I love you. I will love you forever, I will love you until I can’t anymore. _

_ I am so sorry.  _

_ Be safe.  _

_ Evan”  _

Evan set the message to be delivered on February 27th once he got off of the subway. Then he turned off his phone. Smoked a cigarette on the way to his apartment building. Put it out on his arm to make sure he was real. To make sure he felt this. 

Evan wanted to feel this. 

He wanted to make sure he felt this. 

He made his way up the stairs, climbing slowly, methodically, all the way to the top of his building. To door that accessed the roof. It was propped open by an old brick, like someone had put it there to make sure nobody got stuck up there with only one way down. 

There was only one way down. 

At least for Evan, there had only ever been one way. 

Evan took a steadying breath and stepped out onto the roof of his apartment building. The wind was blowing hard, snow falling so thick and heavy it was hard to see at first. He started to walk toward the edge of the building when a voice startled him from the shadows, near one of the benches in the middle of the roof. 

“I thought you might come here.”

Evan turned to see Connor, bundled up in a jacket that Evan had never seen before with a hat and scarf and gloves. He looked pale and scared but… better than he had. A lot better. More himself.

Damn, Evan’s imagination was getting good these days. 

“You shouldn’t be here,” Evan said softly. 

“Neither should you.”


	101. ONE HUNDRED

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> "I’m going to keep you alive, I’m going to keep you safe. I’ve got you. I’m not letting you go.”

Connor stands up. Walks toward Evan, who’s still, so still, looking at him with this expression that’s… mildly intrigued but detached, removed, far away. 

Like he’s half-watching a movie and he hasn’t been paying attention but he’s pretending to care about what’s happening next.

Fuck, his eyes are so dead. So dull. Connor can’t…

“Let’s go back inside then,” he says after a moment. “Back to your apartment. Where it’s warm.”

Evan blinks. Lets out this laugh that’s more like a hiccup, like a blip. “You know that’s not what’s going to happen,” he says softly. “You know exactly what’s going to happen. It’s why you’re here. Why my brain brought you here.”

Connor lets that sink in for a moment. 

Evan thinks he isn’t real. 

That’s…

Okay. 

That’s expected. 

Connor’s been here before. 

He’s done this before he’s saved him before he can do this he can do this. 

His success rate is 50/50. 

Those are… not good odds. 

Not good odds at all. 

He wouldn’t take them. 

“I love you,” he says, taking a step toward Evan. His voice is steady, he’s surprised to notice. Not shaking, not desperate, just… steady and calm. “I love you and I can’t let you do this.”

Evan blinks. “You can’t stop me,” he says, almost smiling. “You’re not real.”

Connor reaches out his hand. 

Touches Evan’s arm. 

Holds it. 

Holds on tight. 

It doesn’t go through it doesn’t go through thank god thank god thank god. 

He holds onto Evan’s arm tight, and Evan lets out this hiss, then his eyes widen, ever so slightly. 

Connor holds on. 

“I’m real,” Connor insists. “Can you feel that? Feel me touching your arm? I’m real. I’m here. And I’m not going to let you jump. It’s… it’s not going to happen. Not tonight. Not ever. Because I love you. I know you don’t love me, that you stopped loving me or perhaps you never did but  _ I _ love  _ you, _ I love you so much that there’s no way I’m letting this happen. No way in heaven or hell, in this universe or…”

Evan pulls his arm away weakly but Connor doesn’t let go. He just holds on tighter. 

Evan looks at Connor’s gloved hand on his arm, then back at Connor. 

Laughs a little. 

“I just keep getting better at this,” he says, almost like he’s talking to himself. “My brain just… keeps getting better and better at showing me you. At torturing me. At making things worse.”

“I’m real,” Connor says again, holding onto Evan’s arm tighter. “And I’ve got you. I’ve got you.” As he speaks, he knows that what he’s saying is true, truer than anything he’s ever said before. “Because I love you. I will love you forever. I will love you until I can’t anymore. I’m going to keep you safe, Evan. I’m going to keep you alive, I’m going to keep you safe. I’ve got you. I’m not letting you go.”

“You’re not real,” Evan says again. 

Connor holds onto his arm tighter. “I am,” he insists. “You can… you can feel me touching you, right? That’s proof. It’s proof that I’m real. That I’m here.”

Evan stares at him, this tiny flicker of light in his eyes. Evan blinks.

Once. Twice. 

“Kiss me.”

Connor feels this horrible twisting in his chest. “I… Evan.”

“Prove you’re real,” Evan says, almost glaring at him. “Kiss me.”

“I can’t do that,” Connor croaks out. He wants to. Fuck, does he want to. But it wouldn’t help, it wouldn’t make anything better, it would… 

It would break his heart.

What’s left of it. 

Evan shakes his head. “Then I... I don’t want... you.”

Connor is dimly aware that he’s crying, hot tears mixing with cold snow on his face. “I know,” he says simply. “I know you don’t. That’s not… that’s not what I’m saying. I don’t give a fuck about that, Evan, all I care about is keeping you alive. Keeping you safe.”

Evan stares at him for a moment. 

The next words out of his mouth are so full of pain it almost knocks Connor over. 

“Please let me go. Just let me go? Please. Please, I… I can’t do this anymore, I just can’t, please just let me go. It’s always going to be like this, I am always going to be like this and I can’t bear it any longer. Please. Please, please, please just… just let me go.” 

* * *

“I’m real,” Connor insisted, his grip tightening on Evan’s arm. “And I’ve got you. I’ve got you.” There was something in his eyes that almost made Evan believe… And he wanted to believe, just believe, so he didn’t have to see what was really there. He’d rather pretend. Pretend his ex-boyfriend had come to save him from this mess that he was. Pretend that his Connor was here and really there and cared about him still. “Because I love you. I will love you forever. I will love you until I can’t anymore. I’m going to keep you safe, Evan. I’m going to keep you alive, I’m going to keep you safe. I’ve got you. I’m not letting you go.”

Those were Evan’s words, he realized. His brain was parroting back what he’d told Connor, in the hospital, with one hand on the plug that once turned off would end Connor. Maybe Connor hadn’t died in that room, but Evan thought  _ he  _ had. He had died there. The good parts of him, the worthy parts had died in that room and now he was stuck here, a cheap imitation of who he once was with a brain telling him seductive lies about why he shouldn’t just finish this. His brain was just repeating itself. He’d written that just now. He’d written it down. 

Evan had said that. 

“You’re not real,” Evan insisted stubbornly. 

Connor held even tighter onto Evan’s arm, pressing against burns painfully, but Evan’s brain had created that for him before. That proved nothing. “I am,” Connor said, sounding desperate. “You can… you can feel me touching you, right? That’s proof. It’s proof that I’m real. That I’m here.”

It wasn’t proof at all. It meant nothing. Evan stared at Connor, wide-eyed and confused because… maybe…

Maybe he was actually here. Maybe… 

Maybe it was real, maybe Connor was actually here, maybe he didn’t want Evan to die...

But. 

No. 

This was his brain, his fucking brain.

Evan blinked. Once. Twice. 

“Kiss me,” Evan said desperately. That would prove it. When he imagined Connor he would never kiss him, he wouldn’t ever...

Connor’s face fell. His eyes flooded. “I… Evan.”

“Prove you’re real,” Evan said, begged. “Kiss me.”

“I can’t do that,” Connor said, his voice hoarse and so fucking fucking sad. He looked so fucking broken, tears streaking down his face. 

Evan shook his head, angry. “Then I... I don’t want... you.”  Evan felt sick. He didn’t want a hallucination, he didn’t want the cheap knock off Connor his brain could produce who would repeat words that the real Connor had never even heard. He didn’t want that.

The Connor his imagination produced was crying, and Evan hated it even though it wasn’t real. “I know,” Connor said, “I know you don’t. That’s not… that’s not what I’m saying. I don’t give a fuck about that, Evan, all I care about is keeping you alive. Keeping you safe.”

But Evan didn’t want to be alive anymore. 

He couldn’t keep being alive anymore. 

He had to just… convince this imaginary Connor. He had to prove to him that Evan wasn’t worth saving. 

“Please let me go. Just let me go? Please. Please, I… I can’t do this anymore, I just can’t, please just let me go. It’s always going to be like this, I am always going to be like this and I can’t bear it any longer. Please. Please, please, please just… just let me go.” 

Evan was begging, he was begging and he didn’t care he didn’t care. 

“I’m not going to do that,” Connor said, his voice firm. 

His brain was a fucking dick, Evan thought. A massive asshole. Because it wanted to kill him but was insisting he go through some kind of gauntlet of torture first. And Evan understood because he deserved it, he deserved it, but it didn’t mean he didn’t hate it. He hated it. 

This Connor he could see in front of him was squeezing his arm tightly, so tightly it hurt, it hurt, and Evan didn’t even care. He was exhausted. He wanted to be done. He had to finish this, he had to finish it and be done. 

He had to be done. 

So he’d do whatever he had to do… He’d do whatever he had to do no matter how much it hurt. “Please,” He repeated, his voice pleading, desperate. “Please just let me go. Please. It’s not… it’s not going to get any better. I’m not going to get better. I just can’t do it anymore. I’ve… I’ve hurt everyone I-I break things, ruin them and I’ve ruined everything…. So please. Just let me go. Let me go.”

“No.”

“ _ Please _ Connor. Please I need to go. I have to do one thing right for once in my life, please. Please just let me do this.”

“I can’t... “ Connor said, his voice unbelievably gentle. “I can’t let you go. I hate that you’re in pain. I hate that you’re suffering, but I won’t let you do this. I won’t. This is not the way… It’s not the answer -”

“Please don’t give me that permanent solution to a temporary problem bullshit, Connor, you know this isn’t temporary it’s… I’m just like this. I’m always going to be like this.”

“No, you’re not,” Connor said insistently. “You’re not always going to be like this. You’re… You’re capable of change.”

“Bullshit,” Evan said. 

“I was an asshole before the loops,” Connor said. “I was awful. You and I both know that. And I got better, I… I learned to let people in. I changed. You can change.”

“Not this,” Evan said, shaking his head, because his resolve was cracking, and he needed to stay firm. He needed to be firm. “I can’t change  _ this _ .”

“Evan,” Connor said, his voice soft but firm, “I’m so sorry you’re hurting, I am so so sorry but I will not let you take yourself out of this world. I won’t.”

“Please,” Evan begged him, his eyes flooding. He had to do this he had to he had to he had to end this, he had to finish this. “Please Connor I can’t do it anymore, it hurts too much. It hurts, just all of the time, and I can’t breathe I can’t open my eyes without it hurting and I can’t keep going, I can’t. I can’t…  _ Please _ .”

“I’ve seen the world without you,” Connor said, his voice steady, his eyes glassy. “I’ve seen it and it’s… Horrible. Bleak. It’s so fucking sad without you there. The people who love you are… so crushed without you. So I can’t let you do this. I’m sorry you’re hurting but I’m not letting you do this. I can’t let you die. I can’t.”

Evan took a shuddering breath, tears spilling over. “Please.” It came out small, meek. He could try to pull his arm away, try to run or sprint over the side but… Evan was so fucking tired. He was so tired. He had no fight in him anymore. No fight. “Please just let me go… Please Connor.”

“I’m sorry,” Connor said. “I’m sorry, but I can’t let you. I love you and I can’t let you die. Not today.” 

Evan sniffled pitifully. “I don’t think I can keep going… I’m not sure I can do it anymore. I’ve been trying to… Trying to hold on for a while and I. I’m so tired. I’m so tired and I don’t know if I can hold on anymore. And I… I know I did it to myself, I know it’s all my fault but I’m always alone and I… I can’t hold on anymore. I can’t. It hurts too much.”

“Let me help then,” Connor said. “Let me help. I’ve got you, okay? I’ve got you.”

Evan took a shuddering breath. “I don’t… I don’t  _ deserve _ help. I’m terrible. I’m a fucking monster… And if you help it might not even work. I mean… Look at me. Three years later and nothing is even different. Things might… might even be worse because I… I fucked everything up so much. I fucked it up beyond repair.”

“No,” Connor said. “Not beyond repair.”

Evan couldn’t even begin to explain how untrue that was. How fucked up things had gotten. How bad he let things get because he… 

He wasn’t planning to survive this. 

Evan was hoping not to survive this.

“I’m so fucking sorry,” Evan said, his resolve starting to wobble. He didn’t know what was happening but Connor was here and he was holding on tight to Evan’s arm and Evan was so fucking tired of fighting against his brain, fighting to stay alive, fighting and fighting and fighting. “I don’t… I don’t know if anything, if any of this is even real.”

“I’m real,” Connor insisted, his grip on Evan’s arm tightening again painfully, pressing against a sore spot hard and Evan welcomed the pain because it felt like something it felt real. “I’m real and I’m here and I love you. And I’m not letting you kill yourself tonight Evan. I’m not.” 

Evan had no fight in him. He nodded. He couldn’t fight his brain anymore. He couldn’t. He wished this was the real Connor, he wished it was real but he wasn’t sure, Evan was just… he was too tired too exhausted to fight his brain anymore. 

He could always try again tomorrow, he supposed. Do better tomorrow. If it wasn’t real he could kill himself tomorrow.

He couldn’t fight anymore.

Not tonight. 

“Okay. Okay,” Evan said, and the tears were coming fast. He was so tired he just couldn’t hold it in he couldn’t keep himself together anymore he was shaking so badly he was shaking and exhausted and it all hurt he felt everything so much he always felt everything so much too much it was like reality was screaming. 

“Okay,” Connor said, breathing out audibly. Evan felt Connor’s grip slacken ever so slightly. His hand moved down to take Evan’s hand in his. “Just let me help. I want to help. Please?”

“Okay.” Evan nodded. “Okay.”


	102. ONE HUNDRED AND ONE

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> "Ever since I left, it just hurts. I’m so fucking tired of it hurting.”

Evan’s hands are cold, Connor can tell, even through his gloves. 

That isn’t right. It’s not right, Connor’s supposed to be the one with cold hands. 

Evan’s hands are supposed to be warm.

Evan is supposed to be warm. 

He’s not, though, and Connor starts to realize that it’s because he’s soaked, Evan’s soaked through, the snow and the wind soaking through his suit, his hair, all of him. 

God, he’s so thin. 

So thin, it’s scary, like he’s wasting away, like he’s disappearing, like he’s trying to make himself disappear. 

Fuck. 

Fuck. 

Connor hates this he hates it so much. 

But Evan’s holding his hand and he’s nodding and he said that he’d let Connor help him, and that’s good, that’s important, that’s… 

Fuck. 

“We need to get off the roof,” Connor says, pulling Evan’s hand gently. “Come on.”

Evan’s shaking now, shaking visibly, and it reminds Connor of how he shook, how he was always shaking from the cold when he first got back, when he first woke up, and how when he shook, Evan would hold him until he was warm again. 

All Connor wants to do is pull Evan close to him, cover him with kisses, keep him safe keep him safe keep him safe. 

_ “Then I don’t want you.” _

Connor slings his arm around Evan’s shoulder, the way he used to when they were just friends, because he can do this, he can put aside his feelings, he can bury the fact that the man he loves doesn’t want him, doesn’t love him, his feelings don’t fucking matter here. What matters is getting Evan off this roof in one piece. 

Getting him somewhere safe. 

He gently guides Evan toward the door. It’s slow going because Evan’s shaking, he’s shaking so hard he can barely walk, but Connor’s patient, he can be patient sometimes, and this is the time for it. 

He gets Evan through the door. To the elevator. 

Holds onto him tight by his shoulders as the elevator takes them to Evan’s floor. 

He remembers making out with Evan in this elevator on New Year’s Eve, remembers how they couldn’t keep their hands off each other, remembers how he’d just wanted to touch Evan, touch him everywhere, prove to himself that he was real and happy and alive and loved him and-

_ Stop it, _ he tells himself firmly. 

There’s no point torturing himself even more. 

When they get to Evan’s apartment, Connor uses his keys to let them in. Evan doesn’t seem to even notice, or if he does notice, he doesn’t care, or if he does care, he doesn’t comment. 

The apartment is empty. 

Of course it’s empty, Connor thinks to himself distantly. Alex and Mattie are never home, they’re working almost constantly. 

Part of him had hoped they’d be here, hoped they could tap in, hoped they could help, but they’re not here, they’re not, and he…

He can’t leave Evan here. 

He can’t stay here with Evan, either. Not this close to that fucking roof. 

“Okay,” says Connor, guiding Evan to his room, almost by muscle memory, because it’s been so fucking long since he’s been here but he’d never forget, he’ll never forget. “I’m going to take you back to my place, okay? It’s warm and you’ll be safe there. Me and Edgar will look after you.”

“Okay,” says Evan, and it’s like he’s not even there. He looks exhausted, down to the bone tired.

Connor deposits Evan onto his bed and he sits there for a moment, looking dazed. Connor goes to the closet, pulls out a backpack and puts it on the bed. “Okay,” he says quietly. “So. Can you pack some clothes for a couple of days? You’re going to come stay with me, so you’ll need some clothes.” 

Evan nods. “Okay.”

Connor doesn’t want to ask, but he does anyway. “Do you have your meds?”

Evan shakes his head. “Stopped taking them,” he says, in this distant, faraway voice, and Connor’s not surprised but it still fucking hurts. 

“Okay,” Connor says. “You’re okay, Evan. Can you pack up some clothes?”

Evan nods. “Yeah. Okay.” 

It takes a moment, but he stands up. Goes to his dresser. Starts packing up some clothes, almost mechanically, like he’s not really aware of what he’s doing. 

This is bad this is bad this is really bad really fucking bad. 

He doesn’t know how to fix this. 

He has no idea how to fix this. 

But he has to try. He has to fucking try. 

* * *

This probably wasn’t real, but Evan was just… going with it. He was too tired to try to fight his brain on the concept of reality tonight. He surrendered. Brain, 1; Evan Hansen, 0. 

Connor was taking him home. 

He kept talking to Evan in this calm, steady voice. Prompting him to pack a bag with clothes for a couple of days. Telling him he was okay. 

Evan wasn’t okay, but he listened because he was too tired to fight his brain anymore. If his brain wanted to imagine a scenario where Connor talked him off of a roof again and insisted Evan come home with him to stay safe and try to avoid dying, he’d let it. His brain won out. He always did have a good imagination. 

“Hey,” Connor said gently once Evan had packed his things up. “You should probably change out of those clothes.” 

His clothes…?

Oh. 

Right. 

It had been snowing, and Evan had left his jacket at the office. Or maybe at Richard’s? Or at that bar? But Evan was cold and he was wet. His suit was soaked through and he was cold and shivering and… right. 

Connor had been wearing a proper coat. Hat, gloves. 

In high school he never wore a jacket, and Evan had obsessed about it. 

His brain was having so much fun with him right now. 

Whatever, his brain could win. 

“Right,” Evan said. He undid his tie, casting it to the floor. Maroon tie, the one he used to wear a lot because Connor liked it, liked to kiss him by pulling on it, but Evan had stopped wearing it months ago because he didn’t kiss Connor anymore, didn’t see him anymore. He’d only put it on today because. 

Well. 

His brain didn’t want him to think about that. 

Okay, brain, you win. 

His imaginary Connor wouldn’t even kiss him.

Evan shrugged off his suit coat. Hung it over his desk chair. Toed off his shoes, also soaked. His toes ached with the cold. When had it gotten this cold?

Evan went for his belt and then remembered. Richard. Fuck.

This might be a hallucination, but he couldn’t lie to Connor. Evan could never lie to him, no matter how much he wanted to lie to him, not really. “I slept with Richard.”

Connor looked horribly, horribly sad. “What?”

“Richard McLaren. I slept with him.” Evan undid his belt, pulled it off. It matched his shoes. Evan had looked nice today. He dropped the belt to the floor. “Tonight. Maybe… maybe a couple of hours ago?”

Connor looked sick. 

“He really wanted… I don’t know what he wanted.” Evan almost laughed. “I don’t really feel anything? Is that normal? Not to feel stuff? Because usually I… Usually I feel  _ everything _ . All the time. Constantly, just everything. But I didn’t. When I fucked Richard, I didn’t feel anything. Is that normal?”

Connor looked like he might cry. 

“I’m sorry,” Evan said. “I know you hate him. Fuck, I mean. I hate him. Don’t know… I don’t know what I was thinking.” He blinked a few times, trying to gauge what, if anything, he felt, but all that came up with a sort of… vague and undefined feeling of disgust. “I’m sorry.”

“It’s okay.”

Evan laughed then, this sort of dull bitter noise that wasn’t actually a laugh. “It felt like cheating. Like I was cheating on you? How stupid is that? I broke up with you so you could be safe and then slept with your ex and it felt like cheating. I’m so stupid. I’m so fucking stupid.”

“Evan…” Connor looked so fucking sad. 

“I shouldn’t have done it,” Evan said, shaking his head. “He’s my boss. And a total creep and…It was horrible. It was really fucking horrible and it just made me miss you. I’m so fucking stupid and… It just made me miss you so much. I shouldn’t have done it because…” 

_ Because I love you.  _

_ You’re in my mind but I still don’t want to hurt you, I never want to hurt you, never.  _

“Don’t worry about that right now,” Connor said softly. “Let’s just get you out of those wet clothes, yeah?”

Evan nodded. Pulled off his pants, stepped out of them and kicked them into the hamper in the closet. Tried not to feel gross about having taken them off for Richard, tried not to think about the evidence that was smeared inside of the fly. 

Evan unbuttoned his shirt, but hesitated. He should warn Connor… he should… 

It wasn’t real it didn’t matter. 

Connor took a sharp breath in when Evan stripped down to his boxers. 

He turned toward his dresser, grabbed the first clean shirt he saw. NYU School of Law. He pulled it on. 

It didn’t really cover up what he was hiding though. 

Evan looked around for some jeans… pulled on the first pair he saw quickly, then flinched because this pair was too big on him these days… They hung off of his hips awkwardly. When had he stopped fitting in his clothes?

It didn’t matter. 

He hadn’t been self-conscious when he was getting naked for Richard. Why start now?

This was in his head anyway.

Connor was still staring, his mouth slightly open, looking scared and horrified and… Well. He took a few steps closer, closing the gap between them, taking Evan’s hand in his and gently turning over his arm to expose the patchwork quilt of harms Evan had collected, the litany of ways he had tried to punish himself and make himself real again.

It wasn’t all that unexpected, Evan supposed. That Connor was horrified. Evan should be horrified to see what he was doing to himself, he should be horrified to see how easy it had been to wreck himself but Evan was just used to it now. 

“Have you… you’ve been doing that? To yourself?” 

Evan nodded. What would be the point in denying it anyway? It was obvious and right in front of him. “When stuff doesn’t… feel real.” 

Like now. 

Connor swallowed audibly. He looked like he might cry. 

“It’s really fine,” Evan said. “It doesn’t even hurt most of the time. Most of the time I don’t even feel it...”

Connor wiped his eyes quickly. “We should get going. You ready? Where is your jacket?” Connor asked him. 

Evan shrugged. “Left it, I think. At work, maybe? I dunno. Not here.”

“Okay,” Connor frowned. “Do you have a hoodie or… something warm? It’s snowing.”

Right. Snow. There had been so much snow, like television static, getting under his eyelids and blurring everything until this seemed real.

Evan shivered. 

Right. It was cold. He was cold.

Evan located an old zip hoodie, faded but warm. He pulled it on and struggled to zip it with his shaking hands. Because he was shivering. Because he was supposed to be dead by now.

Connor gently moved his hands out of the way. Zipped the hoodie up for Evan. “I’ll call us a Lyft,” he said quietly. 

“I died in a Lyft once,” Evan said. 

“I know.”

“I…” Evan stopped talking for a moment. “Is this really happening?”

“Yeah,” Connor answered him. “It’s really happening.”

“You don’t need to take care of me,” Evan went on. “Because I know I fucked everything up, I was horrible and cruel and… I fucked it all up. You should just leave me here. You shouldn’t help me.”

Connor looked at him for a long moment, then said, “Our ride’s almost here. Can you put on your shoes?”

Evan found his old sneakers and put them on. Old converse. A heart, faded, on the rubber.

He was exhausted. Just down to the bone tired. His brain had won this round, had beaten him handedly. He just wanted to sleep. He just wanted to stop. 

“Come on,” Connor said, prompting Evan to get back on his feet. “Let’s go to my place.” 

“It hurts,” Evan said suddenly. “All of the time. Ever since… Ever since I left, it just hurts. I’m so… so fucking tired of it hurting.”

“I know,” Connor said. He wrapped his arm around Evan’s shoulders tightly. “I know it does. It’ll be okay. Come on. Come back with me. I got you, okay? I got you.”

“Okay.”


	103. ONE HUNDRED AND TWO

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> “When we were together, we were happy, weren’t we? I can’t remember anymore."

Connor walks Evan to the elevator, not trusting either of them with the stairs. Carries his backpack. Slings his arm around his shoulders and holds onto him tight, as tight as he can, as tight as he’s allowed, even though all he wants to do is pull Evan into a hug and never ever ever let him go. 

Their Lyft is waiting for them outside. 

He helps Evan into the car, smiles at the Lyft driver, confirms their destination and resists the urge to just reach out and grab Evan’s hand, hold it tight and never let it go. 

It’s not a long drive, but it feels like one, and Connor’s brain won’t stop looping the image of the burns covering Evan’s arms and the mental image of Evan fucking Richard, over and over again. 

He doesn’t know which is worse. All he knows is that…

They’re the same, almost. They’re the fucking same, they’re ways that Evan’s hurt himself, ways to cause himself pain. 

Fuck. 

Connor’s disgusted with himself for ever having touched Richard, for having ever listened to a word the man said, for spending a whole fucking year as one of many pieces of the side. He remembers Evan telling him how Richard had assaulted him when he was an intern. 

Remembers how Evan had been… vulnerable, after telling Connor the full story, the September after they first met. 

How he’d flinched at contact, how Connor had quickly learned to check in, how the next time they’d had sex Evan had been careful, cautious, how they’d checked in almost constantly to make sure the other was still with them. 

Connor has this brief, uneasy flash of memory of being seventeen years old and Jared Kleinman kissing him, catching him unaware in the boy’s bathroom, how he’d frozen, how he’d felt like he didn’t have any fucking control, how he’d…

It’s not the same, Connor knows, it’s not anywhere near the same, he doesn’t know why he’s thinking about that right now. That doesn’t matter, it doesn’t matter at all. 

Evan’s watching him, Connor realizes. 

Watching him with those dead, dull, sad eyes.

The images keep flashing in Connor’s brain on a never-ending cycle. 

Evan and Richard. 

The burns on Evan’s arms. Small, circular… cigarette burns. Like he was putting the cigarettes out on his skin,  _ fuck. _

Fuck. 

Evan just keeps watching him. 

“You still with me?” Connor asks, his voice soft. 

Evan nods. 

Doesn’t take his eyes off him. 

Connor gets it. He doesn’t want to take his eyes off Evan, either. Part of him is afraid they’re both still on the roof, and Connor’s hand went right through Evan’s arm. 

_ That didn’t happen, _ Connor reminds himself.  _ Not this time. _

Two to one. 

The odds have changed. 

They’re better now. 

Connor’s going to take that as a win. As a promise that this will all work out. A reason to believe they’ll be okay. 

* * *

Evan kept watching Connor, waiting for a sign, a signal, a blip in the hallucination to confirm to him that none of this was real. It hadn’t happened yet. His brain was getting really fucking good at lying to him, Evan thought. Really good. Eerily good. 

This Connor was so real looking. So lifelike. He looked good. Better than he’d looked when Evan had seen him last, too skinny and too pale outside of his apartment, shivering even though it was barely September. 

In real life, Evan hadn’t seen Connor since September. That was so long ago.

“You still with me?” Connor asked. 

Evan nodded. He was afraid to speak in case he alerted the Lyft driver to the fact that he was talking to himself, imagining things, hallucinating. Hallucinating. 

The clock on the dashboard said it was 12:34. 1234. He always liked that time when he was a kid, liked how the numbers lined up. 

Connor looked better. More like himself. Less skinny and frail. His hair looked nice, the ends more bluntly cut like he had gotten it trimmed or something. 

Evan had missed him so much. It was nice to see him. So nice to see him again. So fucking nice. Connor was so beautiful. Evan could look at him for hours, for days, and never get tired of it. He just watched him, as they got out of the car together. Watched him as he unlocked the door and prompted Evan to follow him inside. Evan watched. 

The security code for the alarm system was different now, Evan noticed, watching Connor type it in on the keypad. It used to be Gladys and Martha’s wedding anniversary date, but now it was… 

Now it was 022619. 

February 26th, 2019. Connor’s twenty-seventh birthday. The day that never ended. The day Evan and Connor died. And died and died and died. The day they met each other again. 

Connor was becoming a sap in his old age, Evan thought distantly. 

Then he remembered it was Connor’s birthday and nearly started to cry. 

“Hmm?” Connor said, turning to look at him. “What’s going on?”

“It’s your birthday,” Evan said softly. “And I didn’t get you anything.”

“It’s okay,” Connor said, his arm around Evan’s shoulder as he reset the alarm. “It’s okay, you’re okay.”

“I didn’t… I didn’t think I would get to see you,” he said softly. “I didn’t think I’d ever… I didn’t think I’d ever see you again. I didn’t… I’m so fucking sorry.”

“I know,” Connor said, his arm warm and reassuring around Evan’s shoulders. “Let’s get you to bed.”

Evan changed into his sweats once he was in Connor’s room. His dresser was gone. Connor hadn’t kept it. 

Evan didn’t blame him.

In fact, he hoped Connor had gotten rid of everything that reminded him of Evan. Exorcised Evan from his life. Moved on. Got happy. 

“You look exhausted,” Connor said to him. 

“I haven’t slept in… in a while,” Evan said honestly, because he was too tired for lying, because his brain had won out, because he had no fight left in him. “A few days at least. I’ve been drinking… a lot of coffee? And adderall, I scammed a script from Mattie for that again.”

“Why haven’t you been sleeping?” Connor asked him. 

“Because when I sleep, all I dream about is you,” Evan admitted, his tongue loose from fatigue and sadness and whisky and the fact that none of this was real. “I dream about you all the time. And it just hurts. It hurts and hurts and I can’t turn it off.” 

This was in his head, in his mind, he was imagining this. Evan was allowed to say whatever he wanted. He was allowed to be honest for once in his fucking life.

“I had this dream, maybe a month ago? You… In the dream it was your birthday. You asked me to move in with you. I said yes,” Evan said, his eyes tearing up unexpectedly. “And we were scared because it was your birthday but we were… we were really happy, Connor. We were happy. And it hurt to see.”

Connor looked surprised but he nodded. 

“Were we?” Evan asked after a few minutes. 

“Were we what?”

“Happy?” Evan asked. “When we were together, we were happy, weren’t we? I can’t remember anymore. I can’t remember anything… I pushed it all down. But we were, weren’t we? We were happy?”

Connor gave him this painful looking smile. “Yeah. We were happy.”

“I hate missing you,” Evan confessed. 

“I hate it too.”

He was surprised when Connor told him to get into bed, but didn’t argue. Evan expected even his fantasy would make him sleep on the sofa. His imagination was rarely so kind. So Evan climbed into bed, into bed with Connor, and he turned on his side and looked at Connor doing the same. In the dim light, Connor’s eyes looked so bright, so wonderful, the best sort of a dream. 

“I’m so sorry,” Evan said softly to him. “About everything. I’m so sorry.”

“I know,” Connor said. 

Evan grabbed Connor’s hand loosely in his own. “I never should have left… I never should have… I’m so fucking sorry for everything I did to you. You deserved so much better than me. So much more. I’m so fucking sorry.”

“Close your eyes,” Connor said gently. “You look exhausted. You should try to sleep.” 

He didn’t let go of Evan’s hand. He gave it a tight squeeze, his thumb rubbing a slow circle on Evan’s first knuckle, soft and warm and gentle. He turned his head slightly, looking up at the ceiling for a moment and Evan spotted something strange and new behind Connor’s ear. 

A tattoo. 

A new tattoo, of a feather. Delicate and detailed, beautiful and intricate, something Evan hadn’t seen before. His mind skipped back, back to a dream, something unreal, to Connor’s funeral even though he didn’t die, to Maureen standing at a podium and reading Emily Dickinson, reading about hope being the thing with feathers… “That’s new,” Evan said softly. 

“What?” Connor said, turning to look at him, his eyes beautiful even in the darkness. 

“Your tattoo. The-the feather. I’ve never seen it before. It’s nice. New… Pretty.”

“I got it done around Christmas,” Connor said, his voice soft. A little sad. “Me and Zoe got matching ones.” 

Evan’s heart squeezed painfully. Fuck. Zoe. He missed Zoe… he missed Connor so much and he missed Zoe. He missed the life he had ruined. He missed it all. His eyes started to tear up again, and Connor just kept on holding his hand, tracing circles on Evan’s hand with his thumb. “I am so fucking sorry,” He whispered. “I fucked everything up, Connor. I ruined everything and I am so. So sorry.” 

“I know,” Connor said softly. “I know you are.”

“Please… please don’t leave,” Evan whispered, his words slurring. He was so fucking tired. “Please don’t go Connor… I’ll do whatever you want just don’t go please.” 

“Not going anywhere,” Connor’s voice said softly. 

“You’ll be here?” Evan asked, his voice raw, as more tears spilling down his cheeks. “When I wake up, you’ll be here?”

“Yes, I’ll be here. Not going anywhere. Close your eyes for me, okay? You look exhausted.”

Evan obeyed, shutting his eyes. 

“I’m gonna keep you safe, okay? Just… I’ve got you. I’m going to keep you safe, I promise,” Connor said gently. 

“Okay.”

“Now go to sleep.”

So Evan slept. 

* * *

Connor doesn’t sleep well. 

He drifts, a little, in and out, but between the knowledge that it’s the three year anniversary of dying and dying and dying and the desperate need to keep checking that Evan’s still there, still breathing, it’s not a restful night. 

Evan sleeps through, though, which Connor’s thankful for. 

Especially since it sure as hell looks like he needs it. 

Connor can’t help but watch Evan, curled up in bed next to him, even though he knows it’s creepy. Even though he knows he doesn’t have that right anymore, because Evan’s not his, Evan...

_ “I don’t want you.” _

Fuck, that hurts. It hurts to get confirmation of what Connor already knew, that Evan doesn’t love him, doesn’t want him. 

It fucking hurts. 

But how Connor feels doesn’t matter right now, because Evan is in pain. 

Evan is suffering. 

It hurts Connor’s heart to see just how much he’s suffering. 

He’s too thin, Connor notices, far too thin, basically skin and bones, and it’s not right, it’s not how it’s supposed to be. He looks older, so much older, like the months apart were years, like life had beaten the youth right out of him, but he’s still Connor’s Evan, he’s still the man he fell in love with, the man he died with, over and over and over again. 

No matter what it costs, Connor will not let either of them die again. 

Not today. 

Not for a very, very long time, if he can help it. 

He needs to keep Evan alive. He needs to keep him safe. 

_ How did it get this bad? _ Connor thinks to himself as he watches Evan breathe in the dim light of his bedroom.  _ How did no one see how bad he was? _

He knows, of course, exactly why no one saw. 

Because Evan didn’t want them to. Because Evan hid it. 

He’s good at hiding things, Connor knows that. Knows that so well. 

Fuck. He can’t stop thinking about the marks all over Evan’s arms and legs, the burns, evidence of how much he’s hurting and no one saw, no one stopped him, no one helped, fuck,  _ fuck.  _

_ No more, _ Connor promises himself.  _ No more. _

He’s going to keep Evan alive. He’s going to keep him safe.

  
  


When Connor wakes up, not remembering falling asleep, Evan is wrapped around him like a vine, his head in the crook of Connor’s neck, and Connor just… 

Lets him stay there. 

For longer than he should. 

Trying not to cry, because he’s missed this, he’s missed everything about this. 

But that’s not important right now. 

What’s important is keeping Evan alive. Keeping him safe. 

After a moment, Connor sets about gently removing himself from Evan’s grasp, slowly and carefully, trying not to wake him up. It takes a while, but he gets there and Evan sleeps on, snoring gently. 

Connor looks at Evan in the morning light. 

He looks tired. 

Even when he’s sleeping, he looks tired. 

It hurts Connor’s heart to see him like this. It hurts it hurts it hurts. 

But Connor’s feelings don’t matter here. 

What matters is keeping Evan alive. Keeping him safe. 

Edgar climbs up on the bed and lets out a meow. Connor looks at his cat sternly. 

“No,” he says firmly. “Quiet. Don’t wake him up.”

Edgar lets out the tiniest, smallest little meow, then curls up at the foot of the bed protectively, watching Evan intently. 

Connor feels a little better about leaving Evan here if Edgar’s looking out for him. 

He feels… sore, he realizes. Sore and cold. Normally he’d be too scared to shower today, he’d be too scared he’d slip and fall and break his neck, but he can’t let that kind of fear take control today, because... 

He needs to be in fighting form today, he realizes. 

Because Evan needs him. 

Connor grabs a change of clothes, then heads to the bathroom and, very carefully, showers. He stays in longer than he probably should, letting the hot water warm him through, washing his hair, letting himself wake up properly, then turns off the water and carefully gets changed. 

Decides not to risk drying his hair, even though it’s a little cold. 

He’ll just turn up the thermostat. His dad did pay for the brand new heating in the apartment, after all. 

His dad says that the money from the hospital lawsuit will cover the apartment heating, Connor remembers as he’s towel drying his hair. Because the whole reason they had to install the heating was because Connor woke up from a coma with hypothermia and the doctors can’t tell them why. 

The lawsuit that’s still going on. The lawsuit that Evan helped with, that Evan provided so much information for. 

Even though Connor kind of hates that there’s a lawsuit at all, given that this whole fucking mess had less to do with hospital incompetence and more to do with the fuckery of the universe, he’s starting to put together a plan, and the lawsuit…

It might be important. 

Connor goes back into his room and grabs his phone. It’s just before 8am back home, and he knows that his dad is an early riser. He heads to the living room and makes a call. 

His dad answers after three rings. “Connor? Is everything okay?”

“Sorry to call so early,” Connor says, his voice quiet. “I, uh, I had a question? About the lawsuit.”

There’s silence from the other end of the line. “Are you okay? You’re not… you’re not sick, are you? Where are you?”

“I’m fine,” Connor assures him in a hurry. “I’m at home, I’m fine, I just…” He lets out a rush of air. “I don’t know how to say this so I’m just going to say it… Evan’s here? And he’s not… he’s not well, Dad, he’s really, really not well and I think he needs help. Proper, full-time help, like… like a treatment facility or something, it’s really bad.” He swallows, trying to keep his voice even. “But that’s expensive, and he’s going to argue about it and I… I just want some leverage, you know how much he likes to argue.”

“He’s at your apartment?” Larry says, sounding genuinely surprised. “Did he… did he come to you?”

Connor shakes his head. “I… I had a feeling? So I went to his apartment last night and I… I had to talk him off the roof, Dad, it’s bad, it’s really bad and he needs  _ help.” _

His dad lets out a shaky breath. “But he’s safe? And you’re safe?”

“Yes,” Connor says firmly. “I will keep him safe. I just… I need a game plan. So I want to know if there’s any possibility that the lawsuit can pay for Evan to go somewhere to get well.” He steadies his shoulders, preparing for a fight. “I think it should. You know that what happened to me affected him, you  _ know _ that. And he helped you, he helped with research, you said it yourself that he-”

“Connor,” his dad interrupts. “Of course the lawsuit should cover this. Of course.”

Connor feels himself almost sag with relief. “Thank you. Thank you. Fuck.”

He rubs his face. 

“I’ll be in the city next week,” Connor’s dad says, his voice calm and even. “We can talk about it more then, okay? Unless you need me to fly out today-”

“It’s okay,” Connor assures him. “I… that’d probably overwhelm him. Today we’re just going to… chill out, lay low.”

There’s a pause on the other end of the line. “It’s your birthday,” his dad says, his voice softer. “Happy Birthday, Connor.”

“Thanks,” says Connor. 

“I love you. Be safe.”

“I love you too,” says Connor to his dad, because somewhere along the line, they became people who said that kind of thing to each other. 

He doesn’t hate it. 


	104. ONE HUNDRED AND THREE

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> “I care about you. Let me help.”

When Connor’s finished the phone call, he goes to the kitchen and takes a bottle of iced coffee out of the fridge. Pours himself a glass and drinks it all in one go.

He’d really rather a hot cup, but he’s not about to turn on the kettle today. That just seems like tempting fate. 

He pours himself another glass of iced coffee, because he’s just so fucking tired, then takes a moment to go through his mental checklist of things he needs to do. 

First, he goes through the entire apartment, top to bottom and removes anything sharp. Anything dangerous. Anything Evan could use to hurt himself. He puts them in a box, tapes the box shut then goes downstairs and puts it in the staff break room in the bookstore, taking a moment to check in on Evan before he does. 

Evan’s still sleeping, Edgar curled up on Connor’s pillow beside him. 

Snoring gently. 

Still alive. 

Once that’s done and he’s happy the apartment is safe, Connor takes his phone out of his pocket and starts composing a text to Alex. 

It takes him a long time to figure out what to say. 

**Hey Alex, Connor here. Just letting you know Evan’s at my apartment. I’m keeping him safe.**

It’s probably not enough information but he doesn’t know what else to say at this point. It’s… too big for a text message. Too terrifying. 

Just… too much. 

Maybe twenty minutes later, the front door to his apartment opens and Zoe lets herself in. She’s carrying a box of donuts and two coffees and she smiles when she sees him. “Happy Birthday!”

“Thank you,” he says, smiling. She puts the coffee cups and donuts down, then pulls him into a huge hug. 

“Okay,” she says, her voice loud and enthusiastic. “So, here’s what I’m thinking for the day. We should go to that burger place we went to with Mom that time for lunch, with the alcoholic milkshakes? Then I was talking to Mariah and I know you didn’t want anything big for your birthday, but I was talking to the bookstore kids and there’s that really cute bar that’s got all these books in it? We should all go tonight. It’d be great.”

“Zo,” Connor says without thinking. “Could you keep it down, Evan’s asleep.”

Zoe’s eyes widen and she stares at him for a full minute. 

“I’m sorry, what?” she says finally, her face blank. “I could swear you just told me to keep it down because Evan’s asleep, which is completely crazy because _Evan_ _left you_ a month after you got out of hospital after nearly dying and you wouldn’t be fucking stupid enough to get back together with him.”

“We’re not back together,” says Connor, grabbing Zoe by the elbow and ushering her out into the hallway so that there’s no way Evan can overhear their conversation, even if she has woken him up. “Zoe, it’s not like that.”

“Then what is it like?” Zoe demands. “You’re doing the whole fuck buddies thing again? With the guy you told me was the love of your life? Why would you do that to yourself?”

“I didn’t sleep with him,” Connor insists. “I… I saved his life.”

Zoe’s face goes completely white. “You what?”

“I… I had a feeling,” Connor says weakly, and he knows how stupid it sounds. “I just… I knew he wasn’t good, Zoe, I just knew, so I… I waited for him on the roof of his apartment last night.”

Zoe shakes her head, her eyes wide. “You didn’t. For fuck’s sake, Connor, why would you-”

“And he showed up,” Connor interrupts her. “He was going to jump, Zo, he was going to jump, he wanted to die. It took everything I had to get him down but I did, I got him down from there and I took him home and I kept him  _ safe.  _ And I’m going to keep him safe today. I need to keep him safe.”

Zoe’s eyes well up with tears and she looks so angry. “Evan isn’t your responsibility, Connor, he  _ left _ you!”

“He’s hurting,” Connor says simply. “He’s in pain. He’s been in pain for… a really long time, there is something seriously wrong, and I  _ knew, _ and I…” He rubs his face, trying desperately not to cry himself, because he has to be strong. “He’s in pain, Zo, and I can’t do nothing. I can’t leave him alone. Not today.”

Zoe stares at him, tears falling down her cheeks, eyes blazing with fury. “You shouldn’t have to do this,” she says stubbornly. “You can’t do this, you can’t protect him, you can’t just swoop in and save him-”

“Of course I can’t,” Connor interjects with a shake of his head. “He has to save himself. He has to do this himself.” He blinks a few times. Rubs his face again. “But just because he has to do it himself doesn’t mean he has to do it alone.” 

* * *

Evan did not want to open his eyes. 

Because if he opened his eyes, he knew it would disappear. The dream or… or nightmare, hallucination, whatever of Connor waiting for him on his roof, of taking Evan home with him and promising to keep him safe… he knew if he opened his eyes it would vanish. Disappear. 

He wanted to keep it so badly. 

Well. 

He wanted to keep that part. 

Evan did not want to keep the rest. That could go. He would rather not hold on to the memory of fucking Richard. Or think about the email he had drafted to deliver to Connor the day after his birthday. Or recall the message he left for his mom - vague, but telling, because he would never just leave her a voicemail to say he loved her. 

That was the bad part of the hallucination and Evan didn’t like that part. 

So he kept his eyes shut, curled up in bed. The sheets smelled like Connor, Evan thought. Olfactory hallucinations were new, but he didn’t mind. The sheets smelled like Connor’s body wash and his laundry detergent. It was warm and safe and he did not want to open his eyes because once he did, Evan would realize he was at home, in his bed, alone. He would wake up totally and the moment with Connor wouldn’t have happened and.

He would want to kill himself again. 

The hallucination, dream, whatever? It was better… 

“Mrow.”

Evan’s eyes snapped open. 

Edgar Allan Paw pushed his little kitty nose against Evan’s mouth, sniffing. Then he rubbed his head against Evan’s cheek. 

Oh god. 

Evan sat up. 

He was in Connor’s bed. In Connor’s room, in the bookstore apartment, with Connor’s cat. 

His head was swimming a bit. 

Oh god it was… real? 

It had really happened?

Edgar meowed again and Evan reached out his hand, petting his head and scratching behind his ears. He could feel Edgar’s soft fur, he could feel the vibration of Edgar purring and fuck. 

_ Fuck _ .

Fuck it was real. 

Fuck. 

Fuck he needed to… he needed to go. Evan didn’t belong here. He couldn’t face Connor. He started to get up and then his knees gave out because. 

He had died on this day, three years ago. 

He had died twenty times. 

Evan had died twenty times and he wanted to die again and he’d slept with fucking Richard he’d slept with Richard McLaren, he had broken Connor’s heart and made him save Evan again, he was disgusting, foul, horrible, awful, despicable -

“Hey.”

Fuck. 

Connor was back. 

“What are you doing on the floor?”

Evan shook his head, sort of helplessly, not sure where to even start. He was on the floor because he wanted to die but was scared he’d die. He was on the floor because he needed to leave but he wanted to dive into Connor’s arms and beg him to keep him. He was on the floor because he didn’t know what came next if he got up. 

“Do you want to watch a movie?” Connor asked him then. 

“I… I figured you’d want me to go,” he said. “I’ve already inconvenienced you a lot, and-and it’s your birthday you m-might want to see people, and you hate me so I sh-should-”

“I don’t hate you,” Connor said. He sounded tired. He was thirty years old today. “But I’m… I don’t think I can let you out of my sight today.”

“Oh,” Evan said, hollowly. Because he didn’t want to spend time with Evan, he wanted to babysit him. “You don’t have to, like. Watch me. You shouldn’t feel obligated. I can… I’ll call Alex or Mattie, I’ll… This isn’t your job. I’m sorry.”

Connor extended his hand to help Evan up off of the floor, and Evan pulled himself up gingerly. It was weird, he realized. Connor looked a lot better than he had the last time Evan saw him. 

And Evan looked a lot worse. 

He was almost as thin as Connor now, and he… He’d never been skinny like that. He’d always been kind of broad, solid, definitively medium.

Evan hadn’t even really noticed how bad he looked until he was standing next to Connor. 

Connor looped his arm around Evan’s shoulders, a gesture that brought him back almost instantly to the first year they were friends. 

“I care about you,” Connor said simply. “And we always watch movies on my birthday.”

Evan’s eyes drifted awkwardly back to Connor’s unmade bed. 

They usually watched movies in bed. 

“Oh uh. Maybe on the couch?”

Evan nodded. 

“You want something to eat?” Connor asked, having deposited Evan on the sofa. He shivered a little outside of the warmth of Connor’s bedroom. Edgar meowed and jumped up into Evan’s lap. 

“You don’t need to feed me…”

Connor sighed. “When’s the last time you ate something?”

Evan had to think back. It had been… a while. A bagel, he thought. A couple of days ago. 

“I thought so. Just eat something okay? Sandwich? Cereal? As long as I don’t need to turn on the stove or oven…”

Evan shrugged. “I don’t… I’m not. Just. I -” He shook his head. “I don’t know, I…”

Connor smiled sympathetically. “Why don’t I pick for you, yeah?”

Evan nodded, his face burning with embarrassment. Connor headed off to the kitchen and Evan looked at Edgar, feeling out of place and undeserving of this kindness. Edgar pressed his little mouth against Evan’s hands, giving him little kitty kisses. 

Connor returned a couple of minutes later with a peanut butter sandwich. He handed the plate to Evan and smiled a little. “The only lunch meat I had was ham so… Hope that works for you.”

Evan nodded gratefully. 

“So…” Connor said. “Here’s the game plan for the next few days. Hear me out, okay?” 

Evan nodded. 

“Today we’re just going to… keep things low key. Watch some movies, stay inside, generally not die. Sound okay?”

Evan nodded. 

“You’re not eating,” Connor said softly. 

Oh. Right. Evan picked up the sandwich and ripped off a small corner of the crust, made a big show of chewing and swallowing. 

Connor smiled a little. 

So Evan took a bigger bite. Connor smiled even wider.

“You’re going to stay here with me for a few days.”

Evan wanted to protest but his mouth was full of peanut butter, and he felt like maybe Connor had tricked him. 

“We need to get some stuff sorted out for you, and I don’t want you to be alone. And since Mattie and Alex have such insane schedules, but I make my own, I think it’s best that you stay here, okay?”

Evan nodded dumbly. 

“I texted Alex to let her know you’re safe,” Connor went on. “But tomorrow you have to call your mom.”

Evan swallowed painfully. He did not want to call her… but he was in no position to argue. He looked down at Edgar, still sitting on his lap, and back to Connor. “Alright.”

“And then I think… I think it might be best if we found some place for you to go for a while. So you can work on feeling better? Somewhere where you can… get the help you need.”

There was a point in Evan’s life where that would have been his genuine worst nightmare. Now he couldn’t argue. He needed some fucking help. It was an indisputable fact. If he was going to live through this, he couldn’t keep trying to manage on his own. 

“Alright.” He didn’t know how the fuck he was going to pay for that but alright. 

“Do you have leave? At your new job? On Monday, I could… I could help make some calls, to your boss or HR or…”

“I can’t go back there,” Evan said quietly. He returned the sandwich he was picking at to his plate, his appetite vanishing. He shook his head, remembering, the details hazy but making him feel dizzy and desperate and horrible. “I… I really don’t think I can go back there.”

Connor’s face looked pained, but he nodded. “Okay. Then on Monday… we’ll figure it out. You can give notice if you want or… We’ll figure it out.”

“You don’t have to help me,” Evan said, his voice soft. Quiet. “I don’t deserve it, I-”

“I want to help you,” Connor said. “I care about you. Let me help.”

Evan turned to look at him. “You’re sure?”

Connor smiled a little. “Yeah. I got you.”


	105. ONE HUNDRED AND FOUR

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> “I think he missed you."

After a moment, Connor turns on the television. He decides not to bother asking Evan what he wants to watch, knowing that at this point, it’s probably going to just upset him, the idea of having to make a decision. 

He just puts on Spider-Man. 

The one with Kirsten Dunst’s nipples. 

Heidi recommended it a year ago, when Evan was laid up with walking pneumonia, as something that might make him feel better. 

Honestly, Connor doesn’t have much hope that this will really help in the long run, but it’s something that might make Evan happy for a little while, or at least be familiar enough that it provides some level of comfort. 

They’re nearly twenty minutes into the movie when Connor realizes Evan’s looking at him with this small, soft smile. 

“You with me?” Connor asks, his voice gentle.

“Yeah,” Evan says, his voice quiet and rough. “I like this movie.”

“I remember,” says Connor simply. 

He remembers everything. 

It feels like all Connor’s done for the past six months is remember, remember every little tiny detail about Evan, about their relationship, how the words ‘I love you’ sounded when coming out of Evan’s mouth. 

He’d tried to catalogue those ‘I love you’s once, one night when he was feeling particularly self-loathing. The soft and fond ‘I love you’, said deliberately. An ‘I love you’ that was a moan or a gasp during sex, raw and unfiltered, tumbling out of his mouth like he couldn’t hold it in anymore. This time last year Connor remembers how ‘I love you’ sounded scared and desperate, like he had to say it in case it was the last time. 

It was the same way Evan said ‘I love you’ when Connor first woke up. This scared, desperate ‘I love you’, like he was afraid that Connor would disappear on him. 

Connor had hated himself a little bit for sitting there and cataloging lies. 

_ That’s not important right now, _ he tells himself sternly.  _ It doesn’t matter.  _

Connor’s broken heart is not important right now. 

What’s important is keeping Evan alive. Keeping him safe. 

About halfway through the second of the Kirsten Dunst and Tobey Macguire Spider-Man movies, there’s a knock at the door. Connor gets up and heads through the kitchen to answer it, careful to open the door only a crack, because he has no idea who it is but basically everyone he knows is pissed at Evan on his behalf and he doesn’t want to subject Evan to that shit right now. 

It’s Graham, holding a bag, giving Connor a big smile. 

“Hi,” he says warmly. “Happy Birthday. I can’t stay long because Sabrina’s in the car, I just wanted to drop this off.” His grin widens. “Bacon maple waffle cupcake.”

“That’s really nice, thanks,” says Connor, heading out into the stairwell and closing the door behind him quietly. 

Graham looks at him, a little confused. “Why are we in the stairwell?” he asks. 

“I’m going downstairs for something,” Connor lies. 

“In your pajamas?” Graham asks. 

Fuck. 

Connor sighs. Rubs his face. “If I say something, can you promise not to freak out?”

Graham raises an eyebrow. “I can promise to try?”

“I guess that’s good enough,” Connor mutters. He sighs. “Okay. So… Evan’s here. In my living room. And I know you’re not his biggest fan, so… I didn’t want him to have to deal with that.”

Graham’s eyes widen. He just stands there for a long moment. 

“Okay,” he says finally, and he sounds… pissed. “Why is Evan here?”

“Because he needs to be,” Connor says simply. “He needs help. And I’m going to help him.”

Graham shifts his jaw a little. Bites his lip. It looks like he is genuinely trying not to start yelling, and Connor appreciates it. 

“Okay,” he says after a moment. “I… does he  _ want _ help?”

Connor actually pauses at that. “I think he wants to want it,” he says cautiously. “And that’s a start.”

Graham bites his lip again. Takes a few deep breaths. 

When he speaks up, his voice is deliberately even. “Okay. I just… I don’t like how he’s acted. I know there’s something not right, I’ve known that for months, and I’m… sympathetic toward that, but… he’s an asshole. He’s been an asshole to you and Sabrina and that isn’t okay.” 

“I get it,” Connor says quietly. 

“If there’s anything you need,” Graham says, his voice quiet as well, “then let me know. I… I think it would be good for Sabrina to know that he’s safe. That you’re keeping him safe.”

“I don’t think her visiting is a good idea,” Connor says immediately.

“No,” Graham agrees. “Not now.” He looks Connor directly in the eye. “You know you can’t do this by yourself, don’t you? That he needs professional help?”

“He does,” Connor agrees, his voice curt, almost sharp. “I’ve got this.” 

Graham nods. “Right. Okay.” He tries to smile, but it doesn’t quite work, and his face crumbles. All of a sudden, he looks very, very sad and very, very scared. “It’s your fucking birthday, Connor. This isn’t fair.”

“It’s not,” Connor has to agree, and his own voice softens. “I…” He blinks a few times, then wipes his face, trying not to cry. “Thank you for the cupcake. I’ll… stick a candle in it later on, I don’t fucking know.”

Graham does actually smile at that. “Sure. Sounds good.” 

He claps Connor on the shoulder a little awkwardly and Connor decides fuck it, toxic masculinity isn’t winning on his watch, so takes the opportunity to pull Graham into a hug. 

Graham seems a little surprised at first, but quickly hugs Connor back, this tight, firm grip, and it nearly makes Connor lose it, right then and there, because he’s scared and he’s heartbroken and he’s tired and he really, really fucking needs a hug. 

When Graham pulls away, his eyes are a little glassy. “Take care, yeah? And if you need anything…”

“Thank you,” Connor says quietly, then smiles and heads back inside his apartment. He puts the cupcake in the kitchen, then heads back to the living room. 

Evan looks at him and blinks, like he didn’t even notice him go. “Everything okay?” he asks, and Connor nods. 

Sits down on the couch next to Evan. 

Wipes his face. 

It takes him a moment to realize that Evan’s watching him. He turns to look at him. Evan’s frowning. 

“There was someone at the door,” he says, like he’s trying to make sense of it. 

“There was,” Connor says with a nod. “Don’t worry about it.”

“Who was it?”

“A friend,” Connor says simply. “Just dropping something off.” He gestures to the screen. “Catch me up on what I missed?”

Connor orders Chinese food for dinner. He makes sure to pick all of Evan’s favorites, orders from the place Evan always liked the best. Connor thinks their noodles are subpar but Evan really likes their fried rice, so that’s what they’re eating tonight. He orders a couple of extra dishes so they have options they can reheat things in the microwave tomorrow. 

Tomorrow’s going to be hard, Connor knows. 

Tomorrow’s when they have to start making some decisions.

He’s got a list of places Evan might be able to go. Some back home, some here in New York. He’s emailed some of the more promising ones for information about insurance and costs and things like that. Sent an email to Praveed asking for his professional recommendation, briefly explaining the situation. 

Praveed had emailed back almost instantly, telling Connor that he’ll put together a list of recommendations and gently suggesting that Connor book an appointment to see him in the coming week. 

Which Connor will do, because he knows he has to, he just…

Has to make sure Evan’s safe first. 

When Evan talks to Heidi tomorrow, Connor’s sure that she’ll want to come to the city immediately. Connor’s keeping an eye on flights. Debated just booking her one straight away. 

It’s not his place though. He can’t just book his ex-boyfriend’s mom a flight to New York. 

Alex might want them to stay at Evan’s apartment. Alex and Heidi are close, Connor knows that. But the roof…

That fucking roof. 

Connor needs to remember to change the sheets in the spare room. Hopefully he can convince Heidi that they should keep staying here. 

Edgar’s glued himself to Evan’s side, sitting on his lap and purring. Evan reaches out to pet Edgar every now and then, this repetitive motion that Connor desperately hopes is grounding, calming. 

Evan spends a lot of time just… staring into space. 

Disassociation, Connor recognizes. 

Like Otis. 

Except with Otis, it’s a little different because of the whole other universes thing. 

Connor should explain that to Evan. Should tell him what he knows about Otis, explain the different realities, but he doesn’t know if he can handle it right now. 

He keeps thinking about the dream Evan mentioned. 

The dream about Connor’s birthday. 

“ _ In the dream it was your birthday. You asked me to move in with you. I said yes. And we were scared because it was your birthday but we were… we were really happy, Connor. We were happy. And it hurt to see.” _

Connor remembers that dream. 

That exact dream. He remembers it so fucking vividly, he…

_ Maybe it’s another reality,  _ he thinks to himself.  _ Where things went the way they were supposed to.  _

Part of him hopes it is. 

They deserve to be happy  _ somewhere.  _

Connor heads downstairs to get their Chinese food just as Maureen’s heading up the stairs with the bag. She smiles at him, gives him a big hug and wishes him happy birthday, and Connor thanks her and hurries back inside as quickly as he can, not wanting to leave Evan alone for too long. Maureen seems taken aback and frowns, looking like she desperately wants to ask what’s wrong, but Connor doesn’t think he has the energy to explain this again today.

Connor’s going to have to talk to his staff on Monday. 

Better add that to the list. 

Evan doesn’t eat much, Connor notices. When he catches Connor watching him, he turns pink and forces himself to eat more, and Connor doesn’t love that he clearly has to force himself but is just glad he’s eating something. 

If eating’s hard, maybe Connor should focus on simpler things for the next little while. Soups. Evan likes chicken soup. He can make chicken soup. 

He can do this. These little things, he can do them. 

Maybe little by little, it’ll all be okay. 

Evan looks exhausted by the time they finish eating and Connor’s exhausted, too. When it looks like Evan’s about to drop off, right there at the kitchen table, Connor puts his hand on his shoulder and squeezes it gently. 

“Hey,” he says, keeping his voice soft. “Let’s get an early night, yeah?”

Evan nods. “Okay.”

He lets Connor guide him to the bathroom. They brush their teeth together, side by side, Connor having given Evan one of the spare toothbrushes he keeps in the bathroom cupboard. He’s started buying them in bulk to make sure he has fresh toothbrushes in his bathroom at all times over the past six months or so, considering how many people seem to end up crashing in his apartment. 

Friends who come over to keep him company and are too tired to leave. His sister who’s too scared to leave him alone. A homeless guitar player with nowhere else to go. 

His suicidal ex-boyfriend.

This apartment has seen it all. 

Once they’ve both brushed their teeth, Connor gives Evan some privacy so he can pee. Thinks about changing, then realizes he’s already in his pajamas. 

He takes a moment to some dishes, keeping an eye out for Evan.

After what feels like forever, the door to the bathroom opens. Edgar meows, then runs to Evan and rubs his face on his ankles, purring happily. 

“I think he missed you,” Connor blurts out, and immediately regrets. Evan goes pale and Connor winces. “Sorry. I… just, sorry.”

Evan stands there for a moment, then reaches down and pets Edgar gently. “He’s a good cat,” he says, his voice so, so quiet. 

Connor is struck by the feeling that he might cry, for what’s probably the millionth time that day. 

Instead, he smiles at Evan and takes his arm. “Come on. Let’s get some sleep, yeah?”

Evan nods. Lets Connor guide him into his bedroom. Gets into bed on his side of the bed, the side of the bed that’s always been his, ever since Connor first bought this fucking bed. 

Connor gets into bed, takes his meds and turns out the light. 

Edgar curls up between the two of them, like he used to do all the time. 

Evan reaches out his hand and holds Connor’s, like he used to do all the time. 

Connor focuses his attention on Evan’s hand, rubbing circles on his knuckles in what he hopes is a comforting manner. Slow, careful circles. 

Evan’s eyes are closed. He looks so tired. 

Fuck, he’s thin. 

Connor hates it he hates it he hates it. 

He keeps his eyes open and watches as Evan falls asleep. 

Listens to him snoring gently. 

It’s like a switch flicks the minute he knows Evan’s asleep, like a dam breaking, and the sadness and pain and utter heartbreak catches up with him and he chokes back a sob, focuses everything he has on making sure that he doesn’t cry too loudly, that he doesn’t wake Evan up. 

But he lets himself cry, because there’s no way he can hold it back anymore. 

Because Evan’s asleep and he doesn’t need to see this, doesn’t need to see how utterly devastated Connor is, how heartbroken and sad and guilty and scared he is. 

He cries until he can’t anymore, until his pillow is soaked through, until his head hurts and his eyes itch and he’s all out of tears. 

Only then does he fall asleep. 

Still holding Evan’s hand. 


	106. ONE HUNDRED AND FIVE

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> “I’m not trying to be an asshole. I’m just really fucking scared right now.”

Connor ordered Chinese for dinner. Not from his favorite place, but from the place that had the fried rice that Evan always liked best and he wanted to just tell Connor how much he appreciated that, how much it meant that Connor remembered and cared at all, just how overwhelmed he was at this totally unearned kindness, but his mouth wouldn’t move, wouldn’t form the words. So instead Evan did his best to eat. 

He could barely stomach the sandwich from earlier and this was… hard. He felt lost, like he was one of the hundreds of grains of rice in his takeout box, like he was split into a thousand snowflakes dusting everything, like he wasn’t tangible or real. Like he wasn’t present. 

That had been happening for a long time, longer than he wanted to admit. Zoning out during court, spacing out during conversations. He had gone to Schul with Mr. Abrahamson a few weeks back because the old man started to make some concerned, maybe-Evan-should-call-his-mother noises so Evan had gone with him on a Friday evening to try to avoid suspicion and he spent the entire service only just barely there, his mouth moving a fraction of a second behind on the songs he knew, his eyes staring blankly up at the rabbi. 

She was young. Apparently single. Mr. Abrahamson had said something about it and it took Evan half a minute to process that he was like… suggesting that he set them up. “She’s a nice girl.”

“Oh,” Evan had said, embarrassed. “I’m sure she is, but I… I’m really busy with work right now?”

A piss poor excuse but Evan just didn’t feel like he would ever be able to date someone again. Not after Connor, not after everything he had felt for Connor. 

Evan noticed after a bit that Connor was looking at him. Watching him play with his food listlessly, which was so unbearably embarrassing that Evan felt his face heat up and he forced a mouthful of food on himself. Methodically chewed it. Swallowed. 

It was like his jaw was too tired for chewing. 

Connor had only given him chopsticks and Evan realized it was probably because Connor didn’t trust him with a fork right now. 

Which was fair. If he had a fork, Evan would almost certainly try to find a way to weaponize it. 

He was supposed to try again today but Connor was watching him closely, carefully, even going so far as to stand outside of the bathroom earlier when Evan got up to pee. He knew he had brought this on himself but… still. 

It felt strange to be watched like this. To be protected from himself this way. 

Evan had a dull headache forming and he knew it was nicotine withdrawal but he didn’t dare to ask Connor if he could step outside and smoke because it was the day they died and died. 

And Connor had seen so. 

Connor probably wouldn’t let him near a lighter right now anyway. 

Brought this on himself. 

Connor watched and Evan made himself eat and his jaw creaked and ached and his stomach felt sort of sick and he probably wasn’t real. He probably wasn’t so. 

He tried to eat because Connor had ordered Chinese from Evan’s favorite place, not his own, and that was so far beyond what he deserved so he tried to make himself eat but he was so tired. He was so tired it took everything out of him to tackle a meager amount of rice, it took everything in him to keep his eyes open at the table. Evan felt so drained. Maybe if he just… closed his eyes for a second, maybe if he just…

Connor’s hand touched Evan’s shoulder and he gave it a gentle squeeze. “Hey,” Connor said, his voice low and quiet, like how you’d talk to someone who had just woken up. “Let’s get an early night, yeah?”

Evan was so grateful he could almost cry. Almost. He still wasn’t sure if he could cry since he might not be real. “Okay.”

Connor practically steered Evan into the bathroom, like he was a little kid who wouldn’t go where he was told without a physical push. He went and found Evan a toothbrush in the cupboard, handing it to him still in the packaging. Evan had stared at it for a long moment, his fingers curling around the plastic. Connor had pulled it out of a bulk box of toothbrushes. Blue.

Evan had thrown out his old toothbrush in this bathroom six months ago. 

Now he was getting another one. 

It felt like too much. 

This toothbrush was blue. 

It probably cost less than a dollar. It was one of many, from what Evan saw of the cupboard, like Connor kept a stockpile of spare toothbrushes here now. Evan’s stomach flipped suddenly at the idea that maybe it was because Connor had a lot of people spending the night, people who he’d sleep with who would at least have the decency to cuddle and sleepover before fucking off, people he liked or loved even. Fuck. Maybe he had a boyfriend now, Evan thought, or several boyfriends. Or a roster of fuckbuddies. Or he just had a lot of one night stands because he was young and beautiful and could do that if he wanted but Evan hadn’t thought Evan hadn’t imagined Evan hadn’t considered that until he was staring down the barrel of a toothbrush multipack, until he was standing in this bathroom, that Connor’s life had not stopped without Evan. Connor had carried on, lived, possibly loved and fucked other people. Connor hadn’t been sitting around waiting for Evan to come back he had been buying toothbrushes in bulk. 

Connor looked at Evan after a few seconds.

Evan realized he was just staring at the toothbrush. 

He pushed the cardboard flap of the toothbrush container open and then tossed the packaging into the trash. Evan watched Connor put toothpaste on his own toothbrush, then he handed the tube to Evan. Evan applied a small amount of toothpaste, added a little water to his brush, and began to clean his teeth.

They used to do this. Brush their teeth side by side, in the mirror. They’d even done it a lot when Connor first got out of the hospital. Sometimes they’d be real dorks and bare their teeth at each other in the mirror, pull faces with toothpaste foam frothing out of their mouths, laugh at each other’s most feral grins. 

Then spit, rinse, and go to bed. 

Evan really cared about dental hygiene. “You know, you shouldn’t rinse your mouth with water when you finish brushing,” He said to Connor once, forever ago, ages and ages ago when they were happy and nobody was dying. 

“What?” Connor said back, his eyes wide. 

“Yeah, it just rinses all of the fluoride away if you do that.”

Connor frowned at Evan. “But you rinse your mouth.”

“No, I just wipe my mouth.”

“Liar.”

“Hey now, which one of us is overly committed to oral care?”

“Did you say oral?” Connor had returned with a big stupid grin. 

Evan wasn’t in that movie anymore though. 

This was something sadder, more washed out, with a flickering vanity light and an ex-boyfriend who had a need for a hundred brand new toothbrushes who was stubbornly keeping Evan alive. 

They brushed their teeth, side by side. Nobody made any funny faces in the mirror. They took turns spitting and rinsing off their brushes. 

Connor gave Evan a soft smile. He was just giving those away it seemed. “I’m going to go and wash a few dishes,” He said. “So you can pee and wash your face and… whatever.”

“Okay,” Evan said. 

It was his favorite word today. 

Connor left Evan in the bathroom, and Evan felt unsure of what he was even meant to be doing. He took a breath. Let it out. 

Peed. 

Washed his hands. Then his face. 

Then just… 

Stared at himself in the mirror. 

Evan didn’t recognize this person looking back at him. This hollow cheeked, dead eyed man with an expensive haircut hanging over his forehead in greasy strands, bony and frail looking. 

That’s how he looked. 

Frail. 

Fragile. 

Breakable. 

Someone falling apart. 

He was falling apart. 

Fuck. 

He was falling apart and he was doing it in front of Connor and this was all real it was real he knew it was real he was real this was real and… 

Fuck. 

Fuck. 

Evan took a shuddering breath. 

Wiped his eyes of the sleeve of his hoodie. 

He pushed one of the sleeves up. His arms were itching, they felt strange, almost like they were screaming for attention for pain for proof of existence. 

He found the newest burn, latest blister and pressed his finger to it until it hurt, until his eyes watered and the throbbing was constant.

This was real. This was real. 

He’d tried to kill himself and Connor stopped him. Again. 

He’d slept with his boss last night. 

He’d… 

He had tanked his entire life and it was really happening. 

He had written Connor a suicide note and set it to be delivered tomorrow.

He pulled his sleeve down and left the bathroom.

Edgar greeted him happily, rubbing against Evan’s ankles and purring loudly. Evan realized he had really missed this cat. He’d really missed him. 

“I think he missed you,” Connor said suddenly, startling Evan. 

Fuck. 

“Sorry. I… just, sorry.”

Like Connor should be the one apologizing. Like he was the reason Evan hadn’t seen this cat in six months. Like any of this was his fault at all. It was all Evan. 

All of it was on Evan. 

It was real, it was happening, and it was his fault. 

“He’s a good cat,” Evan finally offered quietly, petting Edgar gingerly, like he was scared he might hurt him. Because he might hurt him. He hurt everyone, he broke things. He could hurt this tiny cat.

Connor gave Evan this sad smile and took his arm. “Come on. Let’s get some sleep, yeah?”

Evan nodded. 

They headed into Connor’s room. 

Because Connor wasn’t letting Evan out of his sight. Not because he wanted Evan, not because he… 

Shit. 

His phone. 

Evan needed his phone. He needed to delete an email. “My phone?” he asked quietly. 

“Oh,” Connor said. “It’s in your bag, I think?”

Evan found it. 

Pulled up his email. 

Found the one he was looking for and deleted it before it could do more damage. 

He had three emails from Richard. 

Thirty seven missed calls from his mom. Over a hundred texts from her and Alex. 

He couldn’t… he couldn’t.

Evan felt sick. 

“Everything okay?” 

“Yeah,” Evan said. He climbed into bed, because that’s where Connor wanted him, climbed in on his side and Connor did the same. 

Connor took his meds. 

Shut off the light. 

Edgar jumped up and settled between then, a tiny purring croissant shape in the space between their bodies. 

This was real. 

And Connor was really here. 

So Evan found himself reaching out his hand. Feeling Connor take it, feeling Connor’s fingers tracing slow circles over his knuckles. 

Feeling Connor watching him, but being too tired to be self-conscious. 

He shut his eyes and let Connor tether him here to this, which was real, and fell asleep. 

* * *

Connor’s phone is ringing. 

It is way too fucking early for his phone to be ringing. 

He’s so fucking tired. His eyes hurt, he can barely open them, they’re all swollen and gross from crying and he has a serious headache and…

He fumbles around on his bedside table and after a few tries, finally grabs his phone and answers it. 

“Hello?”

“What the fuck do you mean he’s safe?”

Connor rubs his face. Tries to will himself awake. 

Looks at Evan, who’s still snoring on his side of the bed. 

Feels his heart clench uncomfortably for the millionth time. 

“Hey Alex,” he says quietly, dragging himself out of bed and into the kitchen, making sure to stay as quiet as he can, to not wake Evan up. “Evan’s, uh, he’s not doing great?”

There’s a pause from the other end of the line. A choked out laugh. “No shit,” says Alex, sounding young and scared. “What happened?”

“He tried to jump off the roof of your apartment building,” Connor says, without preamble. He’s too tired to soften this, to be kind about this, to make this hurt less, and he kind of hates himself for it. “I talked him down. Brought him back to my place. I’ve… he’s here and he’s safe and I’ve removed everything from the apartment he could hurt himself with and I haven’t taken my eyes off him, I swear, I am keeping him safe. I am going to keep him safe.”

“Fuck,” Alex says, sounding even more terrified. “Fuck fuck fuck how did we not know it was that bad holy shit Connor what the fuck. He called you?”

“No,” Connor admits, sighing. “I just… I had a feeling? I had a feeling something was wrong, I can’t explain it, I just… I knew, so I waited for him on the roof. And he showed up. And I got him down. I got him back to my apartment. He’s… he’s going to stay here while we sort things out for him, okay? I make my own schedule, I can make sure he’s not alone.”

“Connor,” says Alex, her voice slow and scared. “You… holy shit. Fuck. Fuck.” She lets out this horrible, choked sob. “Heidi needs to know. She needs to be here, I need to call her-”

“I told Evan he needed to call her himself,” Connor interrupts. “He should have that chance. I’ll get him to call her when he wakes up, okay?”

“Why didn’t you call her yesterday?” Alex demands. “Why didn’t you make him call her yesterday? He’s been at your place for over 24 hours, you should have… taken him to the hospital, you should have called me instead of texted, you should have called his mom, you…”

“It was my birthday yesterday,” says Connor, his voice weak. “I… I knew I could keep him safe, so I… we watched Spider-Man. I… I knew he’d feel bad enough that it was my birthday, so I just… decided that it’d be today. Today that we decide some things. Make a plan to keep him safe.”

“Heidi’s been trying to get hold of me since Friday night,” Alex says, sounding pissed. “He left her a message and it scared her and he’s not answering her calls.”

Connor feels cold. “I… I didn’t know that, I’m sorry.”

“You need to call his mom,” Alex says again. “You’re not his…”

Alex trails off, and there’s this awful silence. 

“I know I’m not his boyfriend,” Connor says, trying not to cry. “I know I’m not… not anything, I know that. I just want to help. I’ll make him call Heidi and we’ll… we’ll figure this out.”

“I’m not trying to be an asshole,” Alex says with this weary sigh. “I’m just really fucking scared right now.”

“Yeah,” Connor says with a nod. “Me too.”

“Can I come over later?” Alex asks, something desperate in her voice. “Check him over medically?”

Connor feels his shoulders tense, almost painfully. “That’s probably a good idea,” he concedes. “Just… have you seen him recently?”

“No,” Alex admits, and Connor can hear how guilty she sounds. “We’ve… he works later, we work stupid hours, we… I don’t think I’ve seen him properly since Thanksgiving.”

“Okay,” says Connor, trying to be gentle. “Just… I’m just warning you, okay? He doesn’t… he doesn’t look great. He’s not well at all.”

“I’m a doctor,” Alex says, a little stubbornly. “I can handle it.”

“You care about him,” Connor counters, his voice soft. “It’s hard to see someone you care about suffer. Believe me, I know.”

Alex is quiet for a moment. “I know you do,” she says finally. 

Connor ends the call with a promise to contact Alex as soon as Evan’s spoken to Heidi and heads back into the bedroom, where Edgar is batting at Evan’s nose with his paw. 

“Dude,” Connor says to his cat, frowning. “That’s not nice, come on.”

“Mrow,” says Edgar Allan Paw, utterly remorseless. 

Evan stirs. Moves a little. 

Sits up and looks at Connor, blinking a few times. 

“Is this real?” he asks, his voice so small.

Connor swallows hard. “Yeah,” he manages to say. “It’s real.” He takes a seat on his side of the bed then takes Evan’s hand, squeezing it gently. “You need to call your mom.”

Evan’s eyes widen. Well up with tears almost immediately. 

He shakes his head. “I can’t.”

“You can,” Connor insists, his voice soft but firm. “You have to. I’m right here, okay? I’ll be with you the whole time.”

Evan shakes his head. “I can’t-”

“You  _ can,” _ Connor interrupts, squeezing Evan’s hand tighter. “You can do this, Evan. Okay?”

Evan closes his eyes for a long moment. Finally, he nods. 

Opens his eyes. Reaches for his phone on the bedside table on his side of the bed. 

Holds it and stares at it for a long moment. 

Connor’s still holding his other hand. 

“You still with me?” Connor asks after a while. 

Evan closes his eyes again and tears spill down his face. “She’ll hate me.”

“She won’t,” Connor assures him. “She loves you. She loves you so fucking much, Evan, and she’ll want to be here to help you, okay? To help keep you safe and get you feeling better. You have to give her that chance.”

Evan opens his eyes and looks at Connor. His eyes are red-rimmed and dull and so, so fucking sad and Connor hates it, he hates it so much, and all he wants to do is kiss him, lean in and kiss him on the cheek, wipe away his tears and make it better, make it all better somehow.

But he can’t. 

So he doesn’t. 

Evan looks at his phone. Clicks on his mother’s contact. Puts the phone to his ear. 

Connor hears the call connect almost immediately. 

“Hi mama.”


	107. ONE HUNDRED AND SIX

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> "I need help, I don’t know what to do and I’m scared.”

“Hi mama.”

“Evan, oh thank god, are you alright? I’ve been calling and calling you. Are you okay?” She sounded so scared, so panicked, so freaked out. He had left her a message saying goodbye and then disappeared, he had hurt her so much and he hadn’t even told her yet. He was always hurting her, she should hate him. 

Evan looked at Connor helplessly. Connor gave him a sad but encouraging smile. This was real. It was real.

He couldn’t do this. 

“Baby?” His mom prompted. “What’s going on?”

“I’m…” He was crying again. Crying so hard he couldn’t really speak. He couldn’t talk he couldn’t say it, Evan couldn’t do it, he couldn’t. He just hiccuped and cried harder. Connor squeezed his hand tight tight tight. 

“Just talk to her,” Connor said quietly. “It’s okay. It’s okay. Just talk to her, I’m sure she just wants to hear your voice.”

“Baby, you’re scaring me,” His mom’s voice said, her voice wavering and watery and she didn’t deserve this she didn’t deserve this she deserved a much better kid, she deserved so much better than she had ever gotten from him. “I don’t know what’s going on… that message you left me? Please just tell me what’s going on. Please.”

“I-” Evan choked out. He couldn’t, he couldn’t, he couldn’t. 

“You can tell me,” His mom said to him, her voice firm but soft. “Whatever it is, you can tell me.”

“You’ll hate me,” Evan blurted, crying so hard he could hardly breathe. “Y-you’ll hate me, you’ll never forgive me, y-you… I can’t.”

“You can Evan. You can. I love you so much baby and you can tell me anything. You can tell me.”

“I was going to… I-I was,” Evan said, shaking his head hard. “I…”

“It’s okay baby,” His mom said, her voice so gentle so soft so kind. “It’s alright.”

“No it’s not,” Evan gasped. Connor let go of Evan’s hand, and wrapped an arm tight around Evan’s shoulders, a one armed hug. Evan felt himself shaking hard. “It’s not okay. I’m not…  _ I’m _ not okay.” 

“You can tell me,” She repeated. 

“I was going to... I was going to…” Evan sucked in a deep breath. “I was going to kill myself. The night before last.”

“Oh sweetheart…” She sniffed. “I am so glad you didn’t. So glad…. Where are you now? Are you safe? Are you by yourself?”

Evan wiped his face but the tears kept falling. “I am. I’m safe. I’m with… I’m with Connor.”

“You’re with Connor?” His mom said, sounding confused. 

“Yes,” Evan said. “He… I’m. He’s keeping me safe.”

“Good. That’s good. I’m glad you’re not alone.”

“I’m not.”

“Baby what… what happened?”

“Things have been… things have been really bad, mama.” Evan said, and it was painful to admit, it hurt so much, it hurt more than he could handle, more than he could bear. 

“I know,” His mom said. “I know things have been hard.”

“I just… I just wanted it to stop,” Evan said. 

“I know. I’m sorry you’re hurting baby. I’m so sorry you’ve been feeling that way.” Evan could tell she was crying, he could hear the pain in her voice, the hurt. He’d done this, he’d hurt her, he was always hurting her he was always hurting people. 

Connor gave his shoulder a squeeze. 

“Mama I… I need help,” Evan said. “I’ve been… I need help, I don’t know what to do and I’m scared.”

“Okay baby,” His mom said, and Evan could practically hear her wiping her face and getting down to business. “Okay. I’ll get on a plane. I’ll be there as soon as I can, okay? We will figure this out. Me and you, we’re going to get through this. I promise you, we will get through this.” 

“Okay…” He wiped his face again, “I’m so sorry about this. I am so sorry about all of this. About… everything. I’m so sorry.”

“It’s alright baby,” His mom said. “It’s alright.”

Evan couldn’t go on. He couldn’t. He looked at Connor helpless. “I’m so tired,” He said softly. “I’m… Can you?”

Connor nodded, seeming to understand. He took the phone from Evan, and he squeezed Evan’s shoulder once more before letting go. Evan laid back down, crying again, crying harder as Connor said, “Hi Heidi.”

* * *

“Hi Heidi.”

Connor reaches out and grabs Evan’s hand in the millisecond before Heidi replies. Evan barely seems to notice, he’s crying so hard. 

Connor’s heart hurts it hurts it hurts it hurts. 

“Connor, oh my god,” Heidi says, almost sobs. She sounds so fucking relieved. “Thank you, thank you so much, I’m so glad he’s not alone. He’s safe?”

“He’s safe,” Connor assures her quietly. “I’ll make sure he’s safe, okay?”

“Thank you. Just… thank you.” Heidi lets out this shaky breath. “I’m looking at flights now.”

“There’s one at midday on Southwest,” Connor offers. He lets go of Evan’s hand then reaches for his own phone to check his notes. “That looks like the earliest. I can… I can pay? If it would help.”

“That’s very kind, but I’ve got this,” Heidi says immediately, and Connor feels a little stupid for a moment, because of course his ex-boyfriend’s mom isn’t going to let him pay for a flight, why the fuck would he even offer. “You… did he call you for help? I don’t… I don’t understand.”

“He didn’t,” Connor says quietly, putting his phone down and reaching out to squeeze Evan’s shoulder, rub it gently, because he’s sobbing, he’s sobbing so fucking much and it hurts Connor’s heart to see. “I just… I had a feeling, so I…”

Heidi takes in a sharp breath. “Fuck,” she whispers. 

“What matters is that he’s safe,” Connor insists quietly. Evan’s still sobbing, shaking, and he’s quiet, it’s quiet and it’s painful and Connor wishes he could take it away. “I swear I will keep him safe, Heidi.”

“I know you will,” Heidi says immediately. “I trust you. You…”

Connor just sits there and rubs Evan’s shoulder, listening to Evan’s mom crying on the other end of the phone. 

It’s excruciating. 

It hurts so, so fucking much.

“I’ve booked the midday flight,” says Heidi after a moment. “I’ll head straight from the airport to your apartment and we… we can figure out what happens next.” She’s quiet for a moment. “Do I need to book a hotel?”

“I have a spare room,” Connor says. 

“Are you… are you alright with me staying?” Heidi says, her voice sad but cautious. “Are you alright with both of us staying? You’ve done so much, I don’t want to impose.”

“I’d feel better if I could see that he’s safe,” Connor says immediately. “You don’t… you don’t have to do this alone.”

Heidi’s crying again. 

Connor hates this. 

“I’ll keep in touch,” Heidi says. “I need to go pack, I need to… can I talk to Evan again? Is he…”

Connor looks at Evan to see that his eyes are closed, his shaking has subsided. 

He’s asleep, he realizes. 

“He fell asleep,” Connor says quietly. “He’s… he hasn’t been sleeping much, so I don’t want to wake him.”

“No, that makes sense,” Heidi says, equally quietly. “Keep in touch, okay? Just… if anything changes, if you need anything, if anything happens…”

“I will,” Connor says immediately. “I’m… I didn’t know he’d left you a message,” he says weakly. “I didn’t know, I’m so fucking sorry, if I’d known I would have made sure we were in touch sooner-”

“All I care about is that he’s safe,” Heidi interrupts. “That’s all I care about.”

When the call is over, Connor finds himself just… watching Evan sleep. 

For longer than he should. 

He’s struck by the urge to cry, yet again, and has to tell himself very firmly that he’s not going to do that, he’s not going to fucking fall apart, because he needs to be strong. 

He can do this. 

He can do this. 

_ Okay,  _ he thinks to himself.  _ What next? _

Heidi’s coming here, which is good. Alex wants to see Evan, too, and Connor thinks it’s probably a good idea that she check him out, see how he’s doing medically, because…

Fuck. 

Fuck, that’s going to be…

Fuck. 

It’s Sunday, so that means that Jax is rostered on, Connor realizes with a sinking feeling in his stomach. Jax is definitely going to notice if all of a sudden Evan’s mom and roommate show up, and they’re going to have questions. 

Connor loves Jax to pieces. They’re one of his closest friends, one of the most important people in his life. They’ve been loyal and steady and completely amazing these past few months, going above and beyond to make sure Connor’s doing okay. 

Out of all of his employees, Jax is the one who’s the most pissed off at Evan. 

And yeah, okay, Connor gets it. People feel ways about what happened, he gets it. As much as Connor tries to smooth things over, tries to soften things, tries to explain that it’s not quite that fucking straightforward, the people who are close to him see it pretty black and white. 

Evan left Connor barely a month after he woke up from a coma. 

Connor risked his health trying to talk to him, trying to get him back. 

Connor ended up back in his hometown for a month to recover from the coma and the heartbreak. 

It’s… not a great story. It doesn’t look good for Evan. If someone else were telling Connor about this happening to them, he’d be pissed on their behalf. Really fucking pissed. 

Connor looks at Evan, asleep in his bed. 

A part of him wants to be mad at him. Has wanted to be mad at him ever since he left. 

But he can’t. 

He just… can’t. 

It might have been easier if he could. 

Connor takes a moment to get changed, keeping an eye on Evan. Edgar’s curled up next to his head, watching over him carefully, and Connor trusts Edgar to let Connor know if anything happens, if Evan’s not safe, so…

When quarter to ten rolls around, Connor heads downstairs to talk to Jax. 

Jax is setting up for the day and grins widely when they see Connor, this genuine smile that shows off the gap between their front teeth they’re always a little self-conscious about. “Hey boss,” they say cheerfully. “How was the birthday?”

“Do you have a moment?” Connor asks, not answering the question, because how the fuck does he answer that. 

Jax’s smile drops immediately. They look a little spooked. “Is everything okay?”

Connor bites his lip. He doesn’t really know how to answer that either. 

“It’s going to be,” he says finally. “I… look, you’re not going to like this.”

Jax looks even more concerned. “What’s going on?”

“Evan’s in my apartment,” Connor says, trying to keep his voice even. “He tried to kill himself on Friday night. He’s in really bad shape and I’m looking after him. His mom is on her way, she’ll be coming here. So will Alex, his roommate. You might remember her? She’s-”

“A doctor,” Jax interrupts, their voice hard. “I remember. She was your doctor. When you were in a coma last summer.” Their eyes flash with anger. “And Evan left you to deal with that on your own. Just walked out on you when you’d barely been out of hospital for a month.”

“He’s sick,” Connor says.

“So were you,” Jax shoots back. “You nearly died.”

“So did he,” Connor almost whispers. “Jax, he needs help.”

Jax looks like they’re about to cry. They also look really pissed about it. 

“His mom and his roommate are coming,” Jax says, their cheeks getting redder. “Are they coming to take him back to his apartment?”

Connor shakes his head. “He’s staying here.”

“Why the fuck would you do that?” Jax demands, and their eyes are glassy and their fists are clenched and their face is getting blotchy and they’re practically vibrating with anger. “Why the fuck would you put yourself through that, Connor? I know you want to help people and I think that’s awesome, it’s really great of you, but this is  _ insane. _ Evan left you, he broke your heart, he just threw you away and now you’re letting him stay with you?”

Connor takes in a deep breath. “I can’t just do nothing,” he says after a moment. 

Jax frowns. 

Takes a couple of breaths. 

Looks like they really want to fucking punch someone. 

“This isn’t good for you,” they say finally. “This isn’t… it’s not good for you, he  _ hurt _ you, you were a fucking  _ mess _ after he left, Connor. You… you were sick, you were so sick and he just… this isn’t good for you and it’s not your responsibility!”

“You don’t have to like it,” says Connor firmly. “I don’t… I don’t expect you to like it. But this is what’s happening. He is staying here until further notice. When Heidi arrives this afternoon, we’ll figure out what the next step is, but for now I need to keep him safe. He’ll be safe here.”

Jax blinks a few times. Their fists are still clenched. “Will you be safe?” 

“Yes,” Connor says. 

Jax shakes their head. “This is so fucked up. This whole situation is so fucked up.” They frown again. “Look, I know what it’s like to be in that space and it sucks, it really fucking sucks. But it’s not your fucking problem. None of this is your fucking problem and I’m not… I’m not fucking okay with this and you shouldn’t be, either. I can’t just ignore how much he hurt you, Connor. I can’t.”

“You don’t have to,” Connor replies quietly. “You’re entitled to feel whatever way you feel. Just… be polite. That’s all I’m asking.”

“Fine,” says Jax. They look so incredibly frustrated.

Connor doesn’t know if he blames them. 


	108. ONE HUNDRED AND SEVEN

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> “You need someone to watch out for you and I’m here. I got you. Okay?”

Connor let him go back to sleep for a while, Evan realized distantly, because the next time he opened his eyes, hours had passed. Several, if the way the light in the room had shifted was any indication. Edgar was curled up on the pillow beside Evan’s head, purring loudly. He blinked slowly at Evan a few times. 

When Connor first adopted Edgar, Evan had read up on cats because he… didn’t get them. He didn’t get cats. So he researched. Cats blinking slowly was a sign of affection. Purring was regenerative, it helped to rebuild muscles and heal injuries. 

Edgar was purring beside Evan’s head. He reached out and scratched him behind the ears. At least Edgar wasn’t holding the break up against Evan. That was probably something. 

“Hey,” Connor said from Evan’s other side. He was sitting on his side of the bed, looking at something on his laptop, frowning a little. “How are you feeling?”

“Tired,” Evan said, his voice rough to his own ears. His eyes felt sore and gritty from crying. “Is this really happening?” He asked again, because he kept asking, because he just couldn’t be sure. 

“Yeah,” Connor said, his voice solemn. 

Fuck. 

Embarrassment was starting to creep in around the edges. Embarrassment and shame. He was relying on his ex for help. He’d called his mother up crying. He’d tried to kill himself for the… 

Evan had lost count of how many times he had tried to kill himself, he realized. 

Again, though. Again. He’d tried to kill himself again.

“My mom?”

“On her way,” Connor said. “She’s on a noon flight. She should land in a few hours and she’ll come right here.” 

Evan normally picked her up. He hated that he wasn’t picking her up. 

“She’s coming… she’s coming here?” He repeated, suddenly unsure. 

Connor nodded. “The two of you are going to stay here while we sort this all out.”

“I’m sorry,” Evan said, sitting up. “I’m… I shouldn’t be here, I shouldn’t be disrupting your life like this, I shouldn’t -”

“Stop,” Connor said softly. “You need someone to watch out for you and I’m here. I got you. Okay?”

“I…” Evan said softly. “I don’t know what to say.” He rubbed his face, feeling like he might cry again but that his eyes had dried up. 

“You don’t have to say anything. It’s alright.” 

It was not alright, but Evan couldn’t bring himself to argue. His head hurt. He felt so drained. Part of him just wanted to… rest his head on Connor’s shoulder and cry some more, but he knew that wasn’t appropriate or fair. Evan couldn’t actually do that now. He’d made sure he would never be able to do that again. 

“It’s eleven already,” Connor said. “Do you think you could eat something?”

Evan considered this. 

His stomach hurt, he noticed, and he felt sort of queasy and off-kilter. He shook his head. “I feel sort of… sort of sick?”

“Okay,” Connor said. “What about a piece of toast? Just so you’re not going on an empty stomach?”

Evan figured he could try. 

Connor was doing so much, the least he could fucking do is try to eat some damn toast. “I can try.”

“Good,” Connor said with a smile.

Evan followed Connor into the kitchen. Sat at the table when instructed. Ate the toast put in front of him. Not all of it but nearly half. Connor smiled at him and Evan tried not to let the embarrassment sink in too much. The embarrassment that his ex was taking care of him, feeding him, watching him to make sure he didn’t hurt himself. 

“So Alex is going to come over and check you out,” Connor said casually. He was drinking a cup of coffee. He had offered it to Evan but Evan wasn’t sure he could stomach it right now. 

It took a few seconds for those words to sink in. 

Evan’s eyes dropped to his lap. Fuck. 

“Does it have to be her?” He asked quietly. 

“Unless you feel like going to a hospital?”

Evan shook his head. If he went now… 

If he went now, he’d be involuntarily committed. He wouldn’t be allowed to leave or pick where they kept him. He’d have no choices. 

Alex was the safer option but… he didn’t love it. He didn’t want her seeing this. 

Evan looked down at the half-eaten toast on his plate. He felt… disgusting. He hadn’t showered in a while, he realized. He definitely hadn’t showered since Richard…

“I’m going to be sick,” Evan said suddenly, getting up and rushing as fast as his shaky legs would allow to the bathroom, throwing up the half piece of toast and some of last night’s Chinese and he just kept throwing up because he kept thinking about how he’d fucked Richard, he’d actually fucked Richard McLaren who was human garbage who was awful, he’d done that and… he’d done that and told his mom and Connor was stuck with him and he was now crying over a toilet bowl and throwing up. 

Connor was rubbing his back, telling him it was okay as Evan finished throwing up. Evan felt shaky and sweaty and freezing and just awful, horrible, disgusting, he was disgusting. 

Connor wrapped an arm around his shoulders and they leaned back against the shower wall. Where the bathtub used to be. “You’re okay.”

“I’m such a fuck up,” Evan said in a raspy, cracking voice. “I am such a fuck up.”

“It’s alright.”

“I fucked Richard,” Evan said pitifully. “I… I don’t know what’s wrong with me I don’t know why I’d do that I…” 

Connor rubbed his shoulder and gave him another squeeze. “Not gonna judge you for that. At least he wasn’t still married when it was you, you know? What’s my excuse?”

Evan stared. Almost smiled, or laughed, or did something that didn’t make sense to him. Connor made a joke. 

And Evan laughed, almost. It was more like a hiccup than a laugh but then he tried to smile and Connor smiled back and it all suddenly felt a little bit less like the world was ending. Just a little. 

“Alright,” Connor said after a few minutes. “Maybe you should take a shower? It might help you feel a little bit better.”

Evan sighed, but then nodded. He was probably right, even though that sounded like it would take a lot of energy to manage. 

His mom was coming later. He didn’t want her to see him… this bad. 

“I think I’m gonna stay in here though?” Connor said. “If that’s okay. Just in case…”

Evan frowned. “I don’t think you can actually drown yourself in the shower.”

Connor flinched. 

“Too soon?”

He almost laughed, but then it looked like Connor might cry. “Yeah. Holy shit, yeah. Way too fucking soon.”

“Sorry.”

Connor and Evan went back into Connor’s room to grab Evan’s clothes. Connor also checked Evan’s pockets first to make sure he had nothing he could hurt himself with in them. Then he steered Evan back to the bathroom, drew the shower curtain and told Evan to toss over his dirty clothes. “I’ll wash them. I have laundry to do later anyway.”

“Okay,” Evan said. 

He shivered a lot in the shower, turning the tap up hotter and hotter to combat his chattering teeth and goosebumps. Evan washed his hair carefully, then his body, grateful to rinse away the traces of Richard still left on him. 

His eyes almost teared up at the smell of Connor’s sandalwood body wash, familiar and comforting and real. It was real. 

Connor was really looking after Evan because he really still cared. That was… a lot. 

It was a lot. 

After Evan finished showering and dressing, he traded posts with Connor. Stationed nearby so Connor was sure Evan was there and not trying to hurt himself. Edgar curled up on Evan’s lap as he sat back against the open bathroom door, his eyes aching and his head buzzing a little. Connor talked the whole time he showered to Evan, stuff about how he was making some soup later and asking Evan what his mom normally ate for breakfast so he could make sure he had it in the house. 

“We’re not really breakfast people,” Evan said, scratching Edgar under his chin. He did feel a little bit better after throwing up and showering. He had rinsed out his mouth and washed his hair so he felt more like a human and not a dirty, falling apart car made out of tin cans, hollow and inconvenient.

“Can you hand me my towel?” Connor asked, poking his head out from behind the shower curtain. Evan could see his wet hair, his long delicate neck and collarbone, his naked shoulder. 

He nodded. Gently set Edgar on the floor and handed over the towel, averting his eyes as best he could. 

“I’ll just be a minute,” Connor said, and Evan decided that meant he was dismissed. He went and sat in the living room, shivering some because of the temperature difference. He had only packed the one hoodie, Evan realized, and it desperately needed washing. He wrapped his arms around himself and shivered and waited for Connor to come back, for Connor to step out of the shower and tell Evan what he was supposed to do. 

He took one look at Evan and headed into his bedroom. He came out with a dark red hoodie that Evan used to steal all of the time because it was ridiculously soft even after being washed several times. Soft and warm and it always smelled like Connor. “Here, you look cold.”

“Thanks,” Evan said, nodding. He pulled on the hoodie, instantly feeling warmer. Though Evan couldn’t be sure if that was the hoodie or the way Connor was looking at him with these gentle, reassuring smiles. 

Alex arrived not too long before noon. 

She could barely keep a straight face when she saw him. Mattie wasn’t with her, and Evan didn’t think he knew why. If she had something else to do, if he’d pissed her off… He didn’t know. All he knew was Alex looked startled to see him. 

Suits hid things more easily. 

Camouflage.

“Hey,” Alex said. “Can I give you a hug?” 

He was not sure if he and Alex were hugging people to each other, but he consented because Alex looked so sad, so horrified, and he thought it might help. He had scared her and maybe a hug would help. 

Evan nodded. They hugged each other, brief but tight, and Alex led Evan Connor’s kitchen table and that’s when he noticed the Mary Poppins bag. 

Right. She was here to check him out. Right. 

She looked uncertainly at Connor as she started to unpack supplies. He seemed to catch her meaning, which was lost on Evan. 

“Do you want me to leave?” Connor asked. “Let you two do this in private?”

“Don’t go,” Evan said quickly, too quickly. “Please?”

Connor nodded to Evan and had a seat at the table beside him. 

Alex started small. Blood pressure. Temperature. 

She went to take his pulse and stopped at the new mark on Evans’s wrist. Her face looked so fucking sad. He hated that. He hated that he had done this to people he loved, people who cared, he hated it. He hated that they knew. He hated that they cared and now they knew, he hated that this hurt. 

Alex listened to Evan’s heart. Asked him to take a few deep breaths and listened to his lungs. “Have you been sick?” She asked him, still listening. 

“I had a cold… I dunno, a couple of weeks ago?” A lie. The doctor at the hospital said it was pneumonia but he had taken all of the drugs they prescribed, he was probably better...

Alex nodded, still listening. “Your lungs don’t sound awesome right now.”

She checked his eyes with a light. Looked in his ears and nose and throat. Checked his lymph nodes, felt his ribs since he had broken one a few months before. Connor’s eyes got big when he heard Alex say that Evan had broken a rib, and he looked like he wanted to ask questions but held himself back. 

Alex frowned when she prodded his sides, his ribcage, to see if there was any lingering pain or discomfort. 

Evan was suddenly just… aware that he was too thin. He hadn’t really noticed. A few things had felt big on him, but he had dismissed it, thought it was the new job, the new stresses, the fact that he had left Connor so his mental health wasn’t super awesome. He just… He hadn’t realized how much weight he’d lost. How thin he had become. 

Alex looked up and into his eyes as she examined Evan’s ribs, something unreadable in her eyes. Evan looked away first. 

Connor was watching, his arms crossed over his chest, appraising the situation. Quietly, he said to Alex, “Can you take a look at his arms please?”

“Connor,” Evan said, ashamed and scared. 

“She needs to check you out,” Connor said. “It’s okay. She’s a doctor.” He gave Alex a sort of hard look. “She can handle it.”

Alex looked at Evan, her eyes big and terrified. “Can you take off your hoodie for me?”

Evan felt his eyes tearing. “I’m sorry.”

“You don’t have to be sorry, you’re alright,” Alex said. “You’ll take this off and we’ll go from there, okay?” 

Evan nodded. 

He gently pulled his arms back through the sleeves of Connor’s hoodie. Pulled the hoodie off, set it to the side. It was so cold in the kitchen. He was shivering almost immediately. 

Evan pushed through. 

He held out his arms to Alex, hands curled into fists, to display what he had been doing to himself. 

Alex took a sharp breath in. She looked him in his eyes again. “I’m sorry I wasn’t around more,” she said gently. “You… I’m sorry. I should have been there. I should have checked in more.”

Evan tried to smile at her. “I just would have lied to you anyway.”

Alex frowned. “Okay,” She said, taking a closer look at his arm. “Looks like most of these have healed up on their own, which is good. If you’re concerned about scars, we can talk about some topical options…” She took in a deep breath. “We should clean and dress the newest ones though to try to avoid infection. It might…” She looked at Evan sadly. “It might hurt a bit.”

“Okay,” He said. 

Alex went into her Mary Poppins bag and started to pull out some supplies, setting them on the table as she went. Her hands were very gentle and quick as she cleaned his burns, covered them with some sort of antibiotic ointment, and covered them in bandages one by one. 


	109. ONE HUNDRED AND EIGHT

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> "I would have waited up there all night if I’d had to.”

Connor hates this. He hates it he hates it he hates it. 

He hates looking at Evan’s arms, looking at the scars and the marks. It makes him sick to his stomach, it makes him feel like he’s going to throw up, it makes him want to scream and cry and yell. 

He wants to yell at Alex, more than a little. 

_ How did you miss this? _

_ How did you not see this? _

_ You were supposed to keep him safe, you’re a doctor, he lives with fucking doctors he should have been safe. _

Connor knows it’s not that simple. He knows he knows he knows. 

He wants to look away, but he doesn’t. 

Because Evan asked him to stay. 

So he’s going to stay. 

Alex stays for a little while. Drinks a cup of coffee and has half of the bacon maple waffle cupcake Graham dropped off for Connor’s birthday. Evan barely seems to notice. He just sits at the kitchen table, staring off into space, and Connor hates it a lot. 

It’s awkwardly quiet as Connor and Alex drink their coffee and eat their cupcake halves. Which makes sense, because it’s obvious they’re both scared out of their minds and kind of pissed off at each other. 

Alex is pissed off Connor didn’t call immediately on Friday. 

Connor is pissed off that Alex didn’t see how bad things were with Evan. 

Connor thinks he wins this one, to be perfectly honest. 

When they’ve finished their coffee and cupcake, Connor asks Evan if he wants to head to the living room. “We can put on a movie?” he suggests gently. “More Spider-Man?”

Evan almost smiles. Almost. “Okay,” he says, his voice small and weak. 

He lets Connor lead him into the living room. Lets Connor cover him with one of the many blankets. Takes a bottle of water Connor’s taken out of the fridge, puts it beside him and actually drinks some of it when prompted. 

Alex sticks around for maybe half an hour, then excuses herself, motioning for Connor to follow her to talk briefly before she goes. 

Evan’s not really watching the movie, just staring into space. 

But he’s here and he’s safe. 

Still, Connor only goes as far as the doorway, making sure he can see Evan out of the corner of his eye. 

Alex looks near tears. “This is bad,” she says, her voice low. 

“Heidi’s on her way,” Connor says, trying to keep his voice even. “We’ll figure this out.”

“He needs professional help-”

“I know.”

Alex nods. Looks so fucking frustrated. “You still haven’t explained how you knew,” she says, her voice harsh. “Last I heard, you hadn’t spoken in months. Evan and Heidi had a massive fight because she visited you at Thanksgiving.”

Connor blinks. “They did?” He feels cold. Sick. “Fuck. I didn’t know that, I-”

“How did you know?” Alex asks, looking at Connor intently. “How the hell did you know he’d be on the roof? And how did you know it’d be now?”

Connor’s too tired to hold back. “Because we’ve been there before,” he says wearily. “Three years ago, almost to the day, I talked Evan off that same fucking roof. On my 27th birthday.”

Alex’s face drains of color. “Oh my god.”

“I can’t explain how I knew,” Connor continues, shaking his head. “I just had this feeling. This feeling that something wasn’t right. I knew it in my gut, somehow. So I followed my gut and I waited for him on the roof of your apartment.” 

“Holy shit,” Alex whispers. 

Connor’s so tired. So fucking tired. “I wish I’d been wrong,” he admits. “I wish he hadn’t shown up, I…” He rubs his face. “And I can’t explain how I knew. I just did. I… I would have waited up there all night if I’d had to.”

Alex looks at Connor, something fierce in her gaze. “I’m so fucking glad you were there. So fucking glad.”

“Me too.”

* * *

Evan’s mom arrived in the afternoon. She looked tired when she walked in to Connor’s apartment. Evan got up to greet her and she pulled him into the tightest hug imaginable, and it just… broke him. Whatever small amount of resolve he had just crumpled. “I’m so sorry,” He cried. “I’m so fucking sorry, mama.”

She practically scooped him into her arms and led him to the sofa. Like he was small, compact, easily carried and cared for. “I know baby,” His mom said, pressing a kiss to the side of his head. “I know. I know. It’s gonna be okay.”

They stayed like that for a long time. Evan knew his mom was crying, and he felt like his chest was being ripped apart, he hated himself for hurting her, he hated himself he hated everything about himself. He hated this. 

He was so fucking stupid and broken and horrible. He was cruel and selfish and unbelievably stupid. He was a coward and they all knew it, everyone knew how cowardly and heartless he was and he just wanted it all to stop, he just wanted to make it all go away and Connor had stopped him but it didn’t turn off the impulse, it didn’t make him suddenly want to be here, be alive. He wanted to die and everyone knew it and he knew how much that was hurting them but he couldn’t stop himself. He just wanted it all to stop. 

“I know baby, I know,” His mom said again. “I hate that you’ve been feeling this way. I hate it so damn much. But we’re going to go through it, okay? We’re going to get you through this.”

“I don’t deserve it,” Evan sobbed, his body shaking almost violently. “I’ve been horrible to you… to both of you.” 

He looked at Connor. Connor looked frightened but… steady. Sure. He looked like he had expected this and was… prepared. “It’s going to be okay,” Connor said. “The important thing is keeping you safe right now, okay? We can figure the rest out later.”

Evan sniffled a few more times. His mom handed him a tissue to clean up his face and blow his nose. He took a few deep breaths, trying to find the sort of detached calm he had felt the day before. He couldn’t. 

Once he finally collected himself a little, no longer sobbing or shaking as hard, Evan’s mom kissed him on the cheek and took his face in her hands. “Evan. We are going to figure this out,” She said, her voice firm. “We’re going to work together and figure this out. We’re going to… to get you some help, and it’ll all be okay. Okay?”

Evan nodded. 

Connor cleared his throat. “I’ve emailed a few places?” He said. “Residential places, here and back home? Places where you can just… focus on feeling better.”

“Oh,” Evan said hollowly. He nodded. “Okay.”

His mom smoothed Evan’s hair down. “I… We need to figure out a few things. What you’ll do about your job -”

“No,” Evan said, sitting up, pulling away. His heart was pounding too hard. He felt like he couldn’t breathe. “No, no, I can’t go back there. I can’t go back.”

“Did something happen?” 

“I can’t go back there, I can’t.”

His mom looked like she might protest, but Evan caught Connor shaking his head. 

“Okay,” His mom said, pushing Evan’s hair out of his face. “Okay. That’s alright. We’ll… So tonight we’ll work that out, okay? Send in your resignation?”

Evan nodded, trying to breathe normally. “Okay.” He wiped his face. “I… We can probably use the one I wrote in October? Just rewrite a little of it?”

“That’s a good idea sweetheart,” his mom said.

Evan tried to smile at her, but he knew it came across all wrinkled and weird. “I’m… I’m really tired?” He said softly, looking up at his mom and then at Connor. “Could I… would it be okay if I slept? I’m so sorry I…”

“Yeah,” Connor said to him. “You should rest more. You can… go take my room, okay?”

Evan nodded. 

“Leave the door open?” Connor said. “Just a little.”

Evan nodded again. He hugged his mom tightly. 

Thanked Connor. 

And pulled himself slowly off to Connor’s bedroom. He crawled between the sheets and shut his eyes, trying to will sleep to come. 

He could hear Connor and his mom talking in low voices. He couldn’t only catch snatches of what they were saying.

“...his job?”

“Has he ever told you about Richard?”

“I know he used to intern for him when he was still in law school, I…” 

“...slept with him… really drunk, not sure he…”

His mom crying. 

“We’ll figure it out,” Connor’s voice, steady. “We can figure this out.”

* * *

Evan goes to Connor’s room to get more sleep. Leaves the door open like Connor asked him to. 

Heidi sits down at the kitchen table and Connor joins her. 

The last time they sat at this table together was just before Thanksgiving, Connor realizes. They’d eaten sandwiches, made dumb jokes about Edgar. 

This is different. 

This is much, much worse. 

“Did he tell you what happened with his job?” Heidi asks, her voice quiet. 

Connor feels this awful pang in his chest. “Has he ever told you about Richard?” 

Heidi shakes her head. “I know he used to intern for him when he was still in law school, I don’t know much more than that.” She looks at Connor, her eyes sad and terrified. “What happened?”

Connor blinks a few times. “On Friday night when I found him, he told me he slept with him.” Heidi’s eyes go big, and Connor hates this, he hates it a lot, he doesn’t want to be telling her this but he’s going to have to. “He was really drunk, I’m not sure he…” Connor lets out a long breath. “I don’t… I don’t know the whole story but I do know that Richard McLaren is enough of a slimeball to take advantage of someone when they’re incapacitated, and Evan… he regrets it. Whatever happened, he wishes it hadn’t.”

Heidi is crying, these heartbreaking sobs. “Oh my god.”

“It’s going to be okay,” Connor assures her. “We’ll figure it out. We can figure this out.”

Heidi just cries more and Connor can’t take it. He reaches out and grabs her hand and holds it tight. 

Heidi has warm hands, just like her son. 

It takes a while, but Heidi’s tears subside. She pulls back her shoulders, wipes her face and looks at Connor. “Okay,” she says, her voice shaky. “Alex texted. She said she checked him out medically. That he’s not in any immediate physical danger but he’s lost a lot of weight and… has been hurting himself.”

“Yeah,” Connor says hollowly. “Yeah, that’s…” He shakes his head. Straightens his own shoulders. “So I’ve done some research,” he begins quietly. “On places that might be able to help him. I can email you everything I’ve got so far. I’m also waiting on some recommendations from my therapist. He’s looking into some facilities for me on Evan’s behalf.”

Heidi looks like she might cry again. “That’s… thank you, Connor.”

“In the meantime, I’m just… trying to keep things low stress,” Connor says quietly. “If you can help Evan sort out sending his resignation letter tonight, that’s a big thing we can cross off the list.” Something occurs to him. “I’m just going to go change the sheets in the spare room, okay? I meant to do it before you arrived, sorry.”

Heidi just nods. Goes to her bag and pulls out a laptop. “I’ll do some research while you’re doing that,” she says, and she sounds so tired and so sad. 

“What’s your email?” Connor asks, pulling out his phone. “Let me forward you everything I have so far.”

Evan sleeps for another hour, maybe two. In that time, Connor puts some soup on the slow cooker, changes the sheets in the spare room, cleans the kitchen and living room and checks in on Evan at least four times. Edgar’s curled up with him and every time Connor looks in, he pokes up his little head and looks at Connor, blinking slowly, like he’s trying to communicate that he’s going to keep Evan safe. 

Connor has never loved that little cat more. 


	110. ONE HUNDRED AND NINE

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> "When someone needs help, you don’t walk away.”

Connor kept checking on him, Evan knew. He hated that he worried. He hated that Evan was the reason he worried. He hated how useless he felt, how tired he was, how all he could do when he opened his eyes was close them again. 

His mom woke him up to eat dinner. He sat at the table and did his best to try to finish the soup that was put in front of him. Connor and his mom kept giving him these encouraging smiles. After he managed to eat, Connor and Evan’s mom flanked him. They sat with him on the sofa and coached him through writing his resignation letter on Connor’s laptop. His mom kept her arm around his waist, kept telling him he was going to be alright, that it was okay that he was quitting, that he needed to do whatever was best for him. 

Evan looked at Connor, feeling a bit desperate and scared. “Can you… can you proofread this?” He asked, his voice shaking and thin. 

Connor looked surprised to be asked. “Oh. Of course.”

Evan watched Connor read through it. He added a few commas, caught a typo. He looked at Evan, something tentative in his eyes. “Effective immediately?”

Evan nodded. His mom squeezed him harder. “I can’t go back. I… I can’t.”

Connor nodded. “It looks good.”

Evan sent it to the managing partners and copied his HR representative, his hands shaking the whole time. Once the message sent, he felt a sense of relief but also… emptiness.

He couldn’t turn back now. He’d quit his job. 

Fuck. 

Fuck. 

His mom and Connor put Spider-Man on again, and Evan ended up falling asleep on the sofa while they watched it, his head on Connor’s shoulder. 

Connor woke him up again as the credits rolled. “Wanna go to bed?”

Evan nodded. He blinked a few times, confused, looking for his mom. 

“She went into the spare room to call your dad,” Connor said softly. “If you want, you and her can have my room, I’ll take the spare room tonight.”

“No!” Evan said urgently. 

“Evan,” Connor said softly. 

“Please… please can you stay with me?” Evan asked, knowing he had no right to ask, knowing it was wrong to expect Connor to take care of him, but also knowing he needed to know Connor was safe, needed to be near him. 

Connor looked a bit surprised. “You’re sure?”

“Please,” Evan asked.

Connor nodded. “Okay.”

They brushed their teeth side by side. Connor gave Evan a few minutes to pee and wash his face in privacy. When Evan emerged from the bathroom, Connor and his mom were talking to each other in low voices in the kitchen. 

“What?” Evan asked, confused. 

His mom shook her head. “Your father…” She looked angry. 

“What did he do?” Evan asked her. 

She frowned harder. “Nothing,” She said. “He didn’t do anything…”

Evan looked to Connor, not understanding. 

Connor looked unsure, looking between the two of them, and then sighed. “It’s not mine to say but… Heidi. I think you should just tell him.”

She sighed. “He thinks we should have you declared mentally incompetant… So that we can make medical decisions for you.”

Evan frowned. “Oh.”

They’d likely win that case if they tried. No matter how good Evan was, he would be too tired to fight them.

He was too tired to fight anymore.

“He’s worried about you,” She said. “But he’s… a moron.” She went and hugged Evan tightly. “I’m not going to do that to you, okay? I won’t do that.”

Evan nodded. “Thank you.”

She pulled away and rested her hand against his cheek. “You should rest baby. You still look exhausted.”

Evan nodded. “Okay.” He looked over at Connor. 

Connor glanced at Evan’s mom. “Are you all set in the spare room? You don’t need anything?”  
His mom looked between the two of them, but then nodded. “Yeah, I’m all set.” She leaned and kissed Evan’s cheek. Then she kissed Connor’s cheek. “Love you both.”

“Love you,” Evan said softly. 

Connor’s cheeks were a soft pink. “Love you,” He said quietly. 

Evan and Connor climbed into Connor’s bed together. A few moments later, Edgar leapt into the bed as well, curling up between them. 

Almost without thinking, Evan reached out for Connor’s hand. Connor took it immediately, interlocking their fingers. 

Evan fell asleep quickly, but he didn’t sleep soundly. He kept waking up, his heart racing too fast, way too fast… only to realize he was wrapped soundly in Connor’s arms, his face buried in Connor’s neck. He sleepily pressed a kiss to Connor’s collarbone before he realized what he’d done. 

He should pull away. 

It wasn’t right. 

Evan kept telling himself he should pull away. 

He shouldn’t do this. Connor wasn’t his boyfriend. He shouldn’t be here, taking advantage of Connor this way, taking advantage of his huge heart and his tendency to cuddle in his sleep. 

But each time Evan pulled away, he’d end up waking up not long after, tangled up in Connor’s arms again, his face buried in his neck, breathing in his smell and holding on to him tightly. 

* * *

When Connor wakes up on Monday morning, Evan’s curled up against him, his head resting in the crook of Connor’s neck. 

He’s warm and solid and he smells the same. 

Before Connor even realizes what he’s doing, he’s pulled Evan closer and pressed a kiss to the top of his head. Evan lets out this contented sigh, a sigh Connor can feel against his collarbone. 

It takes a solid minute for Connor to remember that he’s not supposed to be doing this. 

That Evan isn’t his boyfriend anymore. 

That Evan’s only in his bed because Connor’s too afraid to let him out of his sight. 

Because Evan’s sick. 

Dangerously sick. 

And he needs Connor to be his friend right now, to take care of him. 

Not take advantage of him because his body is still operating on autopilot, ignoring the fact that things between them are not the same anymore. 

Connor carefully pulls himself out of Evan’s grip, which is easier said than done. 

Luckily for him, Evan sleeps through it. 

He gets changed quickly, then heads out to the kitchen, where Heidi’s sitting at the table, looking completely exhausted. She looks up sharply when Connor enters the room, her eyes big and worried. 

“Is he okay?” she asks immediately. 

“He’s okay,” Connor assures her. “He’s sleeping.”

Heidi doesn’t look any less worried. She just looks at the door to Connor’s bedroom, frowning. When she catches Connor watching her, she looks embarrassed. “Please don’t think I don’t trust you, Connor-”

“You’re his mom,” Connor interrupts. “You’re allowed to worry. It’s part of being a mom.”

Heidi almost smiles. “Yeah. I… I’ll just go in and sit with him for a while? If that’s okay?”

“Of course,” Connor says, gesturing to the room. “Can I make you a coffee?”

“Please,” Heidi says with a grateful smile, a smile that’s actually real. “That would be wonderful, thank you.” She looks apologetic. “I wasn’t sure if I should…”

“You can help yourself to anything you need,” Connor says quietly. “Anything at all, Heidi. I just want to help.”

Heidi looks at Connor for a long moment, her eyes sad. Eventually, she speaks up.

“I trust you completely with Evan,” she says, her voice quiet. “You know that, right? I trust you want what’s best for him.”

“I do,” Connor assures her. “I… I just want him to be okay. I’ll do whatever I can to help. 

She looks at him intently. Her next words come as a surprise to Connor, even though they shouldn’t.

“Are you and Evan back together?”

Connor blinks. “What?”

“Are you back together?” Heidi asks, looking at Connor with this careful expression. “Evan and I haven’t spoken in months. I genuinely don’t know what’s been going on with him. You’re sleeping in the same bed, you’ve dropped everything to help him… I just need to know if you’re doing this as his friend or his partner.”

“His friend,” Connor says, even though he hates it. He hates it so fucking much. “We… we hadn’t spoken in months, either.”

Heidi’s eyes fill with tears. “How did you know?” she asks, her voice ragged and broken. “How the hell did you know if he didn’t call you, Connor?”

“I don’t know,” Connor admits, running his hand through his hair. “I honestly don’t, I just had a feeling. I felt like something wasn’t right and I went to the roof of his apartment and I… I waited.”

Heidi lets out this shaky breath. Wipes her face. “You… you saved him. Again. Even though he…”

“I couldn’t not,” Connor says when it’s obvious that Heidi can’t continue. “I… Before we dated, we were friends. Best friends. Just because he doesn’t…” Connor blinks a few times. Straightens his shoulders and continues. “Just because it’s different to how it was doesn’t mean I don’t care anymore.” He shrugs. “And… and anyone would do it. Anyone would help if they knew someone was in danger, anyone would try to save them, try to stop it, I’m not… when someone needs help, you don’t walk away.”

Heidi flinches visibly. 

Connor immediately realizes he’s said the wrong thing. 

“That’s not what I meant. I’m not… I didn’t…”

“It’s okay,” Heidi says, her voice shaky. “I know you didn’t-”

“I just meant-”

“It’s fine.” Heidi tries to smile. “You’re a good man, Connor.”

Connor shrugs. Looks away. 

He doesn’t know if he is. Not really. 

He just knows that if Evan had died on that roof, he wouldn’t have survived it. 

It would have broken him. 

“I’ll make some coffee,” Connor says, and moves across the kitchen.

Connor only remembers there’s a staff meeting at nine at twenty to, which means he’s got barely any time to go get muffins and donuts because he always feeds his staff on staff meeting mornings. Evan’s still asleep, and Heidi’s there, so Connor practically runs to the bakery three blocks down. 

When he gets back to the bookstore, breathless and flustered, Maureen and Jax and Leslie are already there. Leslie’s making a pot of coffee and smiles at Connor, a little uncertain. 

Jax is stony-faced, crossing their arms and leaning against the fridge. 

“Sorry I’m late,” Connor says apologetically. It’s ten past nine. “I kind of… forgot.”

Maureen looks at Leslie, then back to Connor. “Jax told us that Evan was staying with you?” she says, her voice tentative. “That he’s… not doing so great.”

“Yeah,” Connor says, putting the donuts and muffins on the table. “He’s, uh… he’ll be here for the next little while. While we figure out what the next step is.”

“The next step is to get him out of his ex-boyfriend’s apartment,” Jax says, sounding more than a little pissed off. “The next step is not your problem.”

“He’s my friend,” Connor says firmly. 

“He left you a month after you-”

“Jax, enough.”

The four of them just… stand and sit in awkward silence for a long moment. 

Connor rubs his face. He’s so fucking tired. 

“Is he going to be okay?” Leslie asks, finally breaking the silence. “Jax said Heidi’s here? That’s… that’s good.”

“I don’t know,” Connor says honestly, his voice raw. “I don’t know if he’s going to be okay. He… it’s bad. It’s really fucking bad.”

“You don’t owe him anything,” Jax says, almost spits out. “You don’t.”

“He’s my friend,” Connor says again.

“Bullshit,” Jax retorts. “He’s your ex. He broke your heart.”

Maureen’s eyes dart between Connor and Jax before finally settling on her partner. “Babe,” she says cautiously. 

Jax turns to Maureen.“You can’t seriously be okay with this.”

“It’s not something I have to be okay with,” Maureen says, her chin jutting out defiantly. “It’s Connor’s call. His life.”

“Evan  _ hurt _ him, Evan  _ left _ him, right after he nearly…”

Jax takes in this deep, visible breath. Their eyes are glassy and their cheeks are pink. 

Connor’s hit with the sudden realization that Jax, tough and unshakeable Jax, is going to cry. 

Fuck. 

“I get that it seems weird,” Connor says, his voice quiet and calm. “And… look, I get that people have feelings about… some of the decisions Evan made. But he needs help. And I’m going to help him. I’d never forgive myself if I didn’t.”

“You don’t owe him anything,” Jax says, but there’s less venom behind the words now. They’re rubbing their face furiously, like they’re trying to hide the evidence of their emotions. “Fuck, Connor, it’s not… it’s not fair that he left you when you needed him and you’re insisting on being there when he needs you.”

“Fair has nothing to do with it,” Leslie says, her voice quiet. “Lots of things aren’t fucking fair. What’s right isn’t always what’s fair.”

The words hang in the air. 

Hover between the four of them. 

Connor straightens his shoulders. 

Looks around the room carefully. 

“You guys don’t have to like it,” he says, carefully and deliberately. “But it’s not changing. I’m not changing my mind. Evan’s going to be staying upstairs in my apartment with his mom while we figure out how we’re going to keep him safe.”

“What’s the plan?” asks Maureen cautiously. “I know there are places people can go to get help? With mental illnesses.” Something flashes across her face. “I don’t mean locking him away, I mean, like… places that actually want to help.”

Jax reaches out. Grabs Maureen’s hand and squeezes it tightly. 

“Something like that,” Connor says with a nod. “It’s… look, this isn’t something I want discussed in front of customers, okay? And while Evan’s here, I’d appreciate it if you didn’t just come into my apartment without knocking. Or let people come up to the apartment without warning. If we’re expecting someone, I’ll let you know. Is that clear?”

The three of them nod.

“Thank you,” Connor says quietly. He takes a seat at the table. Opens the box of donuts. “Alright. Staff meeting. Let’s talk business.”


	111. ONE HUNDRED AND TEN

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> "If I were in your shoes, I’d like to think I’d do the same thing.”

Evan woke with a start, utterly disoriented and panicked. 

He looked around, scared and unsure, and remembered he was in Connor’s apartment. In Connor’s bedroom, in Connor’s bed. 

Fuck fuck. 

“Evan?”

Evan blinked a few times. He looked over to see his mom, sitting at the end of the bed, her face tight with fear. 

“Mama?” Evan said softly. 

“Hi sweetheart,” She said. “How’d you sleep?”

Evan shrugged because… badly. He kept waking up, he remembered, waking up and pulling away from Connor only to wake up in his arms again. Evan thought he’d dreamed a kiss being pressed to his head. He thought he’d dreamed a million things. 

“Where’s Connor?” Evan asked his mom. 

“He has a staff meeting,” Evan’s mom told him in this gentle, reassuring voice. “He’ll be back soon.”

Evan nodded, swallowing hard. 

Fuck. 

Fuck how did he get here, how did he let things get to this point, fuck.

“Baby?” His mom said, putting a hand on his shoulder. 

Evan took a shuddering breath. “I… I am just really sorry about all of this I feel awful for… for inconveniencing you and Connor so much. I just…” he shook his head. “I fucked up so much.”

His mom squeezed his shoulder. “It’s going to be alright sweetheart.”

Evan sniffled. “I just feel so fucking stupid.” He bit his lip hard, trying not to cry again, because all he had managed to do was cry for days. “I knew it was bad. I knew I was getting bad again, I knew it and I ignored it. I didn’t want to admit that I… I needed help.”

“You’re alright,” His mom said. “You got help when you needed it…”

“But I…” Evan swallowed. “I don’t even know how Connor knew…” 

His mom squeezed his hand again. “I don’t understand it either. But I am so glad he did, Evan. I am so glad.”

His mom pulled Evan into a hug. “I’m really sorry, mama.”

“It’s alright, baby. We’ve got you.”

Evan let himself cry against his mom’s shoulder. When he managed to collect himself a little bit more, Evan let his mom lead him into the kitchen. Let her pour him a bowl of cereal and did his best to eat it. 

When he finished, his jaw aching with effort, his mom instructed Evan that he should go shower. “Put on some fresh clothes,” She said, “I think it’ll help you feel better.”

Evan agreed. He fetched clean pajamas from Connor’s room, and thought to himself that he was going to run out of clothes soon. 

“Alex said she would bring some more clothes over tomorrow,” His mom said from the doorway. Her arms were crossed over her chest. “Connor and I… we think it’s best that you don’t go back there until you’ve gotten in to see someone.”

Evan wanted to protest, but he didn’t have the strength in him to argue. He didn’t want to be a burden but he knew he couldn’t trust himself not to find a way to hurt himself if he was allowed to go back to this apartment. 

Evan’s mom made a point of checking Evan’s pockets before she allowed him to go into the bathroom on his own. She found a lighter in the pocket of a hoodie he had packed and pocketed it. It was sort of discouraging to think about how little his mother trusted him right now. But Evan saw the point. 

His mom and Connor wanted to keep him safe. 

Which Evan got, abstractly. He understood that they wanted him safe. 

He just didn’t understand  _ why _ .

He had been horrible to both of them. He hadn’t even… he hadn’t even apologized to his mom for some of the awful shit he had said to her. Evan sighed. Got in the shower and washed his hair and body. He toweled off and pulled on the pajamas he had packed, realizing with dismay that the pants were practically falling off of his hips. Evan hitched them back up, tying the drawstring as tight as they would go. Then he pulled on the hoodie and headed back into the living room. 

Evan’s mom was sitting on the sofa with a first aid kit. He flinched. “Mom…”

“Alex said you had a few burns that need looking after.” 

Evan frowned, crossing his arms over his chest. “I don’t… I don’t want you to see.” 

His mom fixed him with a hard look. “Evan. Come on.” 

He shook his head fiercely. “Mom. No.  _ Please _ .”

His mom frowned harder. “Sweetheart… do you want to get better?”

Evan’s heart plummeted in his chest. It felt hard to breathe. “I…” Evan didn’t know how to answer. He wasn’t sure if he should. It felt loaded, dangerous, to admit that… maybe he didn’t. Maybe he was too tired, too sick to keep fighting. That was too awful to tell his mother, to tell the person who brought him into the world. He couldn’t tell her he wasn’t sure. He couldn’t tell her it seemed too much. Too impossible. Evan couldn’t say he was too broken to his mother. 

But he also didn’t think he could lie. 

He wiped his face. Sucked in a breath. “I… I want to want to,” He said finally. “I don’t. But I don’t know if that’s enough?”

His mom looked really sad. “I think we can work with that,” she said finally. “Come sit honey. Let me patch you up, okay?”

Evan was too tired to argue. So he sank into a seat beside her on the sofa. Pulled off his hoodie and held his arms out for his mom to see. She cleaned and dressed the newest burns with gentle and efficient movements, then wrapped her arms around him. “I love you so much baby,” His mom said. “Okay? I need you to know that I love you.”

“I love you too,” Evan said quietly, resting his head on her shoulder. 

Maybe ten minutes later, Connor appeared in the doorway. He was carrying a half-empty box of pastries and donuts and looked drained. “Hey,” he said. 

“Hi,” Evan said softly. “How was your staff meeting?”

Connor nodded. “It was alright. How’s everything here?”

“I showered,” Evan said. “And ate cereal. So.”

Connor smiled. “Good.”

* * *

Connor’s sitting in the armchair in his living room, replying to a few emails from various treatment centers when his phone buzzes in his pocket. He pulls it out to see a message from Nate. 

**Hey, I’m downstairs. Jax said to message instead of heading up to your apartment? Everything okay?**

Connor feels heat rush to his cheeks. Fuck. 

He’d completely forgotten. 

He’d made plans with Nate. For dinner tonight. 

A belated birthday celebration. 

Fuck. 

“I just have to go sort something out downstairs,” Connor says to Heidi and Evan. “I’ll be back soon, okay?”

Heidi nods and Evan frowns, like he doesn’t want to let Connor out of his sight, but Connor can’t think about that right now. 

He has to go to deal with his maybe-boyfriend downstairs. 

While his ex-boyfriend watches Spider-Man for the millionth time with his mom in his living room. 

This is just… so fucking weird. 

When Connor gets downstairs, Nate’s pretty much waiting by the door that connects the bookstore to the stairwell. He smiles when he sees Connor but there’s genuine concern in his grey eyes. 

“Is everything okay?” Nate asks, looking like he actually cares. “Jax didn’t say what was going on but they seem… pretty upset about something.”

Connor leads Nate to the sunshine spot and they both have a seat. The store’s quiet, and no one’s around, so he thinks it’s the best place to have a conversation he’d rather not be having. “First off, I’m okay,” he says, trying to figure out the best way to do this. “ _ I’m  _ fine. But I’m looking after a friend who… really isn’t. Who is really, really unwell, and needs help. He’s in my apartment, along with his mom who flew in from out of town, and the three of us are working together to make a plan to keep him safe and get him better.”

Nate’s eyes widen. “I’m so sorry,” he says, and once again, it sounds like he really means it. “Is there anything you need? Anything I can do to help?”

Connor shakes his head. “Thank you, but I got this,” he says quietly. “It’s, uh… it’d be way too overwhelming for Evan if there were someone else around.”

Nate’s eyes widen even more. A flash of… something flicks across his face. “Evan?” he repeats cautiously. “As in… your ex-boyfriend Evan?”

Connor sighs. “Yeah,” he says, biting his lip. “Look, I know how this looks.”

“It explains why Jax is so pissed off,” Nate says, frowning a little. “They, uh… they don’t seem to think much of the guy.” Nate frowns even more. “Your ex-boyfriend and his mom are staying in your apartment.”

“Yes,” Connor says. He swallows hard. “Look, I get if this is a dealbreaker for you or whatever. Most people aren’t super chill with someone they’re seeing hanging out with their ex.”

Nate nods. Looks like he’s trying to figure things out in his head. “I mean, I don’t… I’m not jumping for joy about it,” he says, his tone almost matter-of-fact. “But…” Nate looks at Connor, this almost searching look. “When you say he’s unwell, you’re not talking about cancer or a broken arm, are you? It’s mental health related?”

Connor doesn’t think he can reply verbally. He just nods. 

Nate looks… sad. Sympathetic. He reaches out and takes Connor’s hand. “I’m sorry. This must be really hard for you.”

Connor blinks a few times. Looks at Nate. “How the fuck are you so chill about this?” he blurts out. 

“My first boyfriend killed himself,” Nate says, in this even, almost calm tone. “We were fifteen. We’d had a dumb fight about something, I don’t even remember what now. He got his dad’s gun and he shot himself in the head.”

Connor thinks he’s going to be sick. “Holy fuck.”

“I blamed myself for years,” Nate says, his voice still so even. “Got a lot of therapy. Like, a lot. I know it’s not my fault. I know I wasn’t responsible for him. But I also know that if I’d known he was struggling and I’d had the opportunity to do something to help, I’d do it, even now.” He lets out a breath that’s a little shaky, a stark contrast to his calm voice. “So I think I kind of get it. If I were in your shoes, I’d like to think I’d do the same thing.”

“I’m so fucking sorry.”

Nate bites his lip. “I’m sorry about Evan. I really hope things work out.” He squeezes Connor’s hand. “Look, maybe… call me when things calm down. We’ll grab dinner then. Sound good?”

“Okay,” Connor says, utterly dumbfounded by the turn this conversation has taken. 

Completely and utterly shocked. 

Nate smiles a little. Squeezes Connor’s hand again. 

Stands up. 

Connor stands up, too. 

Nate leans in and kisses Connor softly. Brushes his hair off his face. 

“Look after yourself,” he says gently. “And if you need anything?”

“Okay,” says Connor with a nod. “Thank you.”

When Connor gets back upstairs, Evan looks at him with this expression of relief. “Everything okay with the store?” he asks, his voice quiet. 

“Everything’s fine,” Connor assures him, then sits back down in the armchair. 

Just sits for a while. 

Tries to process. 

There’s a heavy weight in his chest that won’t go away. 


	112. ONE HUNDRED AND ELEVEN

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> “He told me he still loved me."

Evan’s asleep and Heidi’s sitting at the kitchen table, drinking a cup of coffee when there’s a knock on the door of the apartment. Connor goes to answer it to find Jax and Maureen there, holding big boxes of vegetables. 

Fuck. 

Connor forgot about Soup Day. 

“The vegetable delivery,” Maureen says softly. “Is it okay if we come in?”

“Sure,” Connor says, nodding. “I can take that if you want.”

“I got it,” says Maureen, and she and Jax come into the apartment and put the boxes on the counter in the kitchen. Heidi looks a little surprised and more than a little confused at the frankly huge amount of vegetables. 

“Hi,” Jax says, their voice a little awkward, waving at Heidi kind of half-heartedly once they’ve put the boxes down. Then they look at Connor. “Do you need help? We can come help after closing.”

Connor considers. “I… can I get back to you? I just… maybe we can do some prep downstairs. Evan’s asleep right now but I don’t want to overwhelm him with too many people.”

“Okay,” says Jax, nodding. “That, uh, that makes sense.” They offer this polite smile. “Just let us know what you need.”

“Thank you,” Connor says, and Jax heads downstairs, clearly trying to make themself scarce. Connor gets it. He knows how pissed off they are at Evan, and appreciates that they’re being polite. 

Maureen stays for a moment, greeting Heidi properly and giving her a hug. They chat for a while but Connor’s not really listening. He’s trying to figure out how he’s going to peel all these potatoes when he’s trying to keep anything sharp away from Evan. 

Maybe if he washes the potatoes really well instead of peeling them, then chops them into small enough pieces, the soup would still be okay. There are supposed to be lots of important vitamins in the skin of a potato anyway, it’s probably helpful. 

He still needs to get a sharp enough knife to cut potatoes. 

Maybe he should just take all the vegetables downstairs, do this in the staff kitchen, except it’s really small and there’s no stove, and he’s going to have to cook the soup in here anyway, and what if Evan tries to hurt himself on the lit stovetop, and…

“That’s a lot of vegetables.”

Connor turns to see Heidi looking at him. Maureen’s gone, and Heidi looks so fucking tired. Completely exhausted. But she’s smiling, or at least trying to smile. 

“Yeah,” Connor says with a nod. He tries to explain. “It’s, uh, it’s soup day tomorrow. I make this huge pot of vegetable soup and on Wednesdays, people can buy a mug of soup and a bread roll for a dollar. I get a lot of people who are homeless coming in and other customers can pay for people who don’t have money to have some soup. It’s like a pay it forward kind of system.” Connor shrugs. “It’s really fucking cold out, and it doesn’t cost a lot to make the soup, and… I don’t know, it’s something I can feel good about, you know? Making sure someone’s warm and fed.”

Heidi blinks a few times. Connor has this sudden fear she’s about to cry. 

“That’s wonderful,” she says after a moment. “That’s a wonderful thing to do. How can I help?”

“You don’t have to-”

“Connor, sweetheart. What can I do to help?”

Connor feels his shoulders sag. “I, uh… I need to chop these all up, but I took everything sharp downstairs and put it in the bookstore? Just so I knew that Evan would be safe. Do you… would it be okay if I went downstairs and grabbed some knives? Can you help me make sure that Evan doesn’t… doesn’t do anything? Doesn’t try to…”

He swallows hard. 

“Yes,” Heidi says, her voice serious. “Yes, absolutely. Get what you need and I’ll help you chop vegetables. If we work together, maybe we can get it all done before he wakes up.”

Connor nods. “Okay. Yeah, that sounds good, let’s… let’s do that.”

It doesn’t take long when there’s two of them. When they both clearly need to be doing something. Soon they have two huge pots full of diced potatoes, carrots, pumpkin, broccoli and other assorted vegetables that have shown up in the delivery. Connor sets about adding the rest of the ingredients - vegetable stock, lentils, various seasonings - and soon the soup is simmering away on the stove top. Connor usually cooks it on a Tuesday, then heats it up on Wednesday morning when the bread delivery arrives. Takes it downstairs just in time for midday and serves it from the sunshine spot until close to four in the afternoon, or whenever they run out. 

Otis usually comes along to help out, Connor thinks distantly. He hopes it’ll be okay. Otis and Evan, that is. 

He remembers Otis telling him that he’d seen Evan. 

Tried to warn him about something. 

It…

It hurt too much to think about then. 

It doesn’t hurt any less now, to be honest. 

Connor just wants to keep Evan safe. 

Once the soup’s on, Connor takes everything sharp back downstairs to keep it away from Evan. When he gets back upstairs, Evan’s sitting at the kitchen table next to his mom. Heidi is holding Evan’s hands tightly between hers and talking in a low, reassuring voice, and Evan’s just nodding, this slow, steady nod that makes Connor think he’s not really hearing her, he’s not really there. 

“Maybe we could put on a movie,” Connor suggests quietly, and Heidi smiles at him before all but gathering Evan up in her arms and guiding him into the living room. Connor turns on the television, hands Heidi the remote and talks her through the various streaming services. Then he grabs a blanket off the armchair, one of the many, many blankets he now owns, and hands it to Heidi, who spreads it over her and Evan, curled up together on the couch. 

Connor heads toward the door only to stop when he hears Evan speak. 

“You’re going?”

Connor turns. Offers Evan a smile, the realest he can manage. “I’m just getting my laptop,” he says quietly. “I’ve got some admin to do but I can do it here if you want?”

“Okay,” says Evan immediately, and he kind of relaxes a little, something in his shoulders untenses, and Connor feels this pang in his chest, because Evan wants him around. Evan wants him here. 

That’s… 

That’s something, Connor thinks. 

Because he’s not fucking leaving. 

He gets his laptop and takes a seat on the armchair and goes through some bits and pieces. There’s another email response from a nearby facility that might be able to help Evan, so Connor forwards it to Heidi. He’s been sending her everything he’s found, the results of all his research and enquiries, trying to filter out things that are just too fucking expensive. There are a couple of places back home that look promising as well but they don’t come recommended like the ones in the city, the ones Praveed’s suggested. 

Heidi’s phone beeps and she looks at it, then looks at Connor and smiles. 

Clearly, she’s got the email. 

Her smile drops quickly, though, and Connor can see that she’s frowning at the screen, that she looks scared, she looks worried, and his stomach churns uncomfortably because he knows that she’s probably freaking out about how much this is going to cost, how on earth they’re going to afford this, and that’s…

It occurs to Connor, once again, that the way he grew up and the way Evan grew up are very, very different. He feels the familiar guilt in his stomach, guilt at how much the Hansens had to struggle. 

Maybe ten minutes after that, Connor looks over to see that Evan’s asleep on his mother’s shoulder, mouth open, snoring gently. Heidi has her arm around him and is rubbing his shoulders, stroking his hair, pressing a kiss to his forehead.

Connor’s chest aches. 

He checks his email. There’s a message from his dad. 

He has to read it three times to make it make sense in his brain. But once he does...

“Heidi,” Connor says quietly. “My dad just emailed me about the lawsuit.”

Heidi looks at him, frowning, looking confused. “The lawsuit against the hospital?” she asks, her voice cautious and equally quiet. 

“Yeah,” Connor says. “He agrees with me that the lawsuit should pay for Evan’s treatment.” He swallows, hard, and realizes with horror that he’s tearing up. “I mean, let’s face it, if I hadn’t gotten sick, things wouldn’t have gotten so bad for him. It’s… the lawsuit against the hospital should cover his treatment, it…”

He blinks a few times. Looks back at his laptop. 

Closes his eyes. 

“I don’t know how long it’ll all take to get sorted out,” Connor continues, not able to bring himself to look at Heidi. “But Dad’s confident he’ll win. Especially after all the help Evan gave him. He’s so confident that he said he’d pay for Evan’s treatment up front, as soon as it needs to happen, so you don’t have to… you don’t have to worry about the money side of things. Okay?”

It’s quiet, except for the sounds of the movie that no one’s really watching. 

After what feels like a long time, Connor finally hazards a look at Heidi. 

She’s looking at Evan. Looking at him like she’s trying to memorize every detail of him, stroking his hair gently. 

She looks so, so fucking sad. 

“I want to say no,” Heidi says when she realizes Connor’s looking at her. “I want to just say no on principle, because I hate taking charity, I hate it-”

“It’s not charity,” Connor interrupts. “It’s what’s owed.”

Heidi’s expression changes, ever so slightly. “Connor, honey, this isn’t your fault.”

Connor feels his eyes sting. “If I hadn’t gotten sick-”

“You didn’t choose to get sick. This isn’t your fault.”

Connor blinks. “I knew he wasn’t-”

“Connor,” Heidi says, her voice so gentle. “This isn’t your fault. It’s not your fault. You didn’t choose to get sick. Neither did Evan. What happened was… was so awful, and I am so sorry, but you don’t have to make amends, sweetheart. You don’t owe anything.”

Connor feels a little bit like she’s punched him. “That’s not why I…”

“I know,” Heidi says simply. She lets out this sad laugh. “And like I said, I want to say no on principle. But I’m not going to. Because he needs help. Professional, full-time help. And his life is worth far, far more than my pride.”

“This isn’t charity,” Connor says again quietly. “He… he deserves to get the best help he can, he deserves a chance for things to get better. It’s not a handout, it’s what’s right.”

Heidi nods. She nods and she kisses Evan on the forehead and strokes his hair and Connor goes back to his laptop, because if he looks at them for any longer, he’s going to start crying and never, ever stop. 

* * *

Evan woke up on the sofa, his head still on his mother’s shoulder. He felt… better. Not a lot, but a little bit more like he was actually there, like this was actually happening. 

“How’d you sleep?” His mom asked him quietly. 

“Okay,” Evan said. No weird dreams, anyway. “Sorry I keep passing out on you.” 

His mom smiled. “You used to do that when you were little and sick,” his mom. “Just curl up and fall asleep with your head on my shoulder. I’m glad you’re getting some rest baby. You look like you need it.”

Evan nodded, unable to deny that. 

“So, I wanted to talk to you,” His mom went on, giving Evan’s shoulder a squeeze. “Connor reached out to a place his therapist suggested? And they said they’d be able to get you in really soon, maybe even by the weekend.” She showed him the website on her phone, let him click through a few testimonials and services offered. Evan’s head was swimming. The website boasted a lot of specialties. CBT, DBT, mindfulness practice, meditation, medication assisted therapies, EMDR… Evan didn’t even know what half of those were.

“Oh,” Evan said, swallowing hard. “That’s… that’s good.” He dropped his eyes to his lap uncomfortably, reality setting in. “How am I going to pay for that? My insurance lapsed the second I resigned, they don’t let you keep the plan once you quit… I… Fuck. I can’t afford this.”

His mom’s smile faded a little. “I have a plan.”

Evan nodded for her to go on. “Okay?”

“Connor spoke to his father,” His mom said gently. “And Larry said he will pay upfront for your treatment while they wait for the lawsuit settlement to come through.”

“No,” Evan said, crossing his arms over his chest. “No way.”

“He named you as a co-plaintiff in the lawsuit, and you know he’s probably going to win -”

“I specifically told him not to do that,” Evan said, feeling sort of desperate, like he had lost control of his story. He felt almost dizzy. It was too much. “I don’t want charity, I don’t want his money, I -”

“Baby, we both know that we aren’t really in a position to refuse help,” His mom said. 

Evan felt his mouth tug down into a frown. “I-I… I have savings, we could... “

His mom shook her head. “You want to have a life to come back to when this is all over,” She said. “I don’t like it either. I’d much rather just… drain my retirement or-or get a second mortgage on the house or get your father to cough up the back child support he never paid but -”

“You can’t do that,” Evan said, his stomach dropping. “No, absolutely not, you can’t remortgage the house, you can’t get another job you went back to school so you could stop working so hard, I cannot let you do that for me.”

“I know.” His mom said. She kissed him on the cheek. “And I won’t. Because you and I are going to have lives after this, Evan. I promise you that.” She cleared her throat. “Baby, Larry offered to help, and while I don’t like it… I think we should take it.”

Evan shook his head. “It’s not right… after everything I did, everything I messed up… I left Connor a month after he got out of a coma. I left. I can’t take his dad’s money, I can’t...”

“I think we can all see that… that maybe that decision had something to do with how you’re feeling now,” His mom said. Evan kept his face burn with shame. His mom kissed Evan on the cheek. “The best way that you can repay them is to get well and try to make things right then. Okay?”

He didn’t want to agree. 

He really didn’t want to agree to this. 

But Evan was so fucking tired and he knew if he refused help now… 

This was the point of no return. Either he got help now, or he’d die soon. And while a lot of him really just wanted to quit, wanted to be finished, to be done, another part of him was defiantly hanging in there. Obstinately refusing to bow to the calls for death his brain was making. A small part of him was refusing to give up, and Evan thought maybe he owed that part the chance. 

Evan wiped his eyes. “Alright.”

“Good,” she said, kissing his cheek again. “That’s good.” 

Evan looked around and realized Connor was nowhere to be seen. “Where did… Is Connor gone?”

“He just went downstairs to work on a few things for the bookstore,” Evan’s mom said. “He’ll be back soon.” 

Evan swallowed hard, not liking that he didn’t know where Connor was, worrying that something could happen to him, something could hurt him or make him sick again. Evan hated that he couldn’t see Connor. 

“Please don’t try to argue with him about Larry’s help,” Evan’s mom said. “He cares about you. He just wants to make sure you’re taken care of.”

“He told me he still loved me,” Evan told his mother. 

“Oh?” She didn’t sound surprised, not really. 

“I think he only said it so I wouldn’t…” Evan trailed off. He looked at his mom, suddenly desperate to say this, so someone heard him, someone knew. “I love him so much, mama. And I know I don’t deserve how kind he has been. He’s been so kind and he’s been taking care of me, he’s been... I know I don’t deserve him. But it hurts… it hurts loving him and not being able to tell him. It feels like lying. I hate it.” 

She nodded like she understood. “Maybe once you’re feeling stronger, the two of you can talk it out.”

Evan shook his head. “He just… he probably just feels sorry for me.”

His mom looked really sad. “I don’t think so, love. I really don’t."

“Once I go away, I’ll probably never see him again,” Evan said, his voice so small. “I’m not… I know I don’t deserve him but I… I’d miss him so much if that happened.”

“I know sweetheart,” She said. “I know.”


	113. ONE HUNDRED AND TWELVE

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> "I think the tear is healing.”

Otis shows up at ten on Wednesday morning, at the same time as the bread delivery. Evan’s still asleep and Heidi stays upstairs with him, so Connor takes the opportunity to go downstairs and start to get things set up for when people start to show up for soup around eleven. 

They’ve got Soup Day down to a bit of a fine art now, since starting up just before Christmas. Connor likes the routine, likes putting up the table near the sunshine spot, likes putting out extra chairs for people to sit and enjoy their soup. Since they started Soup Day, their regulars have caught on quickly and by the time eleven rolls around, they’ve already got twenty cups of soup prepaid for people in need. 

Otis is quiet today, and seems… conflicted. He’s sad, but he’s hopeful, and Connor tries to see that as a good sign. He’ll never really understand how whatever it is that happens to Otis works, but he’s learned to trust it. 

Somehow, Otis is never wrong. 

It’s busy, so busy that the day goes by at record speed and Connor just lets himself enjoy talking to people and serving soup and bread and making sure that everyone’s fed and happy. He checks in with people he doesn’t know, that he hasn’t met before, and makes sure to give them one of the little kits he and Maureen made up of helpful things - toothbrushes, a roll of toilet paper, packets of baby wipes, and a laminated list of all the places in the city you can go for things like food and shelter and showers and bathrooms. He also checks in on people with uteruses and makes sure they’ve got what they need. Maureen has told him that part of her is she’s glad she’s trans because having to deal with your period when you’re homeless is a fucking nightmare. 

Connor’s been bulk buying up things to help and he’s kind of pissed off that sanitary products are the most fucking expensive of the whole lot. Seriously, it’s not like people have a fucking choice as to whether they menstruate. It’s fucking bullshit. 

Around two, he goes to make up more kits and realizes they’re out of toothbrushes. There’s a box upstairs in his bathroom, so he goes to get it. When he gets to his apartment, Heidi and Evan are sitting at the kitchen table. Evan looks tired but smiles when he sees Connor, this relieved smile that makes Connor’s chest twist a little, like he’s glad to see him. 

“I just have to grab something,” Connor says apologetically. “But we’ll be closing up Soup Day around 4 and I’ll be back then.”

“Okay,” says Evan, still smiling and watching Connor intently. 

Connor tries not to read into it. 

He runs into the bathroom, grabs the whole box then heads out. Evan looks surprised to see Connor holding a box of toothbrushes and he feels like he has to explain. 

“So I buy toothbrushes in bulk because a lot of homeless people come to Soup Day?” he says, feeling a little awkward. “We have these kits we give out with stuff they might find useful. I started keeping them in my bathroom because I’ve had a lot of people crash in my spare room and… dental hygiene is important.”

Evan’s eyes widen and he looks like he might cry. 

Connor wants to hug him. 

He doesn’t. 

He gestures to the door. “I’m heading back down,” he says, before doing exactly that and jumping back into the Soup Day routine. 

When four rolls around, they’re out of soup and nearly out of bread rolls, so they give the rest of the bread away to whoever’s hanging around. Otis takes the big soup pots upstairs to Connor’s apartment. The mugs get washed throughout the day in the dishwasher he had installed in the staff kitchen when he first decided to start serving soup at the bookstore, because they run out of mugs if they don’t, and Maureen is busy stacking the dishwasher with more mugs while Jax helps Connor take down the table and put everything in the store back to normal. 

People hang around a bit, which Connor likes. They take advantage of the reading shelf in the sunshine spot and sift through the bargain book bin, where they keep well worn second-hand copies of books for whatever people can pay. 

Even though people don’t have a lot, they’re generous with what they have, Connor finds. And books are useful when you’re homeless, Maureen and Otis both tell him, because being homeless is… super fucking boring. 

Connor doesn’t exactly think he’s an aspiring humanitarian or whatever, but he likes being able to help people. To do what he can. 

His dad shows up at the bookstore just as Connor’s finishing packing up Soup Day. He looks tired, but smiles when he sees Connor and gives him a hug. 

Connor’s still not used to the hugs, but he’s not complaining. 

“My flight was delayed,” says Connor’s dad, sounding annoyed. “I was hoping I’d make it to some of Soup Day. How did it go?”

“It was good,” Connor says with a nod. “We’re getting the routine down. I need to start thinking about what the best option is for summer. It’ll be too hot for soup then, but I want to do something.”

Larry looks like he’s considering. “Sandwiches, maybe?”

Connor shrugs. “I don’t know. Soup is easy, sandwiches are a bit harder. Doesn’t mean we can’t, it’s a time thing, you know? I can, like, whip up a couple of massive batches of soup in maybe an hour, less if I’ve got someone to help chop vegetables. But sandwiches are a whole other thing.” He shrugs again. “I’ll think about it.”

Connor’s dad looks proud. “I’m sure you will.” He looks around, making sure no one’s overhearing them, then turns back to Connor. “How’s Evan doing?”

“He’s upstairs,” Connor says quietly. “With his mom. He’s…” Connor sighs. “I have no idea, Dad. All I know is that he’s safe?”

“That’s not insignificant,” says Larry, equally quietly. He offers Connor a smile. Puts his hand on his shoulder and squeezes it. “You’re a good man, Connor. More people could stand to be like you.”

Connor feels his cheeks turn pink. “I’m just trying to help,” he says, feeling a little lost for a moment. “I… things are really fucking big, you know? People have big, huge problems, and you can’t just jump in and fix them magically. You can just do small things. So I… I try?” He sighs. “I don’t know if it makes a difference in the long run. Not really.”

His dad is looking at him, this strange expression on his face that Connor can’t quite interpret. “I’m sure that it does.”

“Yeah?”

Connor’s dad nods. “Completely.”

* * *

Connor was downstairs, Evan’s mom told him, but it didn’t stop him from having a total and complete meltdown when he woke up and realized Connor wasn’t in the apartment. 

“He sells soup on Wednesdays in the bookstore,” His mom kept telling Evan in this calm, steady voice, but it didn’t stop the voice in his head that just kept telling him that Connor hated him, Connor had every right to hate him, Connor was gone and not coming back, he was gone gone gone gone gone gone.

“Baby, you need to breathe.”

“He’s not coming back,” Evan insisted, his voice bordering on hysterical. “I know he’s not, he’s going to leave and I’ll never see him again and I… I…”

“Evan okay, listen to me,” His mom said, taking him firmly by the shoulders. “Connor is downstairs. I promise. He did not leave. He wouldn’t do that, okay? He’s downstairs.” 

Evan took a few gasping breaths. “He’s downstairs?”

“Yes.”

“And he didn’t leave?”

“He didn’t leave,” His mom repeated, her voice firm, her expression resolved and steady. “He’s just serving soup to people downstairs.”

“But it’s a bookstore,” Evan said, noticing distantly that his face was wet. “He doesn’t have a food service permit.”

Evan’s mom laughed. “What?”

“You need a license and a permit and to pass health department inspections to serve food,” Evan sobbed. “They have to give you a sanitation letter grade. He could get into trouble.” 

His mom was genuinely laughing. 

“I’m serious! I did all of the zoning and selling permits he’s not allowed to sell stuff that isn’t shelf stable!”

“Baby, he’s selling soup for a dollar for homeless people -”

“It’s illegal!” Evan protested in a small voice. “He can’t run a blackmarket soup kitchen! He could get into serious trouble.”

His mom pulled Evan into a tight hug. “I don’t think anyone is going to report him, sweetheart.” 

Evan took a shuddering breath. “Connor’s really downstairs?”

“Yes. I swear. He’s just downstairs.” His mom smiled at him. “Edgar’s here, see?” She pointed out the cat. “He wouldn’t go anywhere without the cat right?”

Evan nodded. Right. That made sense. 

“He’s going to come back soon,” Evan’s mom told him. 

“Is he mad at me?” Evan asked. “Did I do something wrong?”

His mom shook her head. “This is just what he does on Wednesdays. Remember, there was soup on the stove yesterday?”

Evan didn’t. He wiped his face. “I think I’m losing my mind,” He told her with an awkward laugh. “I really think I’m losing it.” 

His mom pressed a kiss to the side of his head. “You’re okay love. You’re just having a tough time right now, but we’ll figure it all out.”

“I just… I don’t remember things,” He said softly. “Like… what have I even been doing these past few days?”

His mom frowned. “You’ve been resting, mostly. You’ve slept a lot. We’ve watched Spider-Man a few times.”

“A few times?” Evan said softly. He didn’t remember that. It was all smudged and blurred, like someone had doused ink with water. 

“Yeah baby. A few times.” His mom smoothed his hair down. “You’ve been… you’ve been pretty zoned out, honestly? Just kind of… staring off into space.” 

Evan swallowed hard. “I’m crazy,” he said quietly, her words sinking in. “I’m actually crazy.”

“No,” His mom said, shaking her head. “You are  _ not _ crazy.”

“I feel crazy,” He said. “I feel…” Evan shook his head. “Nothing makes sense. I don’t know how I got here.”

“How you got to Connor’s apartment?” His mom asked, sounding alarmed. 

He shook his head again. “How I got this bad,” He said quiet, embarrassed. “I thought I was fine… I thought. I thought it would just… I don’t know.”

His mom smiled at him, this gentle understanding smile. “Connor told me you stopped taking your meds?”

Evan nodded. 

“And have you been going to therapy?”

“No.” Evan picked at his cuticle, but his mom took his hand and stopped him. “Not in… a while.”

“Okay,” His mom said. “Well that’s why you’re going to go somewhere to get you back on track.” His mom gently led Evan to the kitchen table. “Why don’t you try to eat something, huh? That might help?”

Evan agreed but only because he knew it would make her happy. Really, he was just watching the door. Trying to listen. Detect any sign that Connor was still here, still in the building, definitely safe and absolutely coming back. 

Edgar hopped up onto Evan’s lap, purring loudly, and Evan absently stroked his fur, trying to focus on that and not on the gnawing fear that Connor had left, that Connor could be hurt or dead or dying all because Evan had invaded his space, moved in on his privacy and he hated Evan so much that he had gone somewhere else, somewhere not as safe…

“Honey, you have to eat something,” His mom said. 

Evan realized that he had been ignoring a bowl of soup for a while. 

He sighed. Forced himself to swallow a spoonful. It took a lot of energy. “You said he’s downstairs?”

“Yes Evan. Connor’s downstairs.”

“What time is he coming back?”

“I’m not sure sweetheart, probably this afternoon.”

Evan pet Edgar’s head and tried to stay calm. Connor was safe and he was downstairs and nothing bad was going to happen to him and despite all of the odds, he didn’t hate Evan (or at least he didn’t say he hated Evan). 

Eventually, Evan’s mom gave up on trying to make him eat, and it was just the two of them sitting at the table. She kept trying to draw him into conversations, talking about upcoming Marvel movies and asking his take on a new issue of  _ Runaways.  _

Evan could hardly hold the thread of the conversation. He’d say one or two sentences and then his mind would skip back to worrying about Connor, if he was safe, if he was warm enough, if he was really downstairs and now halfway to Mexico on a plane escaping Evan.

Sometime later, though Evan couldn’t say how much later, the door to the apartment opens and Connor was standing there. He looked okay. Not overly tired, not worn out, not shivering from cold or angry. He just looked like himself. 

Evan caught his own face breaking out into a big smile, relieved to see that Connor was alright, he was alive and okay and he hadn’t left he hadn’t left he hadn’t left. 

“I just have to grab something,” Connor said, and he sounded… sorry. Like he regretted it. “But we’ll be closing up Soup Day around 4 and I’ll be back then.”

“Okay,” Evan said, still smiling. 

Four was only in two hours. 

He could make it two hours. 

Evan’s mom grabbed his hand and squeezed it and Evan squeezed back because he knew he could make it two hours. 

Connor came out of the bathroom holding the bulk box of toothbrushes from the cupboard. Evan’s heart flipped painfully in his chest. Was Connor going downstairs to… sleep with people? Give them all toothbrushes in a line, one by one, after he fucked them or something?

… Evan realized that was insane, nobody could have enough sex in two hours to go through that many toothbrushes and also that made no logical fucking sense, but still his head buzzed with a strange certainty that Connor was absolutely downstairs kissing and hugging and sleeping with other guys, other healthy normal not crazy guys. 

Connor pulled a face, like he felt awkward, like maybe he had heard Evan’s thoughts about the sex line in the bookstore. “So I buy toothbrushes in bulk because a lot of homeless people come to Soup Day? We have these kits we give out with stuff they might find useful. I started keeping them in my bathroom because I’ve had a lot of people crash in my spare room and… dental hygiene is important.”

Evan felt his eyes pop open wide. 

Connor wasn’t sleeping with a lot of people and giving out toothbrushes to them. He was giving away toothbrushes to people who didn’t have them because dental hygiene was important because a lot of health problems started at the gum line because Connor was a good and kind person who tried to help others help strangers who had less than he did. 

Evan thought for a moment that he might cry. 

Connor hadn’t moved on. 

He wasn’t sleeping with a million people. He was just… giving out toothbrushes to people who needed toothbrushes. “I’m heading back down,” Connor said, smiling at Evan and heading out of the apartment. 

He’d be back in two hours, Evan reminded himself. 

He could make it two hours. 

Four o’clock came.

Still no Connor. 

Evan was watching the door anxiously, trying to will it open. 

His mom was making a phone call in the living room, talking in a quiet voice and keeping an eye on Evan. He knew she was talking to his dad. He knew she was probably pissed at his dad because whenever shit happened to Evan his mom got pissed off at his dad. 

Five after four now. 

What if something had happened? 

What if someone with a gun had held up the store, what if Connor was hurt or in danger, what if -

The door opened. 

Evan’s heart leapt. 

And then sank just as quickly. It wasn’t Connor. It was Otis. Otis, holding a massive pot, who met Evan’s eyes and frowned a little. 

What the fuck what the fuck what the fuck. 

Evan stared at him, his mouth open. “I… I. Is it happening again?”

Otis frowned more. “No,” He said, his voice quiet. 

He looked a lot younger, Evan realized. Cleaner. Better cared for. 

“What are you doing here?” Evan asked, his voice shaking and strange to his own ears. He kept glancing over toward his mom, waiting for her to notice the other person in the room, but she was facing the window and talking in this rushed, frantic kind of voice and Evan was seeing things he was seeing this it was like all of those fucking dreams he’d been having it wasn’t real it wasn’t real it wasn’t real. 

Otis hurried to put down the pot. He held up his hands, as if in surrender, and gave Evan a cautious smile. 

“What are you doing here?” Evan asked again, terrified and desperately hoping his mom would look over here and confirm whether or not he was hallucinating. 

“It’s Soup Day,” Otis said like that made any fucking sense and Evan was going to absolutely snap, this whole place was probably going to blow up, this was it this was it this was it -

“Oh, shit!” Evan’s mom said, turning around fast and clutching her phone to her chest. “Sorry, Otis, I didn’t hear you come in. You scared me.”

“Sorry,” Otis mumbled. 

Evan looked at his mom, alarmed. 

“Oh, you haven’t met. Duh, sorry,” She said, laughing nervously. “Evan, this is Connor’s friend Otis. He helps out with Soup Day. I met him this morning when you were still asleep. Connor said he usually helps to bring things back up when they’re all finished downstairs.”

Evan looked between the two of them suspiciously, waiting for one of them to pull the rug out from under him, reveal he was being tricked. 

“But I…” Evan said, looking desperately at Otis, trying to make sense of it. “Don’t I know you?”

Otis gave Evan and then his mom each a twitchy grin. “Uh. Yeah we’ve uh. Met a few times? Me and you. I used to play my guitar around here.” He looked down at his shoes, a pair of combat boots from an Army-Navy Surplus store that Evan had bought with Connor last year and given to him. “You bought me Thai food once? That was really nice of you. I never got a chance to say thanks.” 

Evan nodded, his heart still pounding too hard in his chest. 

“Otis, do you mind hanging out in the kitchen with Evan for a few minutes?” Evan’s mom said suddenly. “I need to make one more call. I’ll just be a minute, I swear.”

Otis nodded. 

Apparently Evan’s mother trusted homeless guitar players who might be time lords and/or violent schizophrenics to watch him more than she trusted Evan not to kill himself in five minutes. 

Neat. 

Evan looked at Otis desperately. “Where is Connor? Is he safe? Is he okay?”

Otis nodded. “He’s downstairs with his dad.” 

Evan breathed. “What the fuck are you doing here?”

Otis shook his head. “I’m not always. I’m… here today -”

“-Gone tomorrow,” Evan finished for him, still not understanding. “But what are you doing  _ here _ ? In this apartment?”

Otis shrugged. “It’s Soup Day. I like being able to help.”

“How do you know Connor?” Evan asked desperately. 

“Same way I know you,” Otis said. 

Evan felt like he could cry or scream or… something. He repeated his earlier question, “Is it happening again? Are we going to start dying?”  
Otis looked thoughtful. “No, I don’t… I don’t think so. I think… I think the tear is healing.”

“The what?” Evan said, not following. 

“It’s not instant. Even stitches have to be removed.”

“What the hell does that mean?” Evan said, desperately. “I don’t understand. Are you really here?”

Otis looked spooked. “Are  _ you _ ?”

What the fuck what the fuck what the fuck. 

Evan was so confused and frustrated he was scared he was about to start crying. His brain felt overloaded, too full of stuff to process so it just… wasn’t processing. He wasn’t coping. He couldn’t handle this. 

“How are your ribs?” Otis asked Evan suddenly. “From the collision?”

Evan stared at Otis, his mouth agape. 

“I’m sorry about that. I tried to warn you. I really tried.”

Evan closed his mouth. Nodded. “I know. I’m sorry. About him. I’m sorry. He shouldn’t have yelled at you like that, he shouldn’t have… I should have… done more.”

“Not your fault,” Otis said, frowning. “He never really came back.”

Evan wasn’t sure he had either. 

The door opened again to reveal Connor and Larry both, and they were smiling at each other like they’d been having a decent, civil conversation and it was way too much suddenly for Evan. Larry and Connor and Otis and his mom in the next room talking to someone on the phone and none of this made sense and he didn’t know how he got there and he needed to check if he was real, he needed to just make sure, he just needed something to see if he was human and alive and a person just to be totally sure that he wasn’t a ghost or a dream or a hallucination. 

“I’m just… Bathroom?” Evan said quickly and he walked to the bathroom on trembling legs, shut the door tightly and curled into a ball on the floor. There was nothing here, nothing hot or sharp to test if he was real so Evan chewed at his fingernails, his cuticles, he chewed until he peeled back some skin, until it stung, until he tasted the iron tang of blood and knew for sure that he was real he was real he was real. 


	114. ONE HUNDRED AND THIRTEEN

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> "If all you ever did was sit on my couch and watch Spider-Man for the next sixty years, that would be enough. The world will still be better for having you in it."

It takes Connor a moment to figure out that something’s wrong. Evan looks terrified when he and his dad head upstairs to the apartment, completely and utterly terrified, and then he mutters something and runs to the bathroom, leaving Connor standing there trying to fucking process what’s going on. 

Otis looks at Connor, his eyes big and sad and so, so young. 

“I know what it’s like,” he says, something heavy in his words. “Not to know. Not to be sure.”

Connor’s dad looks at Otis with alarm, clearly completely lost. Then he looks at Connor, like he’s hoping it’ll make sense somehow. 

Connor’s brain and his heart and his feet catch up. He moves. 

He gently knocks on the bathroom door. 

No response. 

He opens the door cautiously, glad that he’d never had a lock installed, to find Evan curled up on the floor, frantically biting at his fingernails. 

Connor can see that they’re bleeding. 

There’s blood on Evan’s hands. On his lips. 

Connor feels like someone’s standing on his chest, holding it down, crushing him. 

He wants to cry. 

He wants so badly to cry. 

Instead, he sits down next to Evan on the floor. 

Just sits with him. 

“Is it okay if I touch you?” Connor asks after a moment, and Evan freezes, then nods.

Connor take Evan’s hands away from his mouth gently. 

Holds them in his hands, softly by firmly. 

They sit there for a long moment. 

“Is he real?” Evan asks finally, his voice hollow. “Is he… is he real, or is it… are we going to die again? I don’t want you to die, Connor, I can’t watch you die again, I can’t.”

“He’s real,” Connor says softly. “He’s… he’s just a kid, Evan. None of this is his fault.”

Evan looks at Connor, his eyes terrified and demanding. “Who is he? What is he?”

“He’s only just turned twenty-four,” Connor says softly. “He’s just a kid. And he’s… he has no control over what happens to him. It just happens, and he has to live with it.”

“What happens to him?” Evan repeats, his voice hollow. 

Connor bites his lip. “I don’t know if this is the right time-”

“Tell me.”

Connor nods. “Okay. Okay.” He steadies himself. “We both know that… other realities are real,” he says gently. “We know that, right? It sounds insane, it sounds completely crazy, but we know it’s real. We’re not… we’re not crazy.”

Evan lets out this sob that’s not quite a laugh. “Speak for yourself.”

Connor squeezes Evan’s hand. “You’re not crazy, Evan. Neither am I. Neither is Otis. We’re just… we all have bad brains, and we’ve all had weird shit happen that we can’t explain.” He squeezes Evan’s hands again. “For Otis… it’s not something that goes away. It just keeps going. He’s… he can’t control it, but sometimes he’s in this universe and sometimes he’s somewhere else. And not just one place, either… every place you could possibly be. Every…” Connor takes in Evan’s confused expression and tries to make it make sense. “Different universes happen all the time because people make decisions. So it… splits. They call it daughter universe theory, I don’t really know why. But…” 

“That’s why you were in a universe where I died,” Evan says quietly. “Because I made the decision to die.”

“No,” Connor says, shaking his head. “Because I never stopped you. Because I made the choice not to leave my apartment that night, to get high with Margot and Eddie, and I didn’t leave my apartment and go get whisky and run into you.” He shakes his head again, a little harder. “That’s on me. That universe… I created it myself.”

* * *

That was wrong. That was wrong. Connor was… wrong, he was so wrong, he was totally and completely wrong. “No,” Evan said, shaking his head. “No that’s not… that’s wrong. You’re wrong. I did it. I decided to die and I… It was m-my fault, it was my decision…”

“I could have stopped you.”

“No.”

“I could have. We both know that because when I tried, when I actually tried… I did it. I stopped you.”

Evan shook his head, rejecting that, dismissing it, it wasn’t right it wasn’t right. “No, no listen… Listen, please. I  _ know  _ I did this. I caused this I… broke everything for you. All you did was-was stay inside. All you did was try to h-have a birthday I’m the one who…” Evan looked cautiously toward the door, terrified their parents were listening. “I’m the one who killed myself,” He said, his voice low. “I’m the one who -”

“You needed help and I didn’t help you. That’s what caused it.”

Evan shook his head. “I don’t…” He wanted to bite his fingernails again. “It was real?” He asked quietly. “The-the dying and the waking up again and dying again? It was real?”

Connor looked stricken, but he nodded. “It was real. We died. We both died twenty times.”

Evan shook his head. “That’s… that’s crazy, I’m-I’m… Are you even real?” He asked, his voice cracking because he just didn’t know anymore, he didn’t know. “Am I? How do I know? How am I supposed to know?” He shook his head. 

“You’re real. I’m real too. See?” Connor said. He pulled his hair back, showing off the space behind his ear where a tattoo of a delicate feather now sat, the tattoo Evan had first spied when falling asleep the other night. He didn’t have the tattoo before the coma. He hadn’t had that before, Evan was sure. “I’ve changed. So have you. This is all real.”

Evan swallowed hard. “I r-read stuff a few times about how to see if you’re-you’re dreaming but all of the stuff online said you had to die and I did that and it didn’t work and there is a busker who might be a time lord in your fucking kitchen!”

“He’s not a time lord. He’s a kid. A kid with a bad brain, like we used to be.”

Evan shook his head. “I don’t know if I believe you.”

Connor squeezed Evan’s hands tighter. “It’s not fair.”

Evan didn’t follow. 

“It’s not fair that… that this unreal, insane shit happened to us and it’s… It’s making all of the other shit so much harder on you.” Connor looked like he might cry. “How are you supposed to be able to… to talk about it?”

Evan almost laughed because really, it was funny, really, it was hysterical. “Fuck if I know.”

* * *

“It’s not fair,” Connor says again, blinking a bunch of times so he doesn’t just start crying at how awful he feels about all of this. “I’m so sorry, Evan. I’m just so sorry.”

Evan leans back against the wall, where the bathtub used to be. “You’ve got nothing to be sorry about. I’m the one who keeps fucking things up.”

“You’re not the only one,” Connor says quietly. “I… fuck, Evan, I should have been honest with you from the beginning. About what happened to me last summer. About what I did to get back to my life.”

Evan flinches, this horrible, jerky movement. “I don’t know if it would have changed anything,” he says dully after a moment. “I’d still be… this.” He lets out this horrible, choking laugh. “I’m always going to be like this.”

Connor shakes his head. “I don’t think so,” he says quietly. “I… trust me on this, I got a pretty good look at how much things can change.” He leans his own head against the wall and looks at Evan. “When I was in that other universe, the one where I didn’t save you? They put me in the hospital for a bit and Zoe… she got me there safely, sure, but she didn’t stick around.” He laughs a little. “Why would she? Before I died and died and died, before things changed for me, we weren’t anything to each other. Just… people who share DNA. She was only there because she’d fucked my roommate.” Connor swallows. “And my mom… she came to visit, but it was like… like she didn’t know me, either? Like she was afraid to get too close, like…” Connor looks at his lap for a moment. “She didn’t hold my hand when I was in a hospital bed because she didn’t think I wanted that. Didn’t think I wanted her.” 

He braves a look at Evan, who looks so fucking sad. “Connor…”

Connor shakes his head. “That’s not the point. The point is that me on my 27th birthday and me at 29 and a half? Completely different people. Completely different lives. That’s why I fought so hard to get back. I wanted my life back. I wanted… a family I hadn’t pushed away. I wanted…”

_ You.  _

_ I wanted you. _

“Things to be better,” Connor finishes weakly. He tries to smile. “Plus, I didn’t have the lottery numbers memorized and I know fuck all about the World Series, so it’s not like being stuck two and a half years in the past was doing me any good.”

Evan’s still looking at him, this unreadable expression on his face. 

Connor shrugs. “I thought I’d burned every bridge possible,” he says quietly. “I thought I’d been such a fucking asshole that there was no way that Zoe would ever speak to me again. That I could be close to my mom again. But here I am.” He swallows hard. “And seeing that? Where I was? It made me realize how fucking hard I worked to get where I am. I’m not… I’m not saying that it was easy. It wasn’t easy.”

“You’re better than me,” Evan says, his voice so small. “You-you-you’re stronger and braver and… just better. It’s easier for you.”

“No,” Connor says immediately. “None of it’s easy. None of it’s ever been easy.” He rests his head on Evan’s shoulder, just for a second, before sitting back up, because he can’t do that anymore. “And it’s even more fucked up when your brain is against you and there are all these fucked up things that happen, these… universes and deaths and… it feels like the odds are stacked against you. Right? Like… like you’re doomed.”

Evan nods. He’s crying again, or maybe still, and Connor wants to kiss away his tears, wants to hold him close, wants to hold him until everything’s okay again. 

“You’re not,” Connor says finally. “Doomed. And yeah, okay, maybe the odds are stacked against you, but you’re forgetting a couple of really important things.”

Evan looks at him, frowning. “What things?”

Connor smiles at him. “First of all, you’re the hardest worker I’ve ever met in my entire life,” he says, absolutely certain that what he’s saying is completely, one hundred percent true. “You don’t give up. You work hard. You can do this.”

Evan looks… overwhelmed. He offers Connor a watery smile. “What’s the other thing?”

Connor smiles again, bigger this time. “You’ve got me,” he says simply. “And me? I’m a fucking survivor. I punched a coma in the face.” Evan laughs, and it’s almost a real laugh. “And I’m not giving up on you. Not now. Not ever. Okay?”

* * *

Evan laughed, sort of, at Connor saying he punched a coma in the face. 

But then his words sunk in. 

He said he wasn’t giving up on Evan and that… 

Evan could not let him do that. He couldn’t. That wasn’t fair. It wasn’t fair at all. “I… I appreciate you saying that,” Evan said, clearing his throat, trying to sound like he was a Rational and Sane Person, not the guy who was hiding in the bathroom from a familiar looking twenty-four year old. “But you… You don’t owe me anything. You should… You should probably hate me.” 

Connor looked really fucking devastated at that. Like his heart had been broken into pieces. “I can’t,” He said simply. “I… just can’t hate you.” 

Evan sighed. “I… I almost wish you would. I’d deserve it.” 

Connor shook his head sadly. “No. You don’t.” 

Evan sucked in a shuddering breath. “I didn’t know… about. About your mom and-and Zoe. When you were…”

“Yeah,” Connor said, and he sounded really fucking tired. His face looked a lot younger in his sadness; it reminded Evan of the kid he used to watch in the halls of their high school, hood up over his head and earbuds in to block out the world. “I should have told you.” 

Evan shook his head. “I… I made it about me. It happened to you, and I… I made it about me.”

“It happened to you too,” Connor said quietly. 

“Not the same,” Evan said. “Maybe if I… could actually get my shit together, I could have just been… been fine.” He was going to cry again, he knew it. He knew it. He was going to start crying and probably never stop. “I was… so fucking stupid, I -”

He couldn’t explain. 

Connor just sat beside him, not moving, hardly even breathing. 

“I was angry at you,” Evan said, the words tumbling out of his mouth. “I was angry at you because you-you said you wouldn’t go anywhere, you said you’d stay, that you wouldn’t leave… And then you did. You were just gone and I… Zoe was a mess, your parents were fighting all of the time, and I… I should have been better. I should have kept my shit together because that’s what you needed, what you deserved but I. I cracked. I fucked up everything because all I could think about was how angry I was at you for leaving.” He bit back a noise that was trying desperately to crawl out of his throat. “I’m a fucking coward. I… My mom had to drag me to the hospital to-to say goodbye to you. I wasn’t going to go. I couldn’t face you and I… I am  _ so  _ fucking  _ sorry _ . For all of it. I’m so sorry I wasn’t better or-or braver, I knew I needed to be brave but I just… I was just so fucking angry and hurt… And then I just left, I panicked and I left because I was scared of what you would do if I didn’t and… I’m so fucking sorry.” He sniffled pitifully. “I’m so sorry. So you should… you should hate me. You should give up on me… Because I’m… Because I don’t deserve you. I don’t deserve help, especially not from you.” 

“You’re wrong,” Connor said gently. “I know you like to argue, and I know you’re really fucking good at it, but you’re wrong about this. You’re so wrong and I will fight you on this.” 

Evan looked at him, for once in his life completely speechless. 

“I’ll fight you and I’ll win.” 

* * *

Evan looks absolutely shocked, opening his mouth then closing it like he has no idea how to respond. Like he’s completely speechless.

Probably for the first time in his life. Evan’s always got something to say. 

“You’re one of the smartest people I know,” Connor continues. “Maybe even the smartest. And you use your intelligence to fight for the world, to try to make things better, because you care. You care… a whole awful lot.”

Something flickers across Evan’s face and Connor wonders if he’s thinking about the copy of  _ The Lorax  _ Connor gave him when he passed the bar, the first year they knew each other. 

Really knew each other. 

“I didn’t… I didn’t care about things the way I do now until I met you,” Connor continues, his voice soft. “I didn’t know how to let people in, I … I was so lonely. And you were lonely, too, and you made me feel seen. Understood. I’d never had that before. Someone who… understood.”

Evan shakes his head. 

“And you work hard. You work so hard. You give everything you have, everything and then some, but you don’t brag about it. You… fuck, you undersell all the fucking time when the truth is that you are the most amazing, intelligent, hilarious, persistent, caring and kind person I know. You want to help, even when things are hard for you. You give so much of yourself, you bend over backwards and when people try to help you, you act like you don’t deserve it. When you do. You deserve every good thing in the world to happen to you, and I hate that it doesn’t. I hate that things are hard, I hate that there’s been so much pain in your life, I hate it so much and I wish I could just take it all away.” 

Evan’s crying, but he’s still looking at Connor, like he can’t bring himself to look away, like he’s afraid that if he looks away, Connor will disappear. 

“I haven’t got a magic wand that’ll fix everything,” Connor says gently, squeezing Evan’s hands tightly. “I wish I did, Evan. I truly do. But I’ve got you. Okay? I’ve got you. Because in spite of everything that’s happened between us, despite everything, you are still the best friend that I’ve ever had. And I have missed you so fucking much. I’ve missed you more than you could possibly know.” Connor blinks a few times, trying not to cry. “So hold on for me, okay? The world deserves you, Evan Hansen. It deserves to have you in it. And not just because I genuinely believe you could save the planet, because you’re  _ that _ smart and  _ that _ driven, but because you’re  _ you. _ If all you ever did was sit on my couch and watch Spider-Man for the next sixty years, that would be enough. The world will still be better for having you in it. Okay?” 

Evan shakes his head. “I can’t… I just can’t believe that. I’m sorry.”

“That’s okay,” Connor says gently. “I’ll believe it for you. Until you do.”


	115. ONE HUNDRED AND FOURTEEN

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> "We are going to get through this, okay? You are going to get through this."

The week felt like a study in contradictions. Too fast and far too slow all at once. Terrifying and scary, but also unbelievably dull and boring. Evan lost a lot of time just staring at the television, eyes not really focused, brain not really focused either. He slept a lot too because apparently even doing nothing was exhausting. 

Larry came by a few times. He talked with Evan and his mom about Evan’s upcoming stay at a treatment facility. Drew up paperwork about the money being given, because Evan was insistent that he would pay Larry back if for some reason the lawsuit didn’t end in a settlement that would extend to cover Evan’s medical costs. 

“Doubting my abilities?” Larry had said, looking almost amused. 

Connor laughed from beside Evan. “Well he did kick your ass once. He might have the right to be skeptical.”

God, that felt like it had been a thousand years ago, the memory dusty and untouched and ancient. Evan didn’t know the person who had beaten Larry in court anymore. That man was a stranger.

Larry rolled his eyes, and told Evan he would be willing to send over the casefiles he had for Evan to look over. Honestly, the thought of even so much as looking at a legal document made Evan’s stomach turn, but seeing as Larry had just basically handed him a blank check to get his crazy handled, Evan couldn’t exactly refuse. 

Someone had picked Evan’s laptop up from his apartment, though honestly Evan didn’t know who or when, but he spent a few hours on Thursday going through Larry’s work, highlighting sections, suggesting additional evidence and witnesses, clarifying a few points and generally just trying to… do something. 

Evan just wanted to do something. Be useful. 

On Friday, Evan felt anxious and boxed in and trapped because… Because he was supposed to be dropped off at a treatment facility on Saturday and he wasn’t sure he could handle it, wasn’t sure he could even make it down the stairs of Connor’s apartment. 

“You’re going to be alright,” his mom kept insisting, and Evan was starting to be unsure for whose benefit she was saying it. 

On Friday night, everyone else seemed fucking exhausted. Evan supposed that he couldn’t blame them. He had disrupted so many lives. Alex and Mattie stopped by, both looking grim and tired, and Alex checked Evan over medically and frowned a lot over the sound of his lungs. 

“The facility Evan’s going to has a full medical staff,” Evan’s mom said gently. “I’m sure they’ll keep an eye on him.”

“Good.”

Mattie hugged Evan super tightly before they left, promising that as soon as he felt up to it they’d come visit. Alex was more hesitant, though she hugged Evan too, and then promptly sniffled and wiped her eyes. “Take care of yourself, okay?” Alex said to him. 

Evan nodded because he was in no position to say he wouldn’t. 

After they left, Larry dropped by with a lot of Indian food, looking a bit unsure of himself after he set the bags and bags on the table and then crossed the room to pull Connor into a hug. Like he felt weird about Evan watching that. 

Evan just felt relieved. Connor deserved a dad who would hug him, not give him a stiff and impersonal handshake. And, Evan supposed, it might be hard to see someone acting batshit crazy around your own kid. It might make you worry. Maybe Larry was actually trying harder with Connor now. Evan didn’t know. 

He had made sure he didn’t know. 

After dinner, Evan’s mom yawned hugely and said she had a few calls to make. “Grandma Norah’s been bugging me for an update and you know how she hates texting. I think I’ll make a few calls and get an early night.”   


Evan nodded. Stood up to hug her, kiss her cheek, say he loved her. Because he did love her. He just felt very… backed into a corner now. He had to go to this place to try to get better… or else. 

Or else she’d give up on him. 

Or else Connor would cut him off. 

Or else Evan would die, and he wasn’t sure yet if he still wanted to die. 

Once Evan’s mom retreated to bed and Larry had hugged Connor goodbye and wished Evan luck in treatment, it was just Connor and Evan alone. Alone outside of Connor’s bedroom for the first time in days. 

“How are you feeling?” Connor asked him after a moment. 

Evan shrugged. 

“Seriously,” Connor said, nudging Evan’s shoulder with his. “How are you feeling about all of this?”

Evan sighed. “Honestly? Like shit.” He shook his head. “I feel like I just… really inconvenienced a lot of people and… and I’m terrified I’m going to fuck it all up again. I mean. What if I spend, like, two months there and come out again and nothing’s different?”

Connor put a hand on Evan’s shoulder. “I think… you just need to be honest about how you actually feel, you know? Don’t like. Try to put on a brave face or power through. Be honest and go from there.”

* * *

Connor doesn’t really sleep that night. He just lies there in bed, listening to Evan snoring, trying to quiet all the voices in his head enough to actually rest. 

It’s exhausting, being this worried all the time. 

He’s exhausted. 

He remembers what Evan said when he left.

_ “Do you have any idea how exhausting it is to take care of you day in and day out?” _

Connor thinks he has a bit of an idea now, at least a little. It doesn’t compare, he knows. Not to what Connor put Evan through after the coma. How he could barely walk, couldn’t shower by himself, was weak and fragile and broken. 

Compared to the utter mess he’d been, looking after Evan is easy. Should be easy.

But the past week has been terrifying and draining and scary and utterly, utterly exhausting. He feels like he’s scraping at the bottom of the barrel, like he’s having to fight to muster up the energy to keep going, but he has to, he just has to, because Evan needs him. 

_ “Do you have any idea how exhausting it is to take care of you day in and day out?” _

No wonder Evan left. If it felt like this.

The only thing that’s keeping Connor going is the fact that he loves him. 

He loves Evan so, so much, and he just can’t walk away. 

Even after everything Evan put him through, he can’t. 

Evan leaving makes sense now. He didn’t have the drive to keep going because he doesn’t love Connor the way Connor loves him. 

And that’s…

Not Evan’s fault. 

It’s not his fault. 

Connor knows Evan cares about him. Knows he regrets what he did, regrets letting him down, regrets leaving when Connor needed him, but it doesn’t…

Connor has every reason in the world to walk away. 

But he just  _ can’t. _

He thinks back to the conversation with his dad earlier that night, while Evan was taking a shower and Heidi was on the phone. 

“I know this must be hard for you,” his dad had said, his face tight and sad. “How are you holding up?”

“I’m fine,” Connor assured him. “I’m… I’m not the one who tried to jump off a roof, fuck.”

“It’s hard, watching someone you love suffer,” his dad had continued, putting his hand on Connor’s shoulder. “Frustrating, too. You just feel helpless, and it… it takes its toll.”

“Yeah,” Connor had replied, a little astonished because his dad had seriously hit the nail on the head here. “I wish I could do more.”

“You’ve done everything you can,” his dad said firmly. “No one can question that.”

Connor remembers sighing, resting his head back against the sofa. “Zoe’s pissed.”

Larry had given him a sad smile at that. “So’s your mom,” he’d replied, his tone light. “And it makes sense. They saw how much you suffered when he left, and they don’t like to see you suffer.”

“It’s not Evan’s fault.”

Larry had tilted his head then, this look on his face Connor still can’t quite place. “When you didn’t wake up after your appendectomy,” he’d said, his voice careful, “I was so scared and so, so angry and I wanted someone to blame. And the doctors didn’t have any answers, they couldn’t tell us what had happened to you, they couldn’t fix it, and we nearly lost you and…” He’d cleared his throat, sniffed a little, and Connor had been horrified to realize that his eyes were red. “We still don’t know what happened to you. We still don’t have an explanation. We’ve had experts going through your medical notes, there have been audits at the hospital, we’ve gone through everything with a fine-toothed comb and there is no logical explanation for what happened to you.” 

“I’m sorry.”

“You have nothing to be sorry for,” Larry said firmly. He’d kind of smiled then. “Obviously, we’re winning this lawsuit, and the hospital is going to pay up for what happened to you, because it shouldn’t have happened, but going through the evidence… I can’t just pinpoint one person to blame for this, as much as I wish I would.” He looked at Connor, his expression serious. “So I can understand your mom and your sister being upset with Evan. It helps to have someone to focus your anger on, because this whole situation… it’s been hard. For everyone.”

“What Evan’s going through now,” Connor had whispered, “it’s my fault.”

His dad had shook his head. “It’s not anyone’s fault. It’s an illness. Like your appendix.” He’d sighed. Squeezed Connor’s shoulder again. Cleared his throat. “I’m proud of you.”

Connor rolled his eyes. “For what?”

“For not letting your hurt and your pride get in the way of doing the right thing,” his dad said, looking directly at Connor, his expression resolute. “You had every right to walk away and you didn’t. I’m proud of you.”

Connor had blinked then, trying not to let his dad see his eyes stinging. “I still love him,” he confessed, his voice barely above a whisper. “I couldn’t walk away.”

“I know.” Something had passed over his father’s face then. “Evan kept working on the lawsuit, you know. Even after you weren’t together anymore.”

Connor hadn’t known that. 

He’d wanted to ask why, but he doesn’t think his dad would have been able to give him an answer. 

Evan murmurs something incoherent in his sleep, then flings an arm around Connor’s torso, moving closer toward him, his head resting on Connor’s collarbone. Connor wraps his own arm around Evan and runs his fingers through his hair for a moment, before realizing that he really shouldn’t be doing that. 

Evan lets out this contented sigh and moves himself closer to Connor, warm breath against Connor’s neck, and Connor’s heart is twisting, turning, jumping around in his chest like it’s trying to escape, but he doesn’t let go. 

When the dawn breaks, Connor gets out of bed. Feeds the cat, makes a pot of coffee and has a shower. Once he’s showered and dressed, he heads out to a nearby bakery to grab some bagels, hoping that he can convince Evan to eat something before they leave. 

Heidi’s at the kitchen table drinking coffee when he gets back to the apartment. The door to Connor’s bedroom is open and they can both see Evan is still sleeping. 

“How are you holding up?” Connor asks Heidi, putting the box of bagels on the kitchen table. 

“Didn’t sleep well,” Heidi confesses, her voice quiet. “You too, huh?”

Connor nods. 

They eat a bagel each in silence, broken only by the sounds of Evan snoring. 

“I think we should just let him sleep as long as we can,” Heidi says after a moment. “He’s packed, everything’s ready to go, and they’re not expecting him until noon.” 

“Makes sense,” Connor replies, pouring himself another cup of coffee.

Heidi looks at him, this hesitant look on her face. “I have another week off,” she says, her voice careful. “I wanted to stick around his first week of treatment. The doctor I talked to said it would be a good idea to acclimatize him, so he wouldn’t… he wouldn’t feel so alone.”

“Okay,” Connor says, nodding. “You want to stay here?”

Heidi looks at him, then sighs. “I don’t want to impose.”

“You’re not,” Connor insists. “You’re always welcome here, okay? It’s… it’ll probably be a long road for Evan, and I’m sure you’ll want to visit while he’s in treatment, so whenever you want to visit, just know you’ve got somewhere to stay. You don’t need to pay for a hotel.”

“That’s incredibly kind of you.”

Connor shrugs. “It’s something I can do to help. I just want to help.”

Heidi looks at him again, this long, sad look. “I know you do.”

* * *

Evan woke up alone in Connor’s bed. 

This afternoon he was going to a treatment center here in the city. 

Evan didn’t want to go. He wanted to stay here, he wanted to stay in this bed, in Connor’s apartment, where it was safe and he could hide out. 

He didn’t want to go because then…. Then it was real. It was all real. 

Then Connor would almost certainly be finished with him. He would have done his part and gotten Evan help and then… he’d go. Evan would be all alone again and he…  Wanted to stay here with Connor. He couldn’t imagine leaving. He was terrified to leave. 

Evan could hear his mom and Connor talking quietly in the living room. He couldn’t quite make out what they were saying to each other, but he figured they were probably talking about him. 

Fuck, he had made such a fucking mess of everything. 

Connor should have let him go, Evan thought for the thousandth time. He should have just let Evan jump. It would have been better. For Connor, for Evan’s mom, for everyone. 

Evan knew Cynthia and Zoe were very angry. Furious even. He’d overheard a short snippet of a telephone conversation Connor had made to his mother. Connor had sounded exhausted, his voice so defeated and tired and Evan heard him sigh deeply and say, “Mom, look, I know you don’t get it but… This is just something I have to do.”

Fuck. Connor should have just let Evan go. 

He had sounded so fucking tired. 

Fuck, what if he got sick again? What if it was Evan’s fault that he got sick again?

Evan couldn’t believe how much of a mess he had caused. Just. Such a mess. He shouldn’t be here, in Connor’s bed, taking advantage of him like this. Not when he had made Connor sick in the first place. Not when Evan had left him like a coward, when Evan had hurt him so badly. It wasn’t fucking fair it wasn’t fair at all Connor shouldn’t have saved him. He just. Shouldn’t have saved him he wasn’t worth saving there was nothing left to fucking fix. Evan was… a shell. Hollow. Empty. 

Connor shouldn’t have saved him. 

He shouldn’t have let Connor convince him he…. 

Fuck. 

He didn’t want to stay but he didn’t want to leave. He’d woken up for the briefest of moments this morning, or maybe he just dreamt that he had, and Connor had been gently ruffling Evan’s hair, had wrapped an arm around him and it was… 

Evan didn’t deserve that, he knew, but he wanted that back. He wanted it back he didn’t want to go he was empty he was hollow and broken and there was nothing left of him to fix. He just wanted to… close his eyes, fall back into that dream or half waking fantasy, he wanted to pretend a little longer that Connor might ever care about him again…

“Evan?”

He opened his eyes. 

His mom was standing at the foot of the bed, gently touching his foot. He blinked a few times, sitting up and looking at her expectantly. Awaiting instructions. 

“It’s just after ten thirty,” She said gently. 

Evan hadn’t realized it was so late. 

He had to be at this treatment facility by noon. 

“I think you ought to get up, have a shower, and try to eat something sweetheart,” She said, sitting beside him and taking his hand. 

Evan swallowed hard. “Mom, I…” 

She looked so fucking scared then, like she had all fucking week, like he was going to tell her something else that was going to break her heart and hurt her. 

“I love you,” He settled on instead. “Thank you for… I know how awful this has been I know I’ve… I love you.”

His mom swept him into a tight tight hug, and for a brief moment Evan was seven years old and creeping into her bedroom because he had a nightmare about Uhaul trucks and vanishing parents. He was young and vulnerable and all he needed was a hug from his mom.

“I love you so much sweetheart,” His mom said, her voice thick with emotion. “So much. We are going to get through this, okay? You are going to get through this. You are so strong baby.”

Evan sniffled against her shoulder. She was fucking wrong, but he held his tongue. “If you say so.”

Evan got out of bed. He showered and used far too much of Connor’s sandalwood scented soap in the hopes that he could keep the smell on him for as long as possible. He changed into an old pair of jeans, a t-shirt, and a hoodie. The conversation Evan and his mom had had with the specialists at the treatment center had suggested he try to stick to comfortable clothes as much as possible. Most of what he had packed were old jeans and hoodies and t-shirts. Evan couldn’t recall the last time he had bought clothes that weren’t meant to be worn to work. 

Connor was sitting at the kitchen table with Edgar perched on his shoulder. “Hey,” he said to Evan. He looked so damn tired that Evan had to physically bite back the flood of apologies he wanted to offer. 

“Hey,” Evan said instead of the thousands of “I’m sorry”s and “please forgive me”s he wanted to say. 

“I got bagels,” Connor said tentatively. “Wanna try to eat one?”

Evan didn’t, but he had put that look of exhaustion into Connor’s eyes so he agreed. He chewed mechanically, tasting nothing even though he knew the bakery Connor had gone to, knew it was good and knew their bagels were awesome. It took a lot of effort. His jaw ached as he chewed, but he managed to eat half of a bagel. 

As eleven thirty approached, Evan and his mom rechecked his bags to make sure he wasn’t missing anything vital. He wasn’t. 

This was really happening. 

It was really happening. 

Evan’s mom called them a Lyft, and then Evan found himself loitering near the door of Connor’s apartment. He didn’t want to leave. He didn’t know if he would ever see Connor again once he left, and leaving seemed so totally insurmountable. 

“Baby, our Lyft will be here in two minutes,” Evan’s mom said from halfway down the stairs. 

Evan was still just looking at Connor, who was petting Edgar. He should say something. He didn’t know if he would ever see him again. 

But then Connor was standing up and Evan realized, stupidly, that Connor had his shoes on. He was pulling on his winter jacket, and then a hat and a scarf. 

“You’re coming with me?” Evan asked, confused. 

“Coming to see you off, yeah,” Connor said. He wrapped an arm around Evan’s shoulders. “Come on. The Lyft is waiting.”

They stepped out the door. Headed down the steps. Descended back out into the world. 

It felt too bright outside, even though it was an objectively cloudy and overcast day. Evan had the distinct feeling of coming back outside after going to the theater to see a movie in the middle of the day being surprised to find it was still light outside. Like his brain had expected the world to simply stop without him in it, pause in perpetual darkness from the night of Connor’s birthday. 

The Lyft driver had a roomy SUV, but Evan and his mom and Connor all shoved themselves into the backseat together anyway. Evan’s shoulders didn’t quite fit between his mom’s and Connor’s, but he didn’t mind much. It felt like they were flanking him, protecting him almost. 

The city passed by in flashes and blurs. Evan’s mom talked about how she was going to stay in the city for the next week and visit everyday to help him get acclimated to treatment. She was planning, talking it all out in a calm and soothing voice, and Evan nodded along, agreeing with whatever it was she was saying because he was too overwhelmed and freaked out to try to disagree. 

Connor slipped his hand into Evan’s, squeezing tight. Evan’s heart squeezed back, just as hard, thumping in double time, a steady beat of  _ don’t go don’t go don’t go _ . He didn’t want Connor to go. He didn’t want to leave. 

The Lyft came to a stop outside of a mostly nondescript building. If Evan didn’t know better, he might have thought it was a nursing home or a hospice or something. There was a lot of foliage around, just trees with bare branches all around the building. He wondered if he would be allowed to go outside. 

They exited the car. Grabbed Evan’s suitcase from the back. Evan’s mom thanked the driver. Evan’s heart kept thumping that same too fast beat, getting faster and faster the more the reality set in.  _ Don’t go don’t go don’t go don’tgodon’tgodon’tgo. _

A woman in a flowy top was waiting outside. “Evan?” She asked, smiling. 

He looked at his mom, but then nodded. 

“I’m your caseworker,” She said. She gave a name but Evan couldn’t hear it over the sound of his own pounding heart. They were going to leave him here. They were going to leave. 

She said something about searching his bag. About turning over his phone. 

Evan swallowed hard and handed the phone over. 

Evan’s mom swept him into a tight tight tight hug. Swore she would come back to visit as soon as she could. Kissed him on the cheek and said she loved him and Evan just repeated it back, he loved her, he loved her, she was leaving him here she was leaving him here. 

They broke apart and Evan looked over at Connor, whose eyes looked glassy and faraway. It might be the last time he ever saw Connor. He needed to say something, to tell him, he needed to -

Connor pulled Evan into a slightly unexpected hug, tight and solid and horribly horribly familiar. Evan’s resolve was cracking. He sniffed unexpectedly, tears coming fast, and pressed his face against Connor’s shoulder. This was it this was it and he didn’t want it to end, he didn’t want it to be over, not now, not yet, he wasn’t ready. He didn’t want to let go yet he didn’t want time to march forward he wanted to go back he wasn’t ready Evan wasn’t ready to let go. 

“Just… Just. You focus on getting better, okay?” Connor said, his voice rough. “You’re… You’re really strong. You’ve got this.” 

Evan swallowed hard, still holding on as tight as he could manage, heart hammering hard in his throat. “I…”  _ Don’t want you to go don’t go don’t go don’t go I love you I love you.  _ “Thank you for… for everything you’ve done. All of your help. I wouldn’t - I… I can’t even… Just. Thank you.”

Connor let out a puff of air, his breath hitting Evan’s neck. He squeezed Evan tighter. “It’s… I care about you. Of course I wanted to help.”

It was happening it was ending and Evan wasn’t ready. He felt Connor start to pull away. “Am I ever going to see you again?” Evan asked in this pitiful broken voice, tears coming steadily now, heart hurting acutely, like he had been stabbed, like he had been wounded physically. 

Connor pulled away, giving Evan a look that Evan did not know how to read. Surprised. Sharp, maybe. “Of course. Of course you’ll see me again. I’m going to come visit this week, once you’re a little more settled.”

Evan didn’t understand. “You don’t have to, you… You don’t. You’ve  _ already  _ -”

Connor fixed him with an almost annoyed look. “I told you, I’ve got you. I’ll be back. I’ll be here so much you’ll get sick of me.”

That was fucking impossible, Evan thought. 

“I…” He didn’t know what to say. 

“You’re not getting rid of me that easily,” Connor said in a joking tone, but his eyes were shiny with unshed tears and Evan didn’t know what that meant. “I’ve got you.” 

Evan wanted to fling himself into Connor’s arms and say how much he moved him. But all he said was, “Okay.”

He hugged Connor once more. Then his mom. 

His caseworker smiled at him. “Shall we?”

Evan looked back at the two people he loved best in the world. He owed it to them to… do this. To try. He swallowed hard and faced the caseworker whose name he couldn’t remember. 

“Okay.”


	116. ONE HUNDRED AND FIFTEEN

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> "I love him. I always wanted him, just him, but he left me all alone."

Evan’s first week in treatment was… overwhelming. It was… a lot. Most of him wished he was still hiding out in Connor’s apartment. 

...All of him wished that. It had felt safe there. A protective bubble. Now things felt… real. 

He was really there. Evan was really in a psychiatric treatment facility.

His initial intake left him exhausted. 

He saw doctors and nurses and psychiatrists and a counselor and a case manager. 

Evan was assigned a special diet because apparently he was underweight and malnourished. He got put on a new antidepressant as well as antibiotics because he still had a chest infection and, embarrassingly enough, chlamydia. And also they slapped a nicotine patch on his arm.

Evan hated it. 

He just… hated it. 

He missed Connor. A lot. And his mom. And he had a headache almost all of the time, he wasn’t allowed to keep his phone, and going to therapy multiple times a day each day was unbelievably hard. 

His new individual therapist Oliver was...  _ weird _ . Young. Very different from Marcia. He smiled a lot, which Evan found a bit disarming. He always seemed to have on mismatched and colorful socks. And overall, he was… nice. 

That really threw Evan. Marcia’s approach had always been to cut through Evan’s bullshit. Oliver, however, seemed less interested in cutting through the bullshit and more in… figuring it out. 

During their first session, Evan said something about how he shouldn’t have let himself get as bad as he had, and Oliver had seemed… curious. 

“What do you mean by that?” Oliver asked, tapping his pen to his lips. 

Evan shrugged. “I mean. I knew that I was… fucking up again. That I was… sick or whatever. And instead of, like, trying to fix it I… was an idiot. I broke up with Connor a month after he got out of the hospital. I stopped taking my meds. Quit my good job for a job working for a guy I hate. I slept around and drank all of the time… Like. Rationally, I knew I was spiraling but I just… didn’t do anything to stop it.”

Oliver nodded. “And you… you think you should have been able to stop it?”

“Well, I mean… it was just like last time,” Evan had said bitterly. 

Oliver raised his eyebrows. 

Evan sighed. “I tried to kill myself when I was taking the bar exam. Three years ago.”

“What happened?”

“Connor stopped me.”

“Your ex boyfriend Connor? The same Connor who looked after you after this most recent attempt?” Oliver asked, furrowing his brow. 

“Yeah. Both times on… on his fucking birthday.” Evan ran a hand over his face. “I am… such a selfish fucking monster, fuck. I wrecked his birthday twice. I  _ left  _ him. He was sick and he needed looking after and I fucking left. I was cruel and just, like, drank a lot and slept with other people while he was sick and… Fuck. He should hate me. He should have let me die. I left him and he should have let me die.”

“Why did you leave?” Oliver asked, his voice gentle. 

Evan shrugged helplessly. 

“I know from speaking with your family and friends and reading your intake,” Oliver said, looking at his clipboard, “That Connor got really sick last year after he had his appendix out. He was in a coma and nearly died. He needed almost round the clock care when he woke up again. Is that right?”

Evan swallowed hard and nodded. “Yeah. He… he was really sick and really, like, physically weak. He couldn’t even get up the stairs.” Evan felt his eyes flood. “I used to have to carry him… Help him shower and get dressed. I… He’s, like. He’s a skinny person normally, like over six feet tall and rail thin, but after he got out of the hospital it was… scary. He was so thin. Like a skeleton. And he… They don’t know why but he woke up with hypothermia? And he just could never get warm. A lot of the time I was just, like, acting as a space heater? Trying to regulate his temperature by holding him and stuff. He was… he was really fucking sick.”

Oliver nodded. “What was that like for you?”

Evan frowned at Oliver. “Not great? I mean. He almost died. He was in a coma for three weeks…and it just really tanked his physical health. I started to, like, lose it. He was my boyfriend and my best friend and then he was just  _ gone _ . And I had to say goodbye and then… then he was back but he wasn’t the same and. It was really… stressful. But that’s no excuse. I was an asshole.”

Oliver tilted his head. “How were you an asshole?”

Evan chewed his lip. “I worked a lot. And the worse he got, the less I showed up at the hospital when he was in a coma. I was scared. They were going to, like, unplug him? His sister Zoe has power of attorney and… I wasn’t going to go.” He shook his head. “Because I’m such a fucking asshole. My mom had to basically drag me to see him. To say goodbye.”

“And you went?”

Evan nodded again. “I said goodbye… and then he woke up.” He wiped his face. “And I fucking… went back to work.”

“Why?”

Evan sighed. “It was easier? I dunno. It was hard to, like, be there? Be with Connor when he was struggling so much. And I knew I was…. A mess. I didn’t want him to see it.” Evan wiped his face again. “Because I… I just couldn’t keep it together. I worried constantly after he woke up, and I. I was bad and I knew I was doing bad but I didn’t want him to know because, like, he was in a fucking  _ coma _ , you know? My brain being a dick didn’t, like. Compare or whatever.”

“And then you left?”

Evan nodded. “I… It was stupid, but. I. Found out Connor had lied about something. Something from, like, before he got sick and I. It was like I went from zero to sixty. All of a sudden I was sure we didn’t trust each other anymore, I was sure I was just going to hurt him and he was just going to hurt me and I… left. Like a fucking coward.”

“Let’s try to take the value out of the action for a moment,” Oliver said, sounding thoughtful. “Tell me about how you felt when you left.”

Evan sighed. “Sad?”

“Is that all?”

Evan bit his lip. “Sad. And… guilty. And I was… really angry. Really fucking angry.”

“At whom?” Oliver prompted. 

“Myself,” Evan said. “Because I couldn’t get it together.”

“Was that all?”

Evan wanted to say yes, that was it but… Connor’s words from before he left stuck with him. He had to be honest. He shook his head. “No. I was… I was kind of pissed at Connor.”

“Kind of?” 

“Fine. I was. Like super pissed at Connor,” Evan said. 

“Why?”

“He had been lying,” Evan said vaguely. 

“What about?”

Evan swallowed. He had to be honest but… “he lied about being in an alternate reality” was too honest. He shifted his jaw. “He slept with someone else. When we were together, but before he got sick. He didn’t tell me until he woke up from the coma.”

“Shit,” Oliver said, blinking a few times. “That must have hurt.”

Evan shrugged. 

“I mean, you’d been so worried about him, you’d been taking care of him and… he was lying to you. No wonder you were angry.”

Evan nodded stiffly. 

He had been angry about that. He had been so fucking angry. Blinded by it. He had… it gutted him. Evan had been so fucking destroyed by it, it ate at him to know Connor lied, Connor had fucking lied. Evan exhaled through his nose. “It’s not an excuse I know. But. It just. It really hurt.”

“Yeah, no shit,” Oliver said with a wry smile. “That’s what I’d like to hear about. Tell me about that.”

Evan frowned. “It just. It sucked, okay? It fucking… hurt. It was like he’d stabbed me. I had been… a mess over almost losing him, I had been terrified for like two months straight, and he… he’d been lying. Keeping it from me. And the guy he fucked? It was this dude he went out with before we got together and he’s…. Perfect and Canadian and confident and nice and everything I’m not and… It just hurt, okay? It really fucking hurt that he lied and lied about that and expected me to just. Take it.”

“So you left because you were angry?”

Evan blinked a few times. “I don’t… I don’t know. I just. I couldn’t, like, see anything getting better. I just saw more lies. He’d lie and I’d be angry and terrified of losing him and not allowed to be angry because he was so sick… mostly I didn’t want to feel that again.”

“Feel what?”

Evan blinked tearfully. “Like he… Like he could vanish on me. Just, be gone with no explanation. And he… Everyone expected me to be fucking fine when he woke up, and it… it wasn’t fair. The love of my life almost died, had been in a coma for weeks, and I… It wasn’t fair. It wasn’t fair that I had to-to just act like I was fine. I wasn’t. I was… I am. I’m angry.”

Oliver smiled, almost triumphant. “You’re angry.”

“He left. He cheated. He lied. And I… I know that him getting sick wasn’t his fault, I know that, but it still hurt. It hurt and nobody cared that I got hurt.”

Oliver nodded. “That sounds so hard. Especially without support.”

Evan sniffled pitifully. “I just… my mom, Connor’s parents, Zoe… Connor too. They all just expected me to… to be okay. To be fine. But he almost died on me. He almost died and I wasn’t fine. It’s not fucking fair. It’s not fucking fair,” Evan cried, tears leaking out of his eyes now. “He almost died. Connor was just… gone. It wasn’t fair. I love him and he was just gone. He just… left me to deal with all of it, he left and I… I missed him and I was scared and it wasn’t fucking fair.”

Evan cried harder then, unable to stop it, stop the tears and the anger and the hurt from pouring out. “I didn’t… I didn’t want to leave or b-be a coward, an asshole. I just. I couldn’t see another way to take back control? I couldn’t see it anymore.” He wiped his face, hiccuping and crying harder. “He left. He left me first, and it hurt so much. I never wanted him to leave…or to lie or cheat. I love him. I always wanted him, just him, but he left me all alone. I never wanted that but I couldn’t. I couldn’t… I couldn’t let it happen again.”

“So you left.”

Evan nodded. 

“And you’re still angry,” Oliver said, his voice soft and low. “Because you have no way of knowing Connor won’t leave you again.”

Evan nodded. “It’s so fucking stupid. He didn’t, like chose to be in a coma. And we’re not… we’re not even together anymore because I fucked that up. I’m being stupid.”

“We’re not assigning value right now,” Oliver said. “Right now we’re just figuring out what you feel. And you feel angry. We know that now.” He smiled at Evan. “That’s huge. That’s progress.”

* * *

The first week Evan’s in treatment, Connor sleeps a lot. Partly because he hadn’t really slept while Evan was staying with him because he’d been too out of his mind worried. Partly because he’s just… sad. 

Really fucking sad. 

He misses Evan. Misses having him near, missing waking up with him, misses hearing him breathe, and it’s so fucking messed up that part of him wishes he were still here. It’s so fucking messed up. 

Evan is where he needs to be. He’s getting the help he needs, help Connor can’t give him. He’s being looked after, he’s being kept safe, and he’s going to be okay. 

But Connor misses him. 

He visits him twice that first week. Evan’s quiet, really fucking quiet, but Connor talks, quietly and steady. He catches him up on the kind of things he’d have told Evan if they hadn’t spent nearly six months not speaking. 

After the first visit, Connor buys a small notebook and starts writing down all the things he wants to tell Evan. Stupid stories about Edgar, about people they both know, about customers at the store he might remember. Little things, big things, irrelevant things, important things. 

Things like Andre’s daughter Celeste getting braces. Edgar farting on a toddler in the children’s section and making her cry. The blond YA author publishing a sequel to the novel Connor loves. The kid who plays the banjo at open mic nights getting into Julliard. Andi deciding out of the blue she’s going to be a surrogate and announcing just before Christmas that she’s pregnant with twins. 

He’s up all night writing in this notebook all the things he wants to tell Evan. 

And it just makes Connor miss him more. 

Heidi’s still staying in Connor’s spare room. She’s at the treatment center almost every day for a visit, just spending time with Evan, talking to his doctors and figuring out what she can do to support him.

When Connor’s not napping or working and Heidi’s not at the treatment center, they watch a lot of TV and eat a lot of thai food. 

Connor appreciates the company. 

“Is it okay that I’m visiting Evan?” Connor finds himself asking for the millionth time over pad thai and money bags. 

“Evan likes seeing you,” Heidi assures him. 

“I just don’t want him to feel obligated,” Connor explains. “I don’t want him to feel like I’m, like, forcing myself into his life again.”

Heidi puts down her chopsticks. Looks thoughtful. “I don’t think that’s how he feels,” she says, her voice soft. “He’s missed you a lot.”

“I miss him,” Connor admits quietly. “I… not talking to him sucked. A lot.”

Heidi tilts her head a little. “I think he feels the same way.”

Connor nods non-committedly, because he’s pretty sure Heidi’s wrong there. Sure, Evan might have missed their friendship, missed the sex, but it’s not the same as still loving him. 

_ Doesn’t matter,  _ Connor reminds himself.  _ What matters is that he’s alive, and getting the help he needs.  _

Everything else is irrelevant, and has nothing to do with anything. 

Connor’s just going to have to deal with his stupid emotions on his own. 


	117. ONE HUNDRED AND SIXTEEN

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> "Just… let yourself be happy, yeah?

Evan’s mom hadn’t gone home yet. She stuck around for the first week Evan was in treatment, visiting daily and having joint therapy sessions with Evan and his new counselor Oliver. 

The sessions tended to leave Evan exhausted. Drained. Used up. He’d spend the rest of the day in a daze, hardly able to focus and uncertain if he was even a real person. 

Oliver wanted Evan and his mom to talk about everything. Everything. 

“Why?” Evan had asked, frustrated and sad after a few sessions like this. “Why do we need to go over all it?”

“Because,” Oliver said. “My suspicion is that there is trauma in your past and that trauma isn’t something you’ve been able to get past yet. And I think it’s causing you a lot of pain.”

It wasn’t a great time, truth be told. 

Evan hated it. 

He hated that he was angry with his mom, and he hated more that she was angry with him. He hated that he kept making her cry. He hated it. 

He hated admitting to her that part of why he had pushed away from her so much during his undergrad and during law school was because he was angry with her. He had been so fucking angry with her. Just unbelievably angry with her because… Because she hadn’t been around when he was in high school. When he was actively looking up ways to kill himself every night, eating pizza and sad leftovers, his mom hadn’t been around. And when he thought he was ready to leave home, his mom convinced him to stick around. 

And then she still wasn’t there. 

“I know,” She said, her lip quivering. “I know. I… I am so sorry baby. I hated that I left you alone so much.”

“That’s… that’s the part that really sucks?” Evan said, his own lip starting to tremble. “Is I know that. I know you didn’t want to leave me alone all the time. I know you were working so fucking hard so things could be better for us. But… but I was still all by myself?” He practically whispered it. “I was all alone and I wasn’t okay and…” He blinked away tears. “I would just feel so stupidly abandoned when you weren’t around. And just… In high school I just wasn’t okay.” 

“I know Evan,” His mom said. “I realized too late that you needed more help than you were getting. And I am so sorry, sweetheart, that I didn’t know how much you were hurting. That I didn’t do more to help.”

“It’s not your fault,” Evan said, crying more still. “I know it’s not your fault. I was hiding, I was hiding all of it because I knew how much you wanted me to just get to have a normal life but. It just… it hurt?”

They both looked away, wiping their eyes. Evan’s mom reached across the sofa cushions to take his hand. 

“If there’s one thing I regret most Evan,” She said softly. “Was that… when your dad left I promised you I wasn’t going anywhere. I promised I’d never leave. But I… I fucked up. Because I left you on your own so much and… and I got resentful and angry when you learned to do things without me. I left you even if we lived in the same place. And that’s on me, okay?”

Evan shook his head. “But I… I’ve been so fucking awful to you,” He said in a small voice. “The things I’ve said to you…”

Oliver frowned. “Now might be a good time to… Talk that out. Explain where some of the hurtful things you said came from?”

He swallowed hard. He didn’t want to repeat the horrible things he had said to his mother… but if he wanted to get past them, Evan figured he would probably have to. “Okay,” He said, letting out a breath. 

He hated the sad way his mom was looking at him when he said, “You and I had a fight over Thanksgiving…” 

She nodded. “You were upset. That I went to visit Connor.” 

“Yeah,” Evan said. “I guess. To me it felt a little like. I dunno. Like you… were picking him over me. I know that’s stupid.” 

“Let’s try not to judge the feelings that come up,” Oliver said softly. “Instead, how about we just name them?”

Evan nodded. Picked at his cuticles. “I was angry at you,” he said to his mom. “Because I sometimes feel like you… don’t really like me very much? Like. Sometimes it feels like you’d rather talk to, you know, Alex or Connor. Or even dad. Sometimes it feels like you think I’m… childish and weird and. I worry that you think I’m a bad person.” Evan hated how defeated she looked, twisting a tissue in her hands, tears streaming down her face when Evan admitted it, his voice small and broken. “I just feel like. You don’t really like me?”

“How can you say that?” His mom practically whispered. 

“Heidi,” Oliver said, his voice gentle but firm. “Now is Evan’s time to express how he feels. You can respond when he’s finished.”  
Evan sucked in a breath, his eyes flooding again. He was ripping his own tissue into small pieces. “Well. Just. You.. We don’t get each other. We don’t… click, always? Not the way you do with other people I know. You and Alex, and you and… Connor. We’re always, you know. Butting heads. Disagreeing. And it feels like… Maybe you think I’m a fuck up. Maybe you only talk to me because you feel like you have to.” 

His mom opened her mouth and closed it a few times, looking devastated. 

Fuck. 

Fuck. 

“It’s stupid, never mind -” Evan started. 

“Come on,” Oliver said softly. “You’re doing well Evan. You can do this.”

Evan cleared his throat. He really didn’t fucking want to get into it. He really didn’t want to. “I just… it feels like. You like my…. Friends or whatever more than you like me. Sometimes, I feel like. Like they give you things that I can’t? Like, you and Alex talk on the phone a lot, but I hate the phone. I don’t call as much. And it feels like you’d rather be talking to her anyway. Or, you know, visiting with Connor. I mean, fuck, you’re staying with him right now! You guys just. Get each other in a way that you and I don’t. You have… you have to try so hard with me. And you don’t have to try with them. It’s easier with them and… it feels like it’s because you actually  _ like _ them. And you think… you think I’m kind of… a stupid, fucked up mess you need to take care of. I know the fight at Thanksgiving was bad, but. You stopped calling after that and… it made me start to think that maybe I was right. That you just… didn’t like me.”

“Baby,” His mom said, her voice choked and sad. “I am so sorry.” She wiped her eyes, looking at Oliver. “Can I… am I allowed to talk now?”

Oliver looked over at Evan who nodded. He nodded back at Heidi, who wiped her face again and took a shuddering breath. “Baby. Evan. I am so so sorry that I made you feel like that. I love you so much… and I will own that, yes, sometimes, I have had to try harder with you than I have to with… Alex or Connor. But… But it isn’t because I don’t like you. I love you so much, and I value you more than anything baby. I tried for a long time to make you play by my rules and I’ve realized those rules don’t always work for you. So I… I try to follow your lead. I didn’t realize that to you it might feel like I… I dropped the ball entirely.” She squeezed his hand tightly. “But Evan, sweetheart, I love you so much, and it comes so naturally to me. I don’t have to try to love you. To communicate sometimes, yes, but never to love you. Never to like you.” 

Evan nodded. 

“I’m sorry I stopped calling as much after Thanksgiving,” She said. “I let my anger get in the way.” 

“I’m sorry about what I said,” Evan said. “And I’m sorry that I, like, screamed it at you. That was… so unfair of me to do. I shouldn’t talk to you like that.” 

“I appreciate you saying that,” His mom said. She reached out and smoothed down a piece of Evan’s hair. “I love you so much, baby. And I just want you to be happy and healthy and okay, and it has been clear to me that you haven’t been in a while.” 

Evan couldn’t argue with that. “I just… it feels like sometimes you… you might hate me. Because I’ve never been, like, good or happy or… what you wanted.” Evan cleared his throat. “I feel like I ruined your life.” 

“You didn’t.” 

“You were a kid when I was born. You gave up your whole life and all I’ve done is disappoint you.” 

“No,” His mom said softly. 

“I just try so hard not to disappoint you -”

“Sweetheart, as long as you’re here… You can’t ever disappoint me.”

* * *

It’s not until after Heidi goes back home that Connor finally remembers to text Nate, and it’s only because Jax mentions him. Says that he’d asked after Connor, asked how his friend Evan was doing. 

“You should text him,” Jax says, in this fake casual voice that Connor sees right through. 

“I will,” Connor promises. 

Jax nods and starts rearranging books on a display near the counter. “He talks about you all the time, you know.”

Connor blinks. “He does?”

Jax smiles. “Yeah.” They look thoughtful. “I don’t know Nate as well as some of the other staff because he’s pretty new. He only just started in September. But he’s a really lovely guy.” Jax looks at Connor, frowning a little. “He really, really likes you. He’s said you wanted to take it slow.”

“Yeah,” says Connor, looking at Jax quizzically. “Are you asking me if I’m leading him on or something?”

“I’m not… not asking that,” Jax says, and their cheeks go pink like they’re embarrassed. “Look, you’re… you’re my friend, and Nate’s a guy I work with. End of the day, if it all fell apart I’m Team Connor, all the way. But Nate’s honestly a good guy and he seems pretty smitten with you. I just… can’t quite figure out where you’re at. And with Evan suddenly being back in your life…”

“Evan and I were friends for a long time before we dated,” Connor says immediately. “You only really knew us as a couple, so it’s… I get that it’s weird for you. And I…” He sighs. Runs his hand through his hair absently. “Evan doesn’t want me. He’s made it pretty fucking clear that he doesn’t love me. And I can’t say that doesn’t hurt and that I’m totally over it. But… I want to be? I want to be his friend and support him the best I can, but I…” He sighs again. “You were right. I need to move on. And Nate’s great. Really nice, really cute... really fucking patient with me. Really fucking understanding about the fact that I just had my ex-boyfriend and his mom move into my apartment for a week. I like him. Maybe… maybe I could love him? I don’t know. But I’m willing to try?”

“That’s all you can really do,” Jax says, and their eyes are sympathetic. “After everything that happened, everything you went through, you deserve someone like Nate. Just… let yourself be happy, yeah?”

Connor tries to take Jax’s advice. He texts Nate, asking if he wants to hang out that weekend. 

Nate texts back immediately, inviting Connor around to his place for a meal, saying that he’ll cook. 

Connor takes a moment to consider, then agrees. 

The next night he shows up at Nate’s apartment with a bottle of whisky. He knocks on the door and immediately smells something burning. Nate opens the door and looks panicked. 

There’s… definitely smoke. 

“Fuck,” Nate says frantically. “Okay, so I may have overestimated my cooking abilities.”

Connor can’t help it, he has to laugh. Helps Nate clean up the charred mess in the kitchen and orders Thai food on UberEats. By the time they’ve got the place aired out and clean, their food arrives and they sit on the sofa, Nate apologizing profusely the whole time. 

“I was trying to impress you,” Nate says forlornly. “Jax says you’re a good cook.”

“I basically cook everything in a slow cooker,” Connor confesses. “Totally avoids the whole ‘burning the kitchen down’ thing.” 

“I didn’t burn the kitchen down.”

“Not for lack of trying.”

After they finish their Thai, they break out the whisky. It’s easy to talk to Nate, Connor finds. He’s good at keeping the conversation going. He’s funny. He makes Connor feel comfortable, comfortable enough that between the two of them, they get through more whisky than maybe they should. 

Nate kisses him and he tastes like whisky and pad thai. 

Connor wraps his arms around him and kisses him deeper. 

Nate’s hands explore Connor’s torso, tugging at the bottom of Connor’s shirt. 

Connor freezes. 

And Nate pulls his hands away immediately. Looks at Connor with concerned eyes. 

“Are you okay?”

“Sorry,” Connor says, feeling his heart start to beat too fast. “Sorry, I…”

“Let’s just stop for a minute,” Nate says, his voice calm and steady. 

“I really like you,” Connor blurts out. “But I don’t think I can do this.”

Nate frowns. “Okay. What do you mean by  _ this _ ?”

“Sex,” Connor says instantly. “Which is… so fucking weird because I can definitely have sex, I have had sex before and pretty fucking successfully, I just… haven’t since I got sick and I’m kind of… I don’t think I’m ready.” He frowns. “I get if that’s a deal breaker-”

“Of course not,” Nate says gently. 

“The coma kind of fucked me up physically?” Connor tries to explain. “So I’m…”

_ Broken.  _

_ Skin and bones.  _

_ Disgusting.  _

“I’m not, like, fully back to health,” Connor continues. “And I have a lot of scarring on my stomach and it’s probably super gross-”

“Nothing about you is gross,” Nate says firmly. “But we don’t have to do anything you’re not comfortable with. That’s… I never want you to be uncomfortable.”

“I like you,” Connor says hesitantly. “I do, and it’s…” He sighs. Runs his hand through his hair. “So I haven’t really… dated a lot? I’ve, like, had a lot of hookups and casual things but they were all kind of just sex and right now sex is kind of off the table so I… I don’t really know what to do? Or how it’s supposed to work? You’re great but I’m kind of a fucking mess so it’s totally cool if you want to call it-”

“Connor,” Nate says, smiling a little. “I like you, too. I want to keep seeing you. Get to know you. We can go at whatever pace you need, okay? And you’re not a mess. You’ve had a lot of shit go down, more than most people. I’m happy just spending time with you.”

“Okay,” Connor says, nodding. “That’s… yeah, okay.”


	118. ONE HUNDRED AND SEVENTEEN

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> “Dude, no offense, but... after everything, knowing the name of your illness is nowhere near enough to make me leave.”

While Evan certainly couldn’t say he liked life at the treatment facility where he was staying, he didn’t hate it completely. There was a routine, which he appreciated, and the staff kept clients (they called them clients, never patients) occupied so Evan wasn’t ever really bored. 

He had spent some time being sort of annoyed that almost every other smoker in the facility was allowed to continue smoking, but his caseworker Cristina told him that his initial assessment took that off the table for him, since cigarettes were tied to his self harm behaviors. Instead, they slapped a nicotine patch on him… Other people were prescribed oral drugs to help with nicotine cravings, but one of the main side effects of those drugs was suicidal thoughts and that’s why Evan was here so… 

He had an entire team of people he saw in treatment. A medical doctor, Dr. Shaw, who oversaw his physical health (and kept encouraging him to eat more). A psychiatrist who wanted to be called Dr. Kate because her last name was Lewandowski, to handle his meds. And a counselor, Oliver, that Evan saw three times a week. There were also group sessions and mindfulness practices and stuff like yoga. 

It was okay. 

One thing he hadn’t expected but appreciated was that he could have visitors. And Connor came by twice each week, which warmed Evan to his core, reduced him to a grateful, often weepy, mess. 

During Evan’s second week at the facility, he was asked to meet with all three members of his dedicated care team, and honestly Evan was pretty freaked out. Meeting with all three of them at once seemed like… extremely bad news. 

They met in Dr. Kate’s office, and she and Oliver chatted idly with Evan about the weather while they waited for Dr. Shaw. 

“Am I like… getting kicked out or something?” Evan asked, his voice strained and anxious. Was he that bad, that crazy that they were throwing him out of here? What the fuck would he do then?

Oliver shook his head. “Absolutely not. We just wanted to give space and time to talk to you about how you were doing and…” He glanced quickly to Dr. Kate. “And to discuss how we’re going to move forward after today.”

“What’s today?” Evan asked, his mouth dry. 

That was the moment Dr. Shaw arrived. 

Dr. Kate smiled at Evan, this strange sympathetic sort of smile. “The three of us have met to work collaboratively to come up with the best treatment plan for you. And I realize this all probably seems a bit overwhelming, so we’re going to take this one step at a time.”

Evan nodded, his heart speeding painfully in his chest. 

Dr. Shaw chimed in with her soft, raspy voice. “Evan, it’s our shared opinion that you had been previously misdiagnosed.”

Evan stared at them all in turn. “Misdiagnosed?” He repeated, trying it out. 

Oliver looked at Evan and gave him an encouraging smile. “Okay, so you and I have been talking a little about how… about how depression and anxiety don’t seem to explain everything you’ve been experiencing, symptoms wise. How you’ve struggled especially with anger, fear of abandonment, and impulsivity,” he said. “And we discussed how there’s a lot of trauma in your past, which is certainly impacting your wellbeing.”

“So, what, I have… I have PTSD?” Evan asked, lost, not following. 

“It’s likely that is a factor,” Dr. Shaw chimed in. 

“But the three of us believe that you exhibit many of the signs and symptoms of Borderline Personality Disorder.”

Evan felt like he had been punched. Like someone had socked him right in the diaphragm. A… a personality disorder? 

That wasn’t… that. 

Evan didn’t even know what the fuck that was. 

The only time he remembered hearing it was after going on a bad movie binge with Sabrina; she had said something about Glen Close in some movie...

“Wasn’t that the thing that the bunny boiler from  _ Fatal Attraction  _ had?” Evan asked, his head spinning, heart still beating too fast. He couldn’t… he wasn’t that crazy. He wasn’t  _ that  _ crazy, was he?

Oliver and Dr. Kate looked at each other quickly. “That isn’t an accurate representation.”

“I don’t… I don’t know what this means,” Evan said quickly. “What is… What exactly is borderline personality disorder?”

Oliver smiled at him and Evan tried to focus on that. “So really, what BPD means is that a person has a hard time regulating emotions. They tend to have unstable moods, feelings, relationships, and behaviors. They just… have a harder time managing that than people without it.” 

Evan shook his head because that… that wasn’t right. He regulated his emotions well, sometimes too well, to the point of shutting them down completely. He could practically turn them off, feel nothing… He could regulate fine he just had to regulate a lot of shit.

Dr. Kate leaned forward in her chair. “So… there’s nine criteria that are used to describe BPD symptoms or signs. You have to show signs of at least five to be diagnosed.” 

“What are the signs?” Evan asked, his head buzzing, his pulse quickening. Maybe they had it wrong. Evan liked evidence, maybe he could talk them out of it.

Dr. Shaw nodded at him. “So. The first one is intense and usually unstable relationships. Ones with lots of fighting and… turmoil. Not just romantic relationships either, family, friends…” He looked down at the chart in front of him. “I see from your file that until you checked in here, you were estranged from your mother, most of your friends, and also you had recently ended a romantic relationship immediately after your ex got sick?”

Evan blinked a few times rapidly, nodding. 

“People with BPD also experience a persistent feeling of being bored or empty.”

...Fuck.

Oliver nodded. “We’ve talked a bit about how you’ve struggled with those feelings, especially in the last year or so.”

Dr. Kate went on. “People with BPD tend not to see themselves super clearly, which impacts moods and values. It’s sort of like… identity discombobulation. Not knowing who you are without someone else or a job.” She looked back at his chart, “Which it sounds like is something you have worried about since arriving. Not knowing who you are anymore now that you aren’t working.”

Evan nodded, trying to take all of this in, trying to wrap his head around this, trying to… see why they thought he was like that. “What else?”

Oliver looked said, “So. Impulse control can be hard? Like… drinking too much or driving recklessly, or having a lot of unsafe sex.” 

Evan swallowed hard. Yeah. That was… him. “Oh.” He had lost count of how many applied to him now. He had totally lost count.

Dr. Kate nodded, “There are also issues with anger, usually resulting in violent or abusive outbursts, followed by extreme feelings of guilt and remorse.”

Oliver met Evan’s eyes at that. 

“Suicidal thoughts or self harm behaviors are also very common,” Dr. Shaw added. “And since you came here following a suicidal episode and have been honest about the degree to which you have been burning yourself, I think we can tick that box.”

Evan felt like he might fucking cry or… die or something. 

Oliver looked at him sympathetically. “There also really intense depression, anxiety, and irritability which can stretch on for days. Forms of dissociation, like feeling spaced out or paranoid or not really remembering details.”

Evan thought he might be sick. Holy shit. Holy shit he was… he had all of these fucking things. He had all of them. 

“The last one,” Dr. Kate said gently, looking down at her list, “is an intense fear of abandonment, which usually leads to extreme attempts to avoid feeling like you might be abandoned.” 

Fuck. 

Fuck. 

That was him, that was all him, he had… all of that. 

All of it. 

Fuck. 

He was officially, diagnosably, crazy.

He was  _ that  _ crazy. He was that bad he was that bad this was bad this was really fucking bad bad bad...

“So…” Evan said, his heart in his throat. “So what does that mean, exactly?” He imagined them saying he’d be moved to a longer term facility, he imagined it meant he’d be locked away and be nothing, see nobody, be quarantined in his own illness for the rest of his (hopefully short) life. 

Oliver smiled. “It means that we are going to utilize some therapy techniques that work well with BPD.” 

“That’s it?” Evan said, confused. 

Dr. Kate nodded, “We’ll probably keep you on some medication to manage the feelings of anxiety and depression. Make sure we find the right fit for you. And Dr. Shaw here will monitor your progress to see to it that you don’t resume self harming.”

“Really that’s… that’s it?” He shook his head. “You tell me I have, like, a broken personality and the solution is to just… keep doing what we’ve been doing?”

“Not exactly,” Oliver jumped in. “You and I will start working together utilizing dialectic behavioral therapy, which is a little different than just cognitive behavioral therapy. And we’ll design a treatment plan that helps you specifically to manage the more difficult parts of your disorder. It’s… sort of like adjusting a glasses prescription. The lens we had been using just didn’t quite address the problem fully. Now that we have a more accurate picture, we can get you some new frames. Does that make sense?”

Evan nodded dumbly, feeling his insides go cold, feeling like they were downplaying this for him. 

They kept reassuring him that  _ knowing  _ he had a personality disorder was a good thing. That it meant he would get proper treatment and they could better manage his symptoms now that they understood where they stemmed from. 

Oliver smiled at him. “BPD is difficult to treat, I won’t lie, but it’s not impossible. With the right approach, I think you can start to feel a whole lot better.” 

They kept telling Evan it would be okay, but Evan could barely hear them. They put some literature in his hands and said they would discuss it more in his upcoming sessions. 

But Evan hardly heard them because… because his personality was broken. His whole fucking personality was broken.

He spent the rest of the day in a fog, hardly recognizing when time passed. His brain just kept looping over the symptoms and signs that his care team had given him, his brain snagging on things like “intense fear of abandonment” and “persistent feeling of being bored or empty” and “issues with anger.” 

Fuck. 

Fuck. 

Fucking fuck.

* * *

Connor visited over the weekend. He kept bringing Evan books to read, which Evan appreciated because he had way more downtime than he knew what to do with in this place. They offered a lot of activities and when Evan first got there he had thrown himself into them, trying to distract himself, trying to just jump in and get better, but Oliver kept encouraging him to take time to do things he enjoyed, like reading. And, apparently, there were limits on how much therapy someone could actually take on in a week. Who knew? 

Evan frowned a little down at the cover of the book. “A mystery?”

Connor nodded. “My dad recommended it, otherwise I wouldn’t have brought it for you. I know you usually solve them before the book gets there, but my dad said this one had him stumped until the end.” 

Evan tried to smile, tried to find his voice to thank Connor for coming for thinking about Evan for bringing him books to read but his brain was just parading pieces of information about his new diagnosis around and around, brandishing “fear of abandonment or perceived abandonment” around like a baton. 

“Everything okay?” Connor asked, and he looked worried. “You seem a bit distracted.” 

Evan looked up at him. “Oh. Well. No, actually, um. The… the doctors here uh. They think I was misdiagnosed before.”

Connor looked confused. “What?”

“Yeah,” Evan said hollowly. “Apparently I don’t have an anxiety disorder. Can’t wait to send a note to Dr. Sherman back home thanking him for fucking that one up when I was thirteen. Could have saved a lot of fucking time.”

“But you… I mean I’ve  _ seen  _ you have panic attacks, like, it’s not…” Connor shook his head. “I mean this in a nice way but you… you  _ definitely  _ have anxiety.”

“Yeah, no shit,” Evan said softly. 

“Well what do they think it is then?” Connor asked. 

Evan looked up from where he had been staring at his hands. “It’s bad, Connor. I’m… I’m actually, like, genuinely scared.”

Connor reached out a hand and loosely grasped Evan’s fingers before letting go quickly. “Whatever it is, you can tell me.” 

Evan nodded. “They uh. They think I have something called Borderline Personality Disorder.” 

Connor’s eyebrows knit together. “Oh.”

“Oh?” Evan repeated. His heart was pounding so fucking hard. 

“I mean, to be honest I don’t really… know much about what that means?” Connor said, looking thoughtful. “But I mean, well, if you know what it is now, doesn’t that make it easier to treat?”

Evan stared at him. “It’s… apparently very difficult to treat. It’s like… I’m a fucking freak, I have a broken personality, that’s…” He bit his lip. “That’s worse than just. I get it. If you’re done with me… if you want to just go -”

“Dude, no offense, but... after everything, knowing the name of your illness is nowhere near enough to make me leave.”

* * *

The first thing Connor does when he gets into the Lyft from the treatment center Evan’s staying in back to the bookstore is look up Borderline Personality Disorder on his phone. 

_ Borderline personality disorder (BPD), also known as emotionally unstable personality disorder (EUPD), is a mental illness characterized by a long-term pattern of unstable relationships, a distorted sense of self, and strong emotional reactions. There is often self-harm and other dangerous behavior. People may also struggle with a feeling of emptiness, fear of abandonment, and detachment from reality. Symptoms may be triggered by seemingly normal events. The behavior typically begins by early adulthood and occurs across a variety of situations. Substance abuse, depression, and eating disorders are commonly associated with BPD. Up to 10% of people affected die by suicide. _

“Fucking hell,” Connor mutters to himself. The Lyft driver looks at him, clearly a little concerned, and Connor tries to smile. Makes some mundane conversation until he gets back to the bookstore. 

He stops to say hi to Jax and Leslie, then heads upstairs to his apartment and goes on his laptop to dive deeper into the Wikipedia article, trying to make sense of it. 

_ Unstable relationships.  _

_ Self-harm.  _

_ Detachment from reality.  _

Fuck. Fuck, he hates this, this is…

Well, it makes sense, but it’s… 

_ Detachment from reality. _

That’s the one that sticks for Connor, because Evan keeps thinking he’s imagining Connor. Keeps thinking he’s not real. And after everything that happened with the loops and alternate fucking universes or whatever…

Fuck. 

Did the loops cause this?

Did dying over and over and over again make Evan sick?

Connor spends a couple of hours trying to read up on everything he can, but it just scares him more. Makes him so fucking scared on Evan’s behalf, because this…

10% of people affected die by suicide. 

1 in 10. 

Those aren’t great odds. 

Fuck. Fuck. Fuck. 

It’s not until the next day that Connor remembers he has a sister who has a fucking PhD in psychology. He stops by her work with coffee and a cupcake, just in time for her to be free after finishing up with a client. She smiles brightly at the sight of him and gives him a big hug. 

“Hey,” she says cheerfully. “Is that coffee?”

“Yup,” he says, handing her the cup, and she takes a long sip before doing anything else. “I’m guessing you need it.”

“Oh my god, you have no idea,” she says, gesturing for him to follow her into her office. They both take seats on the comfy beanbags she has in the corner and he hands her the cupcake. She looks at it a little suspiciously. “Coffee and a cupcake?”

“Figured you might like it.”

Zoe raises her eyebrows. “What do you want?”

Connor fakes indignation. “I’m shocked at the suggestion that I have to have an ulterior motive to bring my sister something nice.”

She grins. “No, I’m pretty sure you want something. What is it?”

“What can you tell me about Borderline Personality Disorder?”

Zoe blinks, her grin fading. She furrows her eyebrows for a moment, then something in her expression shifts. Settles into something hard. “Evan got a new diagnosis.”

“Yeah,” Connor says, his tone cautious. “And I don’t… everything I’ve read about it fucking scares me.”

Zoe looks at him. When she speaks, her tone is even. Measured. “Bear in mind that we don’t really diagnose a lot of people under 18 with BPD,” she says. “So it’s not something I have firsthand experience with. But I did study it in college and it’s… it’s one of the tricky ones. It’s…” She sets her shoulders. “So one of the big things with borderline personality disorder is something called splitting? It’s like… all or nothing thinking. Black and white. Basically, not being able to see the middle ground.”

“Okay,” Connor says, frowning a little. “I mean, some people are, like, super stubborn about things, is it… that?”

“Being stubborn is a part of it,” Zoe says diplomatically. “But it’s more like…” She shifts in her seat. “So someone with BPD might have a really close friend who they get along with really well. They might start to idolize that person to the point where they just have, like, super unrealistic expectations of them. So when the friend does something they don’t like, it all comes crashing down and the person with BPD’s perception of them changes totally. Sure, they used to be best friends, but now they’re enemies, because it’s… all or nothing. Either they’re their favorite person in the world or they can’t stand to be anywhere near them.”

“That’s…” Connor trails off. He doesn’t know how the fuck to think about that. “That sounds hard.” 

“It is,” says Zoe with a nod. She bites her lip. “Emotions are a big thing as well? I heard someone once describe people with BPD as… emotional burn victims. They feel things really intensely. Things that might not be as big a deal to someone who’s neurotypical can feel catastrophic, overwhelming. It can be really difficult to manage.” Her eyes are wide. “It’s difficult to manage. Extremely difficult.”

“Fuck,” Connor mutters. He swallows hard. “I read that… self harm is common. That one in ten people die from… from suicide. I…” He blinks, trying not to cry. “I don’t want to lose him. Not again. I…”

“It wasn’t your fault that he left,” Zoe says, almost harshly. “He… he’s incredibly fucked up, Connor. Evan is just… so fucked up, and you…” She sighs. “I know you don’t want to hear this, but you don’t need that bullshit in your life. You… BPD makes sense for him, makes a whole fucking lot of sense, and I get that it’s an illness, that it’s a personality disorder, that it’s not his fault that he’s sick but he’s made some pretty fucked up decisions because of it and he doesn’t deserve a free pass just because someone’s stuck a label on him.” She looks at Connor, her jaw set determinedly. “You could walk away.”

Connor shakes his head. “No.”

“You could,” Zoe says again. “No one would blame you.”

“I can’t.”

“You mean you won’t.”

“No,” Connor tries to explain. “I  _ can’t. _ I just can’t. Okay? I… not having him in my life hurt so fucking much, I felt like someone had ripped out a part of me. I missed him every fucking second. I can’t walk away.”

“You were fine without him,” Zoe tries to argue. “You… the store’s going well, you have friends, you have me. You have a life. Two businesses. A stupidly photogenic and freakishly intelligent cat. You don’t need to hang on to an ex-boyfriend with a personality disorder. You’ve moved on.”

“Not really,” Connor says quietly. “I know he doesn’t love me, but he was my friend first.”

Zoe looks at him. Blinks a few times. Laughs a little. 

“You weren’t friends, Connor. Not… not any kind of normal, healthy friendship. You were… stupidly codependent. He fell apart without you, you fell apart without him, that’s… that’s not healthy.”

“I fell apart,” Connor admits. “But I put myself back together. I did.”

“I’m worried you’ll be right back where you started if you let him fuck you around again.”

“I won’t,” Connor promises. “I… I’m careful now, okay? I know he doesn’t love me. I know we’re friends, just friends, and I want that. I want Evan in my life.”

“Because you’re in love with him.”

“Because he’s the first person to ever understand me.”

Zoe flinches. “Other people understand you,” she says, sounding almost hurt. 

“I know,” Connor says gently. “But not the way Evan does.”


	119. ONE HUNDRED AND EIGHTEEN

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> "I can’t even remember the last time my dad and I were alone together."

Evan’s new therapist Oliver really wanted Evan to talk about his dad. 

Which Evan did not love, honestly. 

But what was worse was that Oliver seemed to think it might be a good idea to talk  _ to  _ his dad. For Evan and Carl to have a joint session. Evan had done a few with his mom when he first arrived and they had been painful, but helpful. 

But now Oliver thought bringing his dad here was a good idea and Evan was absolutely against it. 

“No,” He said, crossing his arms tightly. “Besides, he lives in Colorado. He tried to convince my mom to have me declared mentally incompetent before I came here.”

“It’s possible that was coming from a place of love,” Oliver said, frustratingly reasonable. 

“Or it’s possible that my dad is a piece of shit who checked out of my childhood and has no right to try and butt in now.”

Oliver’s face remained fairly neutral. “It seems like you have a lot of anger toward him.”

“Yeah, what’s your point?”

“Have you ever shared any of it with him?”

Evan felt like a deflated balloon. “Sort of… I mean. I dunno. I’ve been kinda, like, passive-aggressive toward him. Mostly I just… pretend he doesn’t exist.”

“But he does,” Oliver said and there was a slight tilt to his head, a small change in his voice. “And it seems to me like your relationship causes a lot of pain for you.”

“What relationship?” Evan muttered, arms crossed even tighter. “He lives in fucking Denver. We never talk unless I call. I send my fucking half-sister's birthday and Hanukkah gifts every year, and last year he called me to wish me a happy birthday three days late. We don’t have a relationship.” Evan picked at his cuticles. “And we never did.”

“What’s the worst that could happen if you were to ask him to visit you here?”

Evan shrugged, feeling horribly certain he was going to cry. “He might not come.”

“Is that the worst-case scenario?”

Evan picked picked picked at his cuticle. He wanted a fucking cigarette. “Or… he might come and… and just not, like. Care.” He sounded like a petulant child. A sullen teenager or something. Not someone a few weeks shy of thirty. 

“And what if you told him that?”

Evan shook his head. “We don’t even talk, I…”

Oliver’s eyebrows went up. “What if you tried?”

Evan felt as if he had lost control of this quickly. Suddenly, the conversation with Oliver turned into a phone call to his dad and then, far too quickly, there was a flight confirmation and Carl would be showing up the next week to visit, around the same time Evan’s mom was supposed to be in town. They were talking about joint sessions and family therapy and Evan’s head was spinning.

It felt like too much. 

Evan kept telling Oliver it would be too much. 

And Oliver kept asking him to consider at least trying. 

Carl was due to arrive on Thursday night. His mom would get in early on Saturday morning. It was… weird. He couldn’t remember the last time he had done anything with just his parents. 

Connor visited in the early afternoon on Wednesday, between various therapy meetings and group conversations. He had seemed pretty surprised when Evan said Carl was apparently arriving the next day. “He said he might visit Friday afternoon?” Evan said, feeling oddly… hopeful about it. He couldn’t remember the last time he had seen his dad alone. “We’re going to do a session, just the two of us, and then Saturday we’re doing one with my mom.”

Connor nodded. Evan didn’t miss the way his nose wrinkled a little. 

“What?”

“It’s probably stupid but… do you ever feel like it’s weird that I’ve never met him?”

Evan frowned. “I mean. Yeah. Obviously.”

“Just… I mean. I’ve known you for three years…”

“I know,” Evan said quietly, looking down at his lap. “I haven’t seen him… the whole time we’ve known each other, I just… haven’t seen him. It’s weird that he’s never met you because… Because he’s my dad, and you’re the most important person in my life. He should have met you by now.”

“Yeah,” Connor said with a slight frown.

Evan bit his lip for a moment. “Is it stupid that, like, I’m kind of surprised he’s coming?” He took a deep breath and blew it out slowly. “Like he and my mom are both coming. I’m going to do a session with just my dad. I… I can’t even remember the last time my dad and I were alone together, you know? He’s always had Tracy or the girls around. Is it weird that I’m… almost looking forward to it? To seeing him on my own?”

Admitting it made Evan feel so stupid, so hollow. 

Connor bumped his shoulder against Evan’s. “I get it. It’s gotta be, like, weird. But I hope it’ll be good.”

Evan nodded. “Me too.” He wasn’t quite used to… feeling hopeful. 

Friday began like most did. He followed his typical morning routine (wake up, shower, breakfast, group), then met with Dr. Kate like he did every Friday to check in on things like medication and physical symptoms (his first set of meds were making him nauseated so he was trying a different one now), then he had lunch. He was free to do as he pleased until his scheduled three o’clock session with his dad and Oliver. 

But his dad said he would try to arrive early, so Evan grabbed a book and hung out in the lounge. Connor had given Evan this YA novel he really enjoyed that was set in the 1990s, and Evan was actually really enjoying the book. He liked that there was a balance between a love story and a story about friendship. 

After Evan had spent a while reading, one of the staff informed Evan that he had visitors. Plural. 

“What?” Evan said stupidly. 

“Your family is here,” she said, shrugging. 

Evan put his book down and headed toward reception to see Carl and Tracy and the kids all signing into the facility. 

Evan felt like he’d swallowed a rock.

Carl had brought Amelia and Natalie to a psychiatric facility. 

What the hell what the hell what the fuck was the matter with him?

Evan felt his heart start to beat so fucking fast, he felt almost faint, because of course of course of course of course. 

Fucking hell why hadn’t he been  _ specific _ ?

_ Hi please come just you not your replacement family. _

Evan’s dad’s face fell when he turned and saw Evan there, and it took him a beat to correct, put on a huge clownish smile. He was balancing Natalie on his hip. She was his sister and they had never even met. “Evan, buddy! Hey!” Carl said, striding over to Evan and pulling him into a one-armed hug. “How are you feeling?”

Evan hugged him numbly. “I’m okay. How was your flight?”

“Long,” Tracy said, giving Evan a hug of her own. “Nat’s first time on a plane, and she was not a happy camper.”

Evan stared. Natalie wasn’t even two yet. Of course she hadn’t had a good flight. 

This was the first time Evan had met her.

“Amy,” Tracy said to Amelia, sounding a bit patronizing. “Go hug your brother.”

Amelia pulled a face and Evan felt for her. Like, fuck, she was  _ eight _ years old. She was eight she should not be here. She started to walk toward Evan, clearly unhappy about this turn of events, and Evan found himself blurting, “You don’t have to hug me if you don’t want.”

Amelia froze, looking at her mom, clearly conflicted. 

“Go on, honey,” Carl said, sounding frustrated, and Amelia looked back at Evan and raised her arms. She hugged him briefly and weakly and Evan sort of hated his dad and stepmother for telling her to do it. 

Naturally, Natalie started to wail. Tracy scooped her out of Carl’s arms, saying something about a diaper change, and she disappeared off to the bathroom unescorted. 

“Would you like to sit down?” Evan asked Carl stiffly. 

“Yeah,” Carl said with a nod. He put his hand on Amelia’s shoulder and sort of steered her toward the table Evan directed them at. They all sat down in the uncomfortable plastic chairs and then kind of all just looked at each other. 

Fuck why had Evan let Oliver convince him to do this?

Why had he agreed to this why what was the matter with him?

Amelia kept glancing around and Evan wondered what, if anything, Carl and Tracy had told her about where they were. Evan felt a sudden rush of guilt that he was putting this little kid through this. At least Natalie wouldn’t remember this. But Amelia was old enough that in ten years she could be talking to her own therapist about this shitshow. 

Fuck. 

Fuck. 

“How have you been doing?” Carl asked Evan in this transparent and obvious tone. 

“Uh,” Evan said. “I mean… a bit better?” He tried to give his dad a look that indicated he wasn’t going to talk about this at length in front of his much younger sister. 

“Good, good,” Carl said, sounding relieved. “You had us all pretty worried.”

Evan stared at him, a bubble of anger growing inside him. Yeah. Worried. That’s why Carl wanted to take away Evan’s legal ability to make his own medical decisions. Sure. And clearly Tracy was beside herself with fear. 

_ Sure _ . 

“So are you… doing anything else while you’re in the city?” Evan asked. 

Amelia’s face lit up. “We’re going to go see The Lion King on Broadway,” She said, sounding excited. “Everyone at school is really jealous that I’m in New York.”

“That’s really cool,” Evan said, trying to smile at her. 

“Yeah! And my mom says we can go to the Statue of Liberty tomorrow while you and my dad have your meeting or whatever.”

Evan’s eyes slid over to Carl. “That’s today.”

“What?”

“The meeting,” Evan said dully. “We’re supposed to meet at three o’clock. Today. Tomorrow is… us meeting with mom too.”

“Oh,” Evan’s dad said, smiling awkwardly. “Uh. I know.”

“Great,” Evan sighed. Oliver had not mentioned this to Evan, of course. Minor details. He pasted a smile back on his face, and turned back to Amelia. “The Statue of Liberty is cool. I took my mom there on my birthday two years ago.”

Amelia smiled bigger. “I read the poem in my class! ‘Give me your tired, your poor…?’”

Evan smiled back at her. “That’s really awesome.”

“Yeah, we read a story about someone coming through Ellis Island. I wanted to go but…” Her face went a little pink. “Mom says it’s just a museum now and that it’s boring.”

Evan frowned a little. “It’s kind of a cool museum,” Evan said. “They have a database where you can search for family that came through Ellis Island? We found my grandma and her family in it.”

Amelia looked thoughtful. “Mine or yours?”  
Evan didn’t follow. 

“My grandma or…our grandma? Because I thought our grandma was from Michigan.”

Evan smiled at her. “Oh. Mine. Ours… is from Michigan.” He looked at Carl, uncertain, because he genuinely didn’t know where his dad’s side of the family came from. “Right?”

Carl looked awkward. “Yeah, uh. My great grandparents were English?”

“Right,” Amelia said. 

“Yeah,” Evan said, because he realized that he sort of knew that from an old class genealogy project. In retrospect, those projects were really only meant for white students who lived with their biological parents which was pretty stupid. He felt compelled to email Sabrina and ask her take on them… but then he remembered they weren’t speaking and felt worse about himself. 

At that moment, Carl looked down at his phone and grimaced. “Uh, sorry guys, Tracy says that Nat managed to pee on her outfit  _ and  _ her spare in the diaper bag, so I gotta run to the car to grab her something clean to wear.” He gave Evan a patronizing smile. “Be right back.”

He left Amelia at the table alone with Evan. 

What the fuck what the fuck. 

Did he really just leave his eight-year-old with his crazy twenty-nine-year-old? For fuck’s sake. 

Amelia frowned. Looked down at the table. 

Evan found himself wondering if she was used to this. If Carl and Tracy did this a lot, left her alone places while they dealt with the baby. 

“Is this a nursing home?” Amelia said after a moment, looking at Evan quizzically. “It kind of looks like a nursing home but you’re not old.”

Evan tried to keep his face neutral. “It’s not a nursing home. It’s -”

“Is this rehab?” Amelia asked then. “Sandy at school’s mom went to rehab. She does a lot of heroin.”

For fuck’s sake.

Evan wrinkled his nose. “It’s kind of like that? But I’m not… It’s not for drugs. I’m not… I don’t do drugs.”

“What’s it for?”

Evan hesitated, trying to think of an age-appropriate answer. “I’ve been really sick. I’m here to get better.”

Amelia frowned a little. “Are you contagious?”

Evan smiled. “No. I’m not.”

“Is it cancer?” She asked. “Mom was afraid she had breast cancer but she didn’t. It was just like… a huge pimple or something.”

“I don’t have cancer,” Evan said. “It’s uh. My brain? My brain is… sick.”

Amelia nodded. Glanced around awkwardly. 

Evan spotted that she was eyeing up the shelf full of board games and the like that were available for residents to check out. “Do you want to play something?” Evan asked her. 

“Sure,” She said, shrugging. 

“Want to pick out what we play?”

“Okay.”

She got up and examined the shelf. Evan watched the door, looked over at the various staff members who were milling around. He… he had no history of violence against kids and no desire at all to hurt Amelia, but it really really bothered him that nobody else, nobody  _ sane _ , was keeping an eye on her, making sure she was safe. She was eight and a half. She was way too young to be here. Some of the other residents had kids come and visit but most of those were supervised, either by a partner or a social worker or a staff member. Evan didn’t like that he was just here alone with her. He worried she could get hurt. That he would do irreversible damage to her. And there were other people here who were a different kind of sick, who projected their violence outward, who could harm her hurt her snap her small eight-year-old self in half…

“Is this okay?” Amelia asked, setting a game of Connect Four on the table. 

“Perfect,” Evan said. 


	120. ONE HUNDRED AND NINETEEN

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> “It’s kind of weird. That you’re my brother, but you’re, like, way older than me.”

They set the game up together in silence. Amelia played the red pieces; Evan played black. She started, sinking a red checker into one of the corners. 

They took a few quiet turns. Evan blocked her first attempt at a row, then she cut off his column, and he wondered if he was supposed to let her win because she was young. A kid. Little, small, and fragile. 

“Dad says you’re a lawyer?”

Evan swallowed. “Yeah.” Technically, he still had a license to practice law. He hadn’t been disbarred or anything.

“Do you like it?”

“Most of the time,” Evan said. 

“Is it like on tv?”

He shook his head. “Not really. There’s a lot more paperwork.”

She frowned and nodded, sinking a third checker into a diagonal line. 

Evan didn’t block her. He still wasn’t sure about the politics of playing games with children. Did he let her win? Did he purposefully try to beat her? 

“Dad says you have to be really smart to be a lawyer,” She went on. “He said you got all As in high school and stuff.”

“I did,” Evan said. “I think you just have to be good at writing and talking to be a lawyer. I dunno.”

Amelia’s cheeks were pink. “He says I’m smart like you,” She said, then sunk her last checker to connect her four in a row. She frowned, looking sort of thoughtful, her small face screwed up, her nose wrinkling a little. “You kind of suck at this.”

Evan laughed a little. “I’m rusty. Nobody has wanted to play me in a long time.” Evan did not know what the fuck he was meant to do with the information that his dad talked to Amy about him. That he told her Evan was smart. That they were both smart. That they were alike. 

Evan wasn’t sure Carl had any fucking right to say if they were alike because he didn’t know Evan. He hadn’t been around when Evan was Amelia’s age, and his memories of before Carl left didn’t feature a lot of Carl helping with schoolwork. It was always Evan and his mom at the kitchen table. 

“I’m not allowed to play Monopoly at school anymore,” Amelia said after a moment. “Last time I hid all of the get out of jail free cards because in real life you _can’t_ get out of jail for free.”

Evan grinned at her. “Yeah. You can’t.”

“So I can’t play anymore.” She reset the game and let Evan go first this time. He sunk his checker into a slot in the middle. 

“That’s too bad,” Evan said. 

“Nobody wants to play Clue with me either,” She said. “I always figured it out super early in the game...”

Evan tried to give her an understanding smile. “Me too.”

She shrugged. “I don’t really like any of the kids in my class anyway,” She said. “So I’m not missing out really. I’m more friends with the fourth graders. I take math with them.”

Evan smiled, sensing this was something they might be able to talk about. “Do you like school?”

Amelia nodded. “Yeah. It’s cool. I like my teachers. I get good grades.” She sunk a checker on top of his. “I get bored a lot.” 

Evan could relate. 

“And like, whenever I do have homework, dad is no help.” She rolled her eyes, her expression somewhere between anger and pride. “He doesn’t get math. Or history.”

Evan nodded. 

“Do you like history?”

Evan shrugged. “Yeah, I guess. A lot of what you learn in law school is legal history. Like, supreme court cases and stuff.”

Amelia smiled. “I wanted to go as Ruth Bader Ginsburg for Halloween. I did a current events project on her for school.”

“You did?” Evan said, smiling. 

“Yeah,” Amy answered, her smile waning. “Mom said nobody would ‘get it’ if I dressed up as her, so I went as a witch instead.” 

“I’m sorry,” Evan said. 

“I even put, like, all of the stuff I’d need in mom’s amazon cart. Like a gavel and a robe and whatever.”

“That sucks,” Evan said. “I would have gotten it.”

“Yeah?” 

“Yeah. RBG is awesome.” 

Amelia smiled and started another game. Evan could tell she was watching him, and he tried appear… benign. Uninteresting. Nonthreatening. 

But he found himself watching her back. It was strange to see pieces of himself arranged on her face. They had practically the same nose. Same sandy hair. When Amelia was really concentrating, her brow furrowed and she frowned… Something Evan had grown to be self conscious about after Sabrina told him once that he looked angry when he was thinking. 

It was hard to think of her as his sister. She felt more like… a distant cousin. A niece from an estranged or long lost sibling. Not someone he shared a father with. 

Apparently, she was thinking along the same lines because Amy opened her mouth and said, “It’s kind of weird. That you’re my brother, but you’re, like, way older than me.”

“Yeah,” Evan said. 

“And you’re even older than the baby,” She went on. “How old were you when she was born?”

Evan tried to smile. “Twenty-eight.”

Amelia shook her head. “That’s so weird.”

“Yeah, I know.”

“How old was dad when you were born?”

“Nineteen,” Evan said heavily. 

“How old was dad when I was born?” Amelia asked. “Like forty?”

Evan nodded. 

“That’s weird.” She frowned. She sunk another checker into place, four in a row. 

“You win,” Evan said, and somehow that felt like… a weird thing to say to her. Like he wasn’t talking about this game of Connect Four. Like, she’d won their dad. Or something. Evan was being weird. 

“They do this,” Amelia said after a few minutes, quietly setting up for another game. “We go somewhere and the baby cries and he and mom run off and leave me.”

“Oh,” Evan said. 

He guessed he had assumed that they were just… a perfect happy family before today. Seeing the cracks in that facade didn’t really bring a lot of comfort. 

“I know it’s kind of mean,” Amelia said. “But sometimes I wish they didn’t have another baby. They’re always so busy now and I always have to be quiet and…” She shook her head. “Do you really live in New York?”

“I do,” Evan said. 

“Isn’t it scary?”

“Sometimes.” Evan shrugged. He played another checker.

“Do you go see plays and stuff a lot?”

“Not really,” Evan admitted. “But I have… My friend Connor and I see them sometimes.”

“Anything good?”

“I saw a show once where a clock tap danced and rapped about time?”

Amelia wrinkled her nose. “That sounds really weird.”

“It was.”

She played another checker, hesitating a little this time. “I thought Connor was your boyfriend, not your friend.”

Evan felt like he had taken a bullet. He took a shaky breath. “He was my boyfriend. Now we’re just friends.”

“How come?”

Evan sunk a fourth black checker in place, beating Amelia. “Because I messed up.”

“Oh.” Amelia looked thoughtful. “Do you still love him?”

Evan’s heart squeezed painfully. “I do. A lot. But I messed everything up.”

Amy wrinkled her nose at him. “You’re… that’s dumb. Just say you’re sorry. Maybe then he’ll be your boyfriend again.”

Evan swallowed hard, the words cutting deep considering they were coming from a little kid. 

Carl reappeared with Natalie at that moment, Tracy trailing behind him looking like she had been crying. “How have you kids been doing?” Carl asked, settling Natalie on his lap. 

“We played Connect Four,” Amelia said with a smile. “I won twice.”

Carl looked at her and grinned, holding up his hand for a high five. Amelia enthusiastically slapped it. “Nice job, bud.” Carl gave Evan a sort of tentative glance. “Ames is sort of a genius.”

“Sounds like it,” Evan said quietly, a strange kind of anger building up inside him again. “She said she takes fourth grade math.”

“And reading too,” Tracy added with a big proud smile that clashed horribly with her red eyes and nose. “Amelia, why didn’t you tell your brother about that?”

Something about the way Tracy kept calling Evan’s Amelia’s brother sat strangely with him. 

“You said before it was bragging,” She muttered, looking annoyed. 

“You can brag about cool stuff with me,” Evan said, trying to smile through the tension he was feeling. “I think it’s cool that you’re in fourth grade math and reading.”

Amelia went pink and mumbled a quick thank you. 

“Carl,” Tracy said in this same sort of weirdly sweet voice. “Did you ask Evan if he wanted to hold Natalie? She’s all settled now.”

“Oh I -” Carl started, at the same moment Evan said, “Maybe I shouldn’t-”

“Nonsense, come on, you should hold her,” Tracy said. “She’s your baby sister.”

Evan swallowed hard. 

Carl stood up and passed the now settled kid into his arms. She was heavier than he expected, more solid, and was babbling playfully as Evan settled her onto his lap. 

He didn’t miss the way everyone focused on the clear plastic patient ID wrapped around his bony wrist when he reached out to take her. The ID bracelet had a barcode and his identity written clearly on it. 

**EVAN H. HANSEN**

**DOB: 04/13/1992**

**SEX:M**

**INPATIENT**

Evan adjusted slightly, tugging his sleeve down to cover it. Natalie giggled a little, pointing, and saying, “Dog.”

Evan followed her finger to see that one of the therapy dogs was roaming around. The dog’s name was Waffles, though all of the residents jokingly referred to him as either “Doctor Waffles” or “Waffles McBurney, PhD.” He was a rough collie who looked a bit like Lassie and was very friendly with kids. And adults. And a stuffed teddy bear he liked to carry around. 

“Yes, sweetheart, that is a dog,” Tracy said with a smile. She looked at Evan uneasily. “You can bring dogs in here?”

Evan stared. “You can bring toddlers?” He returned. 

She looked embarrassed. Evan couldn’t deny being satisfied with that.

Evan fought back his frustration. “Dr. Waffles is a therapy dog. He’s here to… help people, like. Socialize and deal with anxiety and whatever.”

“Dogs make her nervous,” Carl said by way of explanation. 

“Dr. Waffles is trained to interact with people,” Evan said, feeling moderately defensive of the dog in this mental hospital. “He’s very friendly.”

“Right,” Tracy said, still clearly apprehensive. 

“Dog!” Natalie cried, giggling and pointing. She looked up at Evan. “Doggie?”

He nodded. “Yeah that’s a doggie.”

She pointed again. “Doggie.”

“She wants to pet the dog,” Amelia said sounding kind of tired. She looked at her parents. “Can she, mom?”

“Oh, I dunno…”

“Dad? Please?” Amelia asked, pleading almost. “Otherwise she’s gonna start to cry.”

“Go!” Natalie giggled. “Go dog!” 

“Fine,” Tracy said, her nose going pinker. “Just. Stay where I can see you.”

“Come on,” Amelia said to Evan, pulling at his sleeve. He got to his feet carefully, shifting Natalie’s weight to rest on his skinny hip and they headed over to say hi to Waffles. Waffles and Evan were on pretty friendly terms, he would say, though Evan only ever saw him twice in a week. Evan kept joking with Connor that he should get to the center an hour earlier on Saturdays to see the dog. Dr. Waffles trotted up to them when they approached, letting Evan pet his head and Amelia pet his back. Evan gingerly set Natalie down on her feet, kneeling down so he was closer to her height, and she kind of smacked Dr. Waffles on the snout. 

“Hey,” Evan said, taking her hand away carefully and gently. “Gentle.”

“Doggie!” Natalie said again, then she babbled some nonsense that Evan didn’t follow. Natalie gave Evan her little pudgy hand and Evan showed her how to more gently pet Waffles’s head and neck. 

“See? Nice. Gentle.” 

“Nice!” Natalie petted the dog happily, and Dr. Waffles snuffled a little at her head before giving her forehead a lick. 

Natalie’s eyes went huge and for a second it looked as if she was trying to decide if she should cry. 

“Kisses!” Amelia chimed in. “Look, Nat, the puppy gave you kisses.”

That made Natalie smile. “Kiss!” She said, and then pressed her open, drooly mouth to the dog’s face in return.

Thank goodness Dr. Waffles was a professional, Evan thought. He didn’t even seem to mind the toddler’s mouth on his face. 

After a few minutes, Natalie apparently grew bored with the dog. She looked at Evan and raised her arms, saying, “Up.” Evan frowned a little, but picked her up. Natalie pointed again, this time to Tracy. “Mama!” Then she pressed her drooly mouth against Evan’s shoulder and gurgled, “Kiss!”

Evan carried Nat back toward her mom, Amelia not far behind. He thought the baby was… objectively cute. Sweet. But it didn’t change the fact that he thought it was inappropriate that she was here. 

“Look how cute,” Tracy cooed once they returned to the table, turning her phone around to show Evan her facebook page. 

She’d snapped several photos of the three of them petting Dr. Waffles. And posted them. 

Evan felt something in his stomach totally drop. 

She hadn’t tagged the name of the facility at least but still. He could see that she had tagged the photo as “with Evan Hansen & Carl Balls-Geller.”

“Can you please take that down?” Evan asked, his voice ragged. He was still holding the baby. Tracy hadn’t taken her back. 

“Why, not a good angle? You look fine,” She said, thoughtlessly. 

“Mama, kiss!” Natalie said with a giggle, chewing a little on the shoulder of Evan’s hoodie. 

“No, I… I don’t want pictures of me in here online,” Evan said, his voice hoarse, quiet. 

“Oh nobody will be able to tell -”

“I don’t want pictures of me in here on the internet,” Evan said again, his heart pounding too hard. “I need you to take that down.”

“It just looks like you’re -”

“No,” Evan said, his voice lower, more firm. “Tracy I need you to take those down.”

She looked over at Carl, like she expected him to back her up, but Carl was picking at the edge of his nail, not paying attention. 

“Tracy,” Evan repeated, feeling blood pounding in his ears. “Please take that photo down.” 

“I think you’re being silly,” She said, sounding offended. “It’s just a picture.”

“I -”

Carl finally seemed to tune back in. “Trace, come on. Take it down. He doesn’t want it on Facebook.”

“Fine,” She said, her tone short. She hit a few buttons on her phone and then held her arms out to Evan to take Natalie. “We should be going anyway so you and Evan can do your therapy thing.” She stood up with the baby, frowning. “Come on Amy, let’s go get our coats. Daddy will meet us back at the hotel in a few hours.” She stopped. “Say bye-bye, Natalie.” 

Natalie looked over the left of Evan’s shoulder and ignored her mother. 

Tracy frowned. “Amelia, say goodbye to your brother.”

Amelia looked very irritated with her mom. “Bye,” She said, and then after a second, threw her arms around his middle in a very brief but tight hug. “I hope you feel better soon,” Amy said before she scampered off after Tracy and the baby. 

Evan looked over at his dad helplessly. “I’m sorry I just don’t want photos of me in here out there in the world.”

Carl shrugged. “I guess… I dunno Tracy feels left out that you didn’t invite her to therapy or whatever.”

Evan opened and closed his mouth a few times, unable to form words. 

“I mean, she’s been your stepmom since you were like fifteen.”

“Fourteen,” Evan murmured quietly. “I was fourteen when you got married.”

“Well, you know what I meant.”

Evan frowned slightly. “I mean. It’s not like she and I… I wasn’t even at the wedding.”

Carl frowned. “We got married in Vegas. What would a fourteen year old have done in Vegas?”

Evan rubbed his forehead. “That’s not… the point.” He sighed. “Whatever.”

“Look, bud, I just think it’s hard on her. She doesn’t, like, know what to do.”

Obviously Carl didn’t either. 

Obviously not because he wanted to have Evan declared incapable of making his own medical decisions, because he had turned “hey dad come visit me in the fucking assylum so we can work out our issues” into a family activity for his young kids. 

“How’s your mom handling all of this?” Carl asked. 

Evan shrugged. “She flew out here to help me figure stuff out as soon as I called her so. I dunno. I think she’s sort of freaked out, I guess?”

“And you were staying with your ex before you came here right? Connor?”

Evan nodded. 

“You two a couple again or…?”

“We’re just friends,” Evan said, feeling utterly drained. “Now.”

“And he’s… not sick anymore?” Carl asked him. 

“He’s better now, yeah,” Evan said with a shrug. “I… they still don’t really know what happened to make him so sick, but he’s been doing a lot better now. Which is good.”

“Right.” 

“I… you never met him,” Evan said suddenly. 

Carl looked sheepish. “We invited you to visit. Both of you.” 

Evan couldn’t deny that. “Yeah.”

Silence fell, thick and uncomfortable, like a heavy but scratchy blanket.

“You working while you’re in here?” Carl asked, like he was desperate to fill the dead air between them. 

Evan rolled his eyes. “Yeah, they let me out in the afternoons to go to court.” Carl looked surprised and Evan realized that the man hadn’t picked up that he was kidding. “I’m not even allowed to have fucking shoelaces. Of course I’m not working,” Evan said. 

His dad opened his mouth to respond but Evan spotted Oliver heading toward them. He was wearing his usual friendly smile and greeted Evan with a wave. “You must be Carl,” he said, extended a hand. “So nice to meet you.”

“Uh. You too.”

“Shall we?” Oliver said, still smiling. 

Evan sucked in a deep breath. “Sure.”


	121. ONE HUNDRED AND TWENTY

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> “What, is this the thing where you, I dunno, tell me all the stuff I messed up when you were a kid?”

Oliver led them down a hallway to one of the many private therapy spaces. He stopped and switched on a white noise machine. Oliver settled in an armchair and invited Evan and Carl to sit on a sofa across from him. 

Evan felt breathless and strange sitting beside his father. 

“So,” Oliver said, sitting back in his chair, smiling. “Where should we start?”

Evan could feel Carl’s eyes on him. 

“Evan?” Oliver prompted, smiling. 

Evan did not want to start, he didn’t even know where to start. 

Carl laughed a little, awkwardly. “What, is this the thing where you, I dunno, tell me all the stuff I messed up when you were a kid?”

It fell very flat. 

Because everyone in the room knew it was true. 

Evan stared at the floor. 

“Maybe your childhood isn’t a bad place to start,” Oliver said to Evan. “Carl, why don’t you share one of your best memories of Evan as a child?”

Silence fell. 

“Oh,” Evan’s dad said, clearing his throat. “Oh. Uh. Alright. Uh.” He laughed a little. “Well there was, um. When he was…” Carl trailed off, and Evan watched him shift his position from the corner of his eye. “When you were, like, maybe six? You wanted us all to uh. To start a band? The Hansen Family Band.” Carl laughed again, breathless. “My last name’s not Hansen, though, um, Evan’s mom wanted him to have hers -”

Evan frowned. Said nothing. 

“And he’d, uh, bang this old xylophone he’d gotten -”

“Evan?” Oliver said. “You reacted to Carl mentioning your last name.”

Evan sighed. He looked up slightly from the carpet to see Oliver nodding at him encouragingly. He blinked hard. “My last name is Hansen because you, like, flaked out on me being born.” 

The words hung in the air uncomfortably. 

“You left to go get drunk with your buddies like…right after I was born,” Evan said quietly. “And you made her drive herself to the hospital. That’s why I have her name.”

Carl let out another breathy, awkward laugh. “I was sort of a wreck,” He said, talking to Oliver. “I was just so nervous. I didn’t know what I was supposed to be doing. And. You know. I was nineteen, I was an idiot.”

“Mom was nineteen too,” Evan said before Oliver could respond. 

“Yeah, but I mean,  _ she  _ was pregnant she…” His dad trailed off. “You’re right. I wasn’t really there.” 

Evan bit his lip hard. It wasn’t enough, it wasn’t enough it wasn’t enough. Him acknowledging that he had been absent… was nothing. It meant nothing. 

“Evan?” Oliver prompted again. 

“Were you there when Amelia was born?” Evan said softly, looking up at him. “Or Natalie?”

Carl’s face was pink, his cheeks rosy. He had lines on his forehead, around his eyes. “I was.”

“I…” Evan sighed. “You brought them today. And Tracy. I just… I asked for you and you brought your whole family. Turned this into, like, a family trip to New York.”

“Look, Evan, buddy, come on… The girls are young still I couldn’t just leave them home alone.”

Evan sunk back, his arms crossed across his chest. 

Oliver tapped his pen against his lips. 

“You could have come without them,” Evan mumbled, not looking at him. “Without Tracy.”

“I… I mean. I thought… since they’re we’re family you might…”

“Are you?” Evan said, and he realized that he was, like, genuinely asking. 

“Yeah. Nat and Amy are your sisters. I’m your...” Carl frowned. “I didn’t really come all

this way for you to, like, tell me I was a crappy father. I know that I wasn’t there for you. I know.”

Evan rolled his eyes. “But… do you care?” He asked. 

“Of course I care,” Carl said, sounding offended. “And I was… You know, I was there for the important stuff. Your bar mitzvah, your graduation -”

Oliver looked down at his notes, frowning. 

“Well, alright, I missed the law school graduation,” Carl said backtracking. “But you understood. I mean. Amelia had the chicken pox.”

“Right,” Evan said hollowly, trying to swallow a lump in his throat. “I know.”

“Evan,” Oliver said quietly. “I think this is a space where you can try to be more honest about your feelings.”

Evan felt like he was a little kid in trouble, not an adult trying to figure out how to have a relationship with his father. He felt stupid and small and embarrassed by how stupid and small he felt. He picked at the seam of his jeans, horrified to realize that he was blinking back tears. “I… that hurt. I thought that maybe, I dunno, you were. Like. Proud of me or whatever. And then you just… bailed. Last minute too. Mom had to sit by herself at the ceremony.” 

Carl opened his mouth to respond but then snapped it shut, clearly thinking better of whatever he was going to say. 

Oliver seemed to notice and he pounced. “Carl, it looked like you had something you wanted to say.”

“No, I’m fine.”

Oliver sighed. “The point of this isn’t to sit here and politely discuss the history of your relationship. We’re trying to get to the root of some of the pain that has been troubling Evan for a long time. He is fighting very hard to get better, and politeness is not going to fix a personality disorder. For this to be productive, you need to be open and honest with yourself and with Evan.” He clicked his pen shut. “So. Let’s cut the bullshit, okay? Carl, do you want to help your son?”

Evan couldn’t help it. He looked over at his dad. 

“I’m here aren’t I?” He said weakly. He frowned. “But I… I don’t know how me, like, saying how _ I _ felt is going to help matters. This is… this is for Evan, he’s the one who...”

“...Is crazy,” Evan supplied for him. 

“No, I didn’t say that,” Carl protested. “I never said that -”

“You clearly think it,” Evan said bitterly. “You tried to have me declared incompetent!” 

“To protect you!” Carl said heatedly. “You… Buddy, you tried to kill yourself, I got scared you weren’t in your right mind I-”

“If you knew anything about me at all, you’d know that this wasn’t the first time I’ve tried to kill myself.”

“Let’s back up,” Oliver said, looking thoughtful. “That was a lot to unpack. Carl, I want you to go back and tell us what you held yourself back from saying a moment ago. About why you didn’t go to Evan’s graduation.” 

“Because… Amelia was sick.”

“And?” Oliver prompted. 

“...And it felt like. Like he didn’t want me there.” 

Evan swallowed hard. Looked over Oliver’s shoulder, out the window. He started to count the cars in the parking lot. 

He knew Oliver was waiting for him to respond. 

But he didn’t know how to explain. 

That his dad hadn’t wanted  _ him _ . That Evan had always known that, ever since he was a kid. That he knew he was an inconvenience to Carl. And Carl hadn’t exactly tried to reach out to Evan. He hadn’t been the one who kept their relationship going. Evan had to be the one to call, or text, or email. He had been the one who organized trips to Colorado to see his dad, he was the one who… gritted his teeth and dealt with it when his dad forgot about his birthday or announced to extended family members that Evan was majoring in “biology” at a visit home over New Years when he was twenty two, even though he was majoring in English and Environmental Science. 

“Like… I dunno. It always feels like he’s… embarrassed of me,” Carl said. 

Evan laughed a little. “Yeah. I fucking am.”

Carl looked at him, his eyes narrowed, angry. 

“Do you have any clue how embarrassing it is to bring your dad around when it’s obvious he doesn’t give a shit about you?” Evan said. “At my college graduation you told me in front of everyone that I’d never make it as a lawyer because I was too nervous to talk to my own family. I had just gotten into law school and you made fun of me… And you didn’t even consider that I was nervous talking to you because I don’t fucking  _ know  _ you.”

“Look I know I wasn’t really around but… When you got older it just got… I know that you don’t really have any interest in seeing me or your sisters and. It felt pretty stupid to keep trying.”

“But when were you trying?” Evan asked, feeling stupidly like he might cry. “I was seven when you left. Was I supposed to do all of the work then too?”

“I tried-“

“When?” Evan demanded. “Because honestly I don’t remember.” 

Carl let out a breath. 

“It always felt like you didn’t want me,” Evan said. “And you never really tried to get to know me and… It  _ hurt _ .”

* * *

Connor gets a Lyft to the airport on Saturday morning early enough that it’s still dark out. He arrives just as Heidi’s plane is landing, so takes the opportunity to pick up two coffees from Starbucks and a couple of those cinnamon buns. 

He knows that Heidi’s not a great flier, so hopefully coffee and something to eat will help at least a little. 

He gets to the gate about a minute before Heidi walks through, a duffel bag over her shoulder, hair tied up in a messy ponytail, looking tired and drained. When she sees him, she smiles, this big genuine smile that reaches her eyes, and it reminds Connor of Evan in a way that makes his heart hurt. 

The moment they’re in range of each other, Heidi pulls Connor into a tight hug, then kisses him on the cheek. “You didn’t have to meet me at the airport, sweetheart,” she says. “I could have just taken a Lyft to your apartment. It’s early.”

“Evan was disappointed he couldn’t meet you himself,” Connor says, handing Heidi a coffee. “And I figured you could maybe use a friendly face and some caffeine.”

“Thank you so much,” says Heidi, immediately taking a sip of coffee. She sighs happily. “Just what I needed. I’m exhausted. I barely slept last night.”

“Early flights are like that,” Connor agrees. He hands Heidi the bag with the cinnamon rolls then takes her duffel bag, despite her protests. “You can shower back at my place before you head to the center if you want.”

“That would be great,” says Heidi. She rubs her face, her smile fading a little, and Connor can see the reality of the situation hitting her. 

It’s not fair, Connor thinks, a tight feeling in his chest. It’s not fair Evan’s so sick. 

After a brief discussion, they agree to split a cab, despite Connor being more than happy to just order a Lyft and pay for it himself. They both sit in the backseat. The cab driver is quiet and doesn’t try to make conversation, which is probably just as well because Heidi looks exhausted and actually dozes off on the ride back to the bookstore. 

When they get back to the store, Connor once again carries Heidi’s bag up the stairs, much to her annoyance. They sit at the table and finish their coffees and cinnamon buns. Edgar jumps onto Heidi’s lap and Heidi immediately starts petting him, her whole face lighting up. 

“Looks like someone’s pleased to see you,” Connor teases with a grin. 

Heidi smiles widely. “Edgar’s perfect.”

“He loves you,” Connor continues, watching them with a smile. “And Evan. I think he really misses Evan. I’ve got half a mind to try to sneak him into the center for a visit.”

Heidi smiles this sad smile. “It’s a sweet thought, but I don’t know how Evan would feel about it,” she says gently. “I think it would remind him of last summer too much.”

It takes Connor a moment to put that together, but when he does, he feels this awful clenching in his stomach. Remembers people telling him how Alex helped the bookstore kids sneak Edgar into the ICU when he was in a coma. 

“Edgar can be patient,” Connor says after a moment. “Wait until Evan’s home. If he still wants to see us, that is.”

Heidi has this look on her face Connor can’t quite figure out. “I’m sure he will,” she says quietly. 

When they’re done with their coffee and cinnamon buns, Connor gives Heidi a towel and she has a shower. He opens up his laptop and starts working on an edit for Leatherbird, hoping it’ll distract him from his racing thoughts. 

Nate’s been texting pictures all week of the sets he’s been helping build for the spring musical. He keeps apologizing for being so busy they haven’t managed to catch up, and Connor feels bad that he’s kind of relieved because it gets him out of having to explain the whole ‘my ex’s mom is staying with me again’ thing. 

He’s not sure how that conversation would go. Or how Heidi would feel if she found out that Connor has a… something. 

A boyfriend? A… gentleman caller?

Connor doesn’t fucking know. 

And yeah, it’s not like Connor’s doing anything wrong, it’s not like he’s cheating on Evan or anything because they’re not together, Evan’s made it very clear that he doesn’t want Connor, it’s just… 

He’d rather Heidi not find out about Nate. 

He’d really rather Evan not find out about Nate. 

“I’m off to the treatment center,” says Heidi with a smile. “Thanks again for letting me stay. I really appreciate it. 

“No problem,” Connor says, smiling back. “Say hi to Evan for me, okay?” 

Heidi nods, gives him a hug then heads out. Connor watches her go for a moment. 

Connor hopes that Evan seeing his dad went well, but there’s a part of him that’s kind of skeptical. The guy seems flakier than a pastry and Evan had seemed so hopeful when they’d talked about it. Connor doesn’t want to see Evan disappointed, for his dad to let him down again. 

Connor remembers how bad things were between him and his dad before he got sick, how toxic and awful they were, and hopes that somehow, Evan and Carl can get to something approaching a healthy relationship. 

God knows it’s helped Connor to know his dad is genuinely in his corner these past months.

He never thought he’d have that, and it’s been… genuinely great. 

On a whim, he pulls out his phone and dials his dad’s number. Larry answers on the second ring. 

“Connor?”

“Hi Dad,” Connor says, a little awkwardly.

“Is everything okay?”

“I’m okay,” Connor assures him. “I just… wanted to check in. How are you doing?”

“I’m good,” his dad says, something kind of fond in his voice. “It’s been a busy couple of days, but it’s set to slow down. A little, at least.” He pauses. “Cynthia said Heidi was in the city for the weekend to see Evan and was staying with you. How’s that going?”

“Good,” Connor says. “Evan’s dad is in town, so they’re all… talking some stuff out. I… I hope it’ll be good.”

Larry hmms thoughtfully. “I hope so, too. How’s Evan doing?”

“Better,” Connor says truthfully. “He’s working really hard.”

Connor can hear the smile in his dad’s voice. “Not surprising. He’s a hard worker.”

There’s a pause. Connor squares his shoulders. 

“Hey dad?”

“Hmm?”

“Just… thank you,” Connor says quietly. “For everything. For helping Evan with the costs for his treatment, for being so… for being there. I really appreciate it.”

There’s another pause. When Larry finally responds, his voice is a little rough. 

“Of course. I… thank you for letting me be there.”

There’s so much more Connor could say, but he doesn’t have the words. 

He’s not grateful for getting so fucking sick last year, not by any stretch, but at least something good came out of it. 


	122. ONE HUNDRED AND TWENTY ONE

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> "You’ve been working really hard. You should be proud of your progress so far."

The session with Evan’s dad left him exhausted. Absolutely exhausted. He ended up getting special permission to skip dinner and go to sleep, but Evan wasn’t even sure it helped when he woke up the next morning. 

And now he had to do it all again with his mom too. 

Fuck. 

Evan just wanted to… skip it. He was so fucking tired. 

But he got up when he was supposed to. Ate breakfast. Took the meds he was supposed to take. 

He met Oliver briefly on his way into the lounge to meet his parents. Oliver gave him a sympathetic smile. “How are you doing?” He asked Evan. 

Evan shrugged. “I’m not… I’m not sure? I’m just… tired.”

Oliver nodded. “You’re doing really well.”

Evan frowned at him. “You have to tell me that. I mean, if you said ‘wow Evan you suck at therapy,’ I feel like you’d kind of suck at your job.”

Oliver gave him a laugh. “I mean yeah. I would. But genuinely. You’ve been working really hard. You should be proud of your progress so far. You’ve only been here a short time and you dove right into a lot of really hard shit. You haven’t shied away or backed down from challenges. So trust me when I say you’re doing really well.”

Evan tried to smile at him. 

“I’ll see you shortly,” Oliver said, clapping Evan on the shoulder. 

Evan nodded. Went back to waiting for his parents, vaguely hoping that Carl would at least leave the kids with Tracy today. Not that it was their fault, but honestly seeing them yesterday had thrown Evan a lot. 

His mom arrived first, and Evan felt his heart swoop at the sight of her tired smile. He hurried to his feet, rushing toward her and hugging her tightly, struck again but how strange it felt to be so much taller than she was. “Hi mama,” Evan said, still holding on. 

“Hi baby,” She said, kissing him on the cheek. She held him out at arm’s length, assessing him. “You’re looking a lot better. How are you feeling?”

Evan tried to smile. “I’m pretty tired, but. I think better?” 

“Good,” She said. His mom squeezed the tops of his arms. 

“How was your flight in?” Evan asked her. 

She smiled, shrugging. “Fine. Connor picked me up at the airport.” 

Evan smiled at that. Evan had mentioned feeling bad that he couldn’t pick up his mom at the airport. Of course he had picked her up. Connor was so… so fucking good. So wonderful. “He’s… great.” 

“He is,” Heidi said. “He still coming to see you a lot?”

Evan nodded. “Twice a week most weeks. It’s… it’s really great to see him.” 

His mom gave him a knowing smile. She finally let him go. “How was it yesterday?” 

Evan sighed. “He brought Amy and Natalie. And Tracy tried to put a photo on facebook?”

His mom’s eyes narrowed. “For fuck’s sake.” She ran a hand through her hair. “He brought the kids?”

Evan sighed. “I mean. It was okay seeing them,” He mumbled, suddenly feeling as if he had gotten his father into trouble. A strangely familiar feeling, Evan realized, one that had been rattling around in the back of his memory. 

His mom didn’t look impressed. “He shouldn’t have done that without asking you first.”

“I guess. Yeah.”

His mom hugged him again. “I’m sorry baby.” 

He shrugged. “I guess I… shouldn’t be surprised when he disappoints me anymore.”

Almost as if on cue, Evan’s dad appeared in the lounge a moment later. He was wearing his same old beat up leather jacket over a flannel and a frown. “Hey,” He said when he approached. 

“Hey Carl,” Evan’s mom said, her tone noticeably cooler than it usually was when Evan saw them interact. They hugged, but it wasn’t the warm greeting Evan was used to seeing from them. It felt cordial, not friendly. Evan was normally irritated by how friendly his parents were after the divorce. He remembered vividly bitching about it to Sabrina over sneaked cigarettes the day of their college graduation. 

Evan wondered if they had argued recently. 

Evan’s dad turned to Evan and then paused with his arms ever so slightly raised. Evan realized Carl meant to give him a hug but something had stopped him in his tracks. 

Evan realized too late what it was. His sleeve had crept up when Evan had hugged his mom, and his forearm was totally on display. 

Carl’s shoulders settled. He didn’t hug Evan. Evan felt a rush of shame. “We uh. Ready to do this thing?”

Evan’s mom frowned at him. “You brought the kids yesterday Carl? Seriously?”

“Guys,” Evan mumbled, embarrassed, looking around at the other clients milling about with their families, his face getting warm. 

“I thought it might be, y’know, nice for Evan to see his sisters,” His dad said, shoving his hands into his pockets. 

“He’s never even met Natalie before!” His mom hissed. 

“Guys,” Evan pleaded again, a little louder this time. “Save it for therapy, please.”

Evan’s dad’s mouth snapped shut and he scratched his eyebrow awkwardly. He cleared his throat. “When did you get in?” He said to Evan’s mom stiffly. 

“This morning,” She said, her voice equally stilted. 

“You get a cab from the airport?” Carl asked. “We ended up renting a car but I know you don’t like driving in cities...” 

“Connor picked me up, actually,” Evan’s mom said, shrugging. “So we split the cab.”

Evan watched his dad’s face twitch at that but before he could investigate further, Oliver had reappeared in the lounge. “Hi folks,” He said, smiling broadly. “Shall we?”

Evan’s stomach dropped and he felt filled with dread. But he pushed through. “Yeah, let’s do it.”

Inside the same comfortable office they had sat in yesterday, things were immediately tense. Carl had his arms crossed over his chest and Evan’s mom kept shooting him these looks, clearly worried as Evan tried to resist the urge to pick at his cuticles. He had pushed down a lot of his memories of being a little kid while his parents were fighting, and now it was like they had all been violently yanked to the surface. 

“Where do we want to start?” Oliver asked them. 

Carl shrugged. Evan’s mom sighed. Evan picked at his cuticle, bit his lip… and then spoke up. “I. Um. I guess. I’m kind of feeling, like…” He stopped. Oliver kept calling him out on couching his feelings in “kind of”s and “sort of”s. He tried again. “I feel kind of frustrated and angry about yesterday.” 

Evan’s mom smiled a little at him. 

Carl wouldn’t meet his eyes. “I…” Evan cleared his throat and addressed his father. “I asked you to come and you brought your other kids with you, without even asking me if I would be alright with that. Like. I’m… I’m in a mental health facility. Obviously I’m not in the greatest of places right now, and I… basically babysat Amelia for half an hour yesterday while you and Tracy dealt with Natalie and that… She’s fine, I’m not upset about that, just. I like Amelia. She’s a good kid. That’s not…” Evan stopped. Took a breath. Tried again. “I feel like you always prioritize them. Tracy and Amelia and Natalie. Which, like. You should. They’re your wife and kids. But… but you never prioritized me or mom like that and it. Pisses me off.”

Carl opened his mouth then shut it again. 

Oliver leaned forward a little. “Heidi?”

Evan’s mom was chewing her lip. She frowned. “I… guess I would. Y’know. I’d agree with that? Like. Carl, I’m really proud of you for, you know, stepping up the way that you have with your girls. I think that’s great that you are so involved with them and that you’re happy, but… We. I. Evan and I were never like that for you.” 

“Like what?” Oliver asked. 

“Important,” Evan’s mom said heavily. 

Carl looked pissed to say the least. “That’s not true,” he said, his voice almost shaking. “It’s not. I just… Look, honestly, Heidi, you and I… We didn’t work together. We didn’t have, like, the same priorities.” 

Evan’s mom’s face fell. 

Evan watched his dad’s face carefully when something he had genuinely never considered dawned on him. “You… you didn’t want a kid when I was born?”

Evan’s dad looked alarmed, “Oh my god, no, Evan that’s… that’s not what I’m saying at all.” 

“He wanted to get married right away,” Evan’s mom said. “I… I was the one who wasn’t sure.” She frowned. “I was afraid if we got married, that… I was afraid that Carl wouldn’t take it seriously. Wouldn’t take us seriously, as a family.” 

“And were you right?” Oliver asked. 

Evan’s mom looked uncomfortable. 

Carl looked pissed. Evan could see a muscle in his jaw twitching. “It… It didn’t seem to really matter how seriously I took stuff, because… With both of you it was always like no matter what I did, it wasn’t good enough. If I show up, I do it wrong. If I don’t show up, I fucked up then too. It’s… there’s no winning with you two.”

Evan rolled his eyes. “You left. I don’t think you get, like, points for doing the bare minimum sometimes.”

Oliver nodded, making a note on his clipboard. “Carl?” He said. “How do you react to that?”

“I don’t think it’s fair to say I did the bare minimum.”

Evan’s mom rolled her eyes. “I’d agree. Most of the time you did less.”

Evan stared, gobsmacked. She never really said that sort of stuff. Maybe once in a while, when money was tight and he was late with the child support. The rare “I’m sorry honey but we’re going to have to hold off on buying you new sneakers or else mom’s going to be short on the mortgage because your dad’s check was late” comment to Evan when he got a little older. But never ever to his face. 

“So the two of you divorced when Evan was seven?” Oliver asked. 

They all nodded. 

“Evan, what do you remember about that time?”

Evan sighed. “I…” He thought back, trying to remember being a kid. Being little, knowing his parents were splitting. He remembered them arguing all of the time. A lot of it about stuff Evan recalled thinking was grown-up stuff at the time. Bills and how Carl got let go from his job and bummed around for a week before he even started looking for a new one. They argued about Evan needing speech therapy, about Evan’s teachers worrying about his “shyness,” about how Evan didn’t seem to have a lot of friends at school. About a bowling birthday party in first grade which his dad called a waste of money. 

He remembered his mom kicking his dad out a few times, and Evan’s dad always promising he would be back to Evan. How suddenly those promises stopped. And he started to leave on his own. How by the time he moved out “temporarily,” Evan knew he wasn’t coming back. 

“You guys fought. A lot,” Evan said quietly. He shrugged. “I mean, original, huh? My parents fought a lot and got divorced.”

“What would you fight about?” Oliver asked Heidi and Carl. 

Carl sighed. “Money. Childcare. The fact that I wasn’t, like, a model parent because I… drank and smoked a bit. And then we really got into it once he started school. Evan’s teacher wanted him to go to speech therapy and wanted him to see a shrink because he was too shy to talk to the other kids, and I thought it was…” Carl seemed to realize where he was. What he was saying. “At the time, it didn’t seem like it was necessary.”

“Speech therapy?” Oliver asked, looking at Evan. 

“Oh. You know. Because of my, uh. My stutter?” He shrugged. “It got better.”

“Because of therapy,” His mom muttered, her voice awfully bitter. 

Carl crossed his arms tightly over his chest. “Look, obviously I was wrong. You’re right, okay? Is that what you want to hear, Heidi? You were right about all of it, the therapy and the drugs you put him on when he was thirteen even though I thought he was too young, and you were right about this summer and how bad things got when his boyfriend was sick. You’re always right and I’m just the idiot standing around not knowing what to do. Happy?”

Evan shook his head. “What do you mean she was right about this summer?” 

Carl looked caught, sending a pleading glance toward Evan’s mom. She wouldn’t meet Evan’s eye, not right away. 

“Mama?” He prompted softly. 

“When Connor got really sick,” She said. “When we thought that he wasn’t going to make it, I… I was so worried about you sweetheart. You were obviously in just. So much pain. You. You weren’t yourself. You were drinking all of the time, and you told Sabrina you wanted to... And I hated seeing you suffer and I. I was scared we would lose you.” 

Evan nodded because well… he knew that. 

His mom looked him in the eye. “I was scared you would try to hurt yourself,” She said plainly. “And I… panicked. I called your dad, totally freaking out, and started talking about how I wanted to bring you home with me.” She shook her head. “I… It wasn’t right. I was talking about you like you were a child I could just, you know. Scoop up and take home and make it all better.” 

Evan nodded, the feeling of dread building inside of him again. “So… wait, help me understand I… I don’t follow.”

“I realized I was being stupid. That… that wasn’t right. I knew it wasn’t right to try to make decisions for you,” She said. “And I backed off right away.” 

“And I still don’t know if that was the best idea,” Carl said. “I mean. Look where we are now. Look at what Connor almost dying did to him.”

Evan blinked a few times, ignoring his father. He addressed his mom directly. “I don’t… I don’t understand. You backed off of what?” 

She started to cry.

Carl sighed. “Your mom and I talked about seeing if we could find a legal way to make medical decisions on your behalf, since you weren’t doing well. We thought about… about having you committed for your own safety.”

“And I immediately realized how stupid and wrong that was,” His mom said. “So we obviously didn’t continue talking about it. Because I know how strong you are baby, and I knew that wouldn’t actually help you in the long run. I just… for a minute I panicked. And I am so sorry.” 

Evan stared. “You guys… you guys thought I was crazy. Back over the summer.” Hie voice came out dull, flat. He supposed he wasn’t even surprised. Just… hurt. That he had been so obvious. That he hadn’t kept it together. Even his fucking mom. Of course of course of course. He was so stupid. 

“No,” Evan’s mom said firmly. “I just worried that if you lost Connor… Baby I just couldn’t stand the thought of losing you. I got scared that if Connor died, you wouldn’t be okay and you’d refuse help. And I said some stupid things because I was scared. I mean, I was watching Cynthia get ready to lose her son… I know I fucked up even considering the idea for a second, but, yes. For just a second, just for a moment I thought maybe you couldn’t be trusted to keep yourself safe -”

“If we had done it over the summer, maybe we wouldn’t be here now,” Carl said, looking… Freaked out. “I. Look. I know I’m not, like, parent of the year or whatever, but don’t act like I don’t care. I care.” He looked directly at Evan. “I just want you safe. Safe and healthy.” 

Evan swallowed painfully. “If that’s true,” he said. “Then why aren’t you ever around?” 

Evan’s mom had started to cry, ducking her head. 

“You left us. You left me and… I still don’t understand why. And… If you want me safe and healthy so badly, don’t you, like… Want to see that for yourself?”

Oliver leaned back in his chair, watching. 

Carl looked sad. He stared down at the floor, scratching his eyebrow. “I don’t know what you want me to say.”

“I want you to explain why you left,” Evan said, his voice stronger than he expected. “I want to know why you didn’t want us. Why you just… abandoned us and now you think you can, like, waltz in and be involved in my life.”

“I’m not doing that!” Carl barked, eyes flashing. “You invited me to come!” 

“Because I want to know why,” Evan said, his voice breaking. “Because I… I am terrified all of the time that every single person I love is going to quit on me. Because that’s what you did to me. You… you left and put that in my head. So I want to know why. Why did you leave us?”

Carl looked almost like he might cry. “I don’t… I don’t have a reason that is going to make you satisfied. I left because I was… I was really unhappy. I wasn’t prepared to be a father when you were little. I don’t mean it as an excuse,” He added hastily, “But I know that now. At nineteen, I wasn’t mature enough. I made a lot of mistakes. And at the time it… it started to feel like  _ I _ was the problem, you know? You were having a hard time at school even though you were smart as a whip because you weren’t making friends and, fuck, you were just  _ so shy _ . You wouldn’t talk to anybody. And I was the one always fighting with your mom, I was the one… I was fucking up all of the time it felt like. And you stopped talking to me too, mostly, you’d only talk to your mom and…” 

Carl shook his head, cleared his throat, “God, I’ll never forget once when you were in kindergarten? I blew a tire on my way to pick you up and when I got there, you were just sitting on the playground by yourself. Like. You were just sitting on a swing, looking around, waiting for somebody to notice and nobody did. I lost it on your teacher when I dropped you off the next day because they let a five-year-old go unsupervised, and I was so pissed but… It was my fault, you know? This was before cell phones were really big, I couldn’t call and you were just. Left there. All by yourself. I was the reason you were sitting there by yourself. I mean, you were  _ fine _ , you weren’t hurt or scared, you just played on the swings but  _ I  _ fucked up. You deserved better, someone who didn’t just fuck up no matter what. I thought things would get better for you once I was out of the picture. I got it in my head that I was the problem.” 

Evan hated how… familiar that felt. He hated how he heard himself in some of that. 

“I don’t remember that,” Evan said honestly. He didn’t really have a lot of memories of his dad being around once he was in school. He didn’t have a lot of memories of his dad at all. He was just a guy in the background of photographs. “Why were you picking me up? I normally took the bus home.”

Carl’s face shifted slightly. “Oh. Uh. We were going to the park? You know, the big state park, just out of town? Ellison? Me and you, we. Sometimes on Fridays we would go on hikes after school. I was working in this office where we had half days every other Friday? So I’d pick you up from kindergarten and we would go on hikes. Well… I mean. They were basically just walks, but you were little, and you liked to look at the trees, and we came home covered in mud enough…” He shrugged. 

Evan wracked his brain, trying to remember. He could conjure the image of his dad, face much younger, grinning at Evan from a wooded trail, but then it all blurred. Smeared. He wasn’t sure if it was real or just details he was piecing together. 

And instead he could only recall throwing up after his dad took him on a carnival ride. He could only remember his dad, drunk and arguing with Grandma Norah, at Evan’s bar mitzvah. He could only remember the way his feet didn’t reach the pedals in a Uhaul truck in his driveway when he put his hands on the steering wheel. 

“Heidi, you’ve been pretty quiet,” Oliver said softly. 

Evan looked at his mom, wiping her face. “I… I always tried to be honest with you, about what happened between Carl and I. But I never wanted to be one of those bitter women who talked shit about their ex in front of their kid, you know? I wanted you to have a chance to form your own opinions.” She shook her head. “But maybe I was too honest with you. You…” His mom looked up at Oliver. “I’ve been reading the material you sent me. Everything says that fear of abandonment is… is a part of Evan’s diagnosis.” She blinked a few times. “Maybe if I hadn’t been so honest… If I hadn’t put so much emphasis on Carl leaving us… If I had tried to be around more...”

Evan handed his mom a tissue. She was looking at Carl, something unreadable on her face. 

“No,” Carl said, looking at Evan’s mom. “That’s not. I wasn’t around, okay? You telling him I wasn’t…. Wasn’t going to come back isn’t… I fucked up. I could have made more of an effort. I could have,” He said, looking Evan dead in the eyes. “And I am so sorry that I didn’t, okay? I was an idiot, and now you’re an adult and… I can’t undo it. So. Yeah. I fucked up.”

Evan didn’t know what to say. He looked between his parents sort of helplessly. 

“How do you feel about that, Evan?” Oliver asked him.

He frowned, staring at his cuticles, picking at them idly. “It was hard,” He said. “It… was really lonely. Not being to rely on either of you when I was growing up. And… I think I just learned. Not to talk about it… How I was feeling? Even when I knew I had to,” Evan said. “But. I mean. I guess… I’m not really interested in, like, whose fault it is that I’m sort of a mess now? Like. Ultimately I’m… I’m nearly thirty. A lot of it is my fault too. And I might have had a kind of shitty childhood, but I’d prefer not to have a shitty adult life too. And I…” He looked at his parents. Sad and tired looking. In their late forties now, their age only just starting to show. “I would like it if… if it felt a little less like I was always alone?” He shrugged. “I mean, dad, I… I’m always the one who calls you. And, mom, I know you just want to help but… sometimes when I’m not doing well, it feels like you expect me to just. Like. Snap out of it. Just suddenly be different. You know? I just. I need to know that. I have support. That I’m not in this alone. If that… makes sense. I dunno. Just… sometimes with you two, I just. I feel like I have to be the one to ask?”

Oliver nodded. “Say more about that.”

Evan sucked in a deep breath. “Like, I know I need to get better about asking for help  when I need it. I know that’s a thing I struggle with. But also… You guys don’t always ask?” He shrugged. “At least, I dunno. With Connor, because he knows all of my shit, he’ll just… check in. See if I’m having a good day or a bad day or whatever?” 

Evan’s mom nodded, looking so fucking sad. “I’m sorry baby. I just… Part of me worries sometimes that if I ask, you’ll get upset with me? Think that I don’t trust you to tell me on your own.”

Evan almost laughed. “I mean. I  _ don’t _ trust me to tell you on my own,” He said. “I… I mean I’m working on it, but my default is always to gloss over the bad shit.” 

His mom nodded. 

“And, honestly, dad, we talk so infrequently that I don’t ever feel safe enough to bring this kind of shit up with you,” Evan said, feeling emboldened by the way Oliver was nodding at you. “And I’m not saying, like, I’m perfect and call often. I don’t. And I don’t and I’ve stopped mostly in the last year but… You never call me. So it feels like when I call you, I’m just an inconvenience.”


	123. ONE HUNDRED AND TWENTY-TWO

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> “You’re kind of dumb for a smart person.”

Connor’s working on some admin upstairs when Leslie shows up at his apartment, her expression a little bewildered. “Hey Connor. There’s someone here who wants to talk to you.”

“Who is it?”

Leslie shrugs, still clearly confused. “I have no idea. He said his name is Carl, he showed up with a woman and two kids. He didn’t really say what he wanted, just that he wanted to talk to you.”

It takes Connor a moment to figure it out but when he does, he’s definitely more confused than Leslie. “I, uh, I think that’s… Evan’s dad.”

Leslie’s eyes widen. “Shit, really?”

Connor shakes his head a little helplessly. “I mean, it sounds right? I just have no fucking clue what he’d want from me. It’s not like Evan’s my…”

He trails off. Leslie’s whole expression softens. She puts her hand on Connor’s shoulder. 

“Want me to tell him to fuck off?”

Connor considers. “No,” he says after a moment. “I’ll talk to him.”

He heads downstairs, Edgar following him the whole way. When they get to the store floor, Edgar takes the opportunity to climb up Connor’s body and settle on his shoulder. 

Which is, like, probably a weird way to meet his ex-boyfriend’s dad, but… 

Well, having Edgar there makes him feel a little more prepared. 

The guy standing by the counter next to a woman holding a toddler looks surprisingly like Evan, which erases any doubt in Connor’s mind that this Carl guy who wants to talk to him is indeed his ex’s dad. There’s a kid looking through a book display with interest with sandy blonde hair who can’t be any more than eight or nine years old. 

Connor feels this weird static in his mind as it dawns upon him that he’s seen these people before. 

He saw Evan’s dad, step-mom and sister at Evan’s funeral in the reality where Evan jumped off the roof on Connor’s 27th birthday. 

Before Connor got stuck in that reality, before he ended up in a coma after his appendix burst, he’d been bouncing between realities, a ghost, only half-there, and he’d seen Evan’s funeral. Seen this man, this woman, and a younger version of Evan’s younger sister. 

Amelia, he thinks her name is. 

And the toddler is… Natalie? 

He’s completely blanking on the step-mom’s name, though. She’s looking at her phone, her face tight and irritated, completely ignoring the toddler who’s wiggling and clearly trying to escape. 

Amelia is the first one to notice him. She looks at him with these big eyes, clearly assessing him. Her eyes widen when she sees Edgar on his shoulder. 

She’s got freckles all across her nose. A nose that looks a lot like Evan’s. 

Then Carl seems to realize Connor’s there. He tenses his shoulders a little. He’s in jeans and a beat-up leather jacket, a far cry from the suit he was wearing at Evan’s funeral that never happened. His hair is longer than Evan wears his but it’s the same shade and wavy. 

He looks tired and drained and older than he probably is. 

“Hi,” says Connor. “You wanted to talk to me?”

Carl nods. Shoves his hands in his pockets. “Yeah. You’re Connor, right?”

“Yeah,” says Connor, a little irritated because honestly, who the fuck else would he be? “And you’re Carl.”

Carl takes a hand out of his pocket. Goes to shake Connor’s hand, in this weird, hesitant way like handshakes aren’t really his go-to. 

“This is my wife Tracy,” he says, gesturing to the woman beside him. “Natalie, our youngest. And Amy here is seven.”

“I’m eight,” says the girl, sounding a little irritated. “I’m almost eight and a half.”

“Right,” says Carl, kind of absently. He’s looking at Connor, assessing him with his eyes in a way that’s not dissimilar to what Amy did earlier, just… different, somehow. “Is there somewhere we can talk?”

“We have a staff breakroom,” Connor says. He looks at Tracy. “And there’s a reading nook near the back of the store that has plenty of kids’ books. Toys as well. 

Edgar jumps off down off Connor’s shoulder. Natalie reaches out chubby little baby hands and makes a noise of delight. 

“Kitty!”

“That’s right, honey, it’s a kitty!” says Tracy, looking at the cat with a smile. “Oh, he’s so beautiful.”

“Mrow,” says Edgar, trotting up to Amy, who immediately reaches down and pets him. 

“His name’s Edgar Allan Paw,” Connor explains, and Amy lets out this little laugh. 

“That’s a long name for a cat.”

“There’s a famous writer called Edgar Allan Poe,” Connor continues, crouching down a bit so he’s not towering over this kid. “So it’s like a play on words.”

Amy’s eyes light up. “I get it,” she says, sounding delighted. “That’s funny.” 

“There’s a shelf of books you can read without having to buy them,” Connor says, pointing Amy in the direction of the sunshine spot. “We’ve got some cool ones in there you might like, and there are cushions. Edgar likes to nap there sometimes, so I bet he’ll come with you.”

“Okay,” says Amy happily. Tracy looks a little less sure, but nods and follows Amy across the store with Natalie. 

Edgar, as predicted, follows close behind Amy. Connor can’t help but smile as he watches them go. 

Edgar really likes kids, Connor’s noticed. It’s been a slow day, so he’s probably pleased for the company. 

Connor leads Carl into the staff room and they both take a seat at the table.

“Do you want a cup of coffee or something?” Connor offers. 

Carl shakes his head. “No, thank you.” He looks at Connor for a long moment. Lets out a short laugh. “I didn’t think you’d be so tall.”

Connor blinks. “Uh, okay.” 

Carl doesn’t say anything. Connor has no idea why he has to be the one to start the conversation, but it’s better than sitting here in silence. 

“Heidi says you’re here to visit Evan?”

Carl nods. “Yeah.” He frowns a little. “She’s staying with you, right?”

“Yeah,” Connor says with a nod. “She’s, uh, she’s with Evan right now.”

Carl nods again. Something in his face twists. “Right. Okay.” He bites his lip, kind of slumps his shoulders, then looks at Connor again. “Heidi said you saved Evan’s life. That you talked him off the roof, you…”

Connor doesn’t know how to respond to that. If he’s supposed to agree, or disagree, or…

“It’s complicated,” he goes with instead. 

Carl lets out this humorless laugh. “What does that mean?”

“It means I don’t like saying that I saved him,” Connor tries to explain. “Evan’s strong. He’s been through a lot, he… he’s strong. He’s unwell, but he’s working hard. To save himself.”

“Yeah, but you were the one who got him down,” Carl says immediately. “Heidi said that you-”

“I just want to help,” Connor interrupts. “He’s my friend.”

“You broke up.”

“Doesn’t mean I stopped caring about him,” Connor says immediately. 

Carl frowns. Opens his mouth, then closes it. Folds his arms and leans back on his chair. 

Connor just watches him for a moment. 

Fuck, he really does look like Evan. An older version of Evan, if Evan were really into grunge. 

Connor has to admit, his jacket is pretty cool. 

“How was it yesterday?” Connor asks. “Therapy was… okay?”

Carl kind of shrugs. “I mean, yeah, it was…” He shrugs again. “I don’t really know much about therapy, so…” 

“It can be hard,” Connor says, trying to be sympathetic but not sure if he’s really managing it. He doesn’t know this guy, doesn’t get this guy. 

They’ve never met before today. 

Evan is Connor’s best friend, the love of his life, the most important person and Connor’s never met his dad. 

That’s… weird. 

“Are you doing some sight-seeing?” Connor asks, changing course. “It must be exciting for Amy to be in New York.”

Carl actually smiles at this. “Yeah, she’s loving it. We saw The Lion King on Broadway last night. It was great.” His smile wanes a little. “What we saw of it. Nat kind of lost the plot in the second act, so Tracy and I had to take her outside. But Amy really liked it.”

Connor opens his mouth, about to ask this guy if he’d seriously left his eight-year-old alone in a theatre to watch a Broadway show, then decides it’s probably best to just keep his mouth shut.

Carl clears his throat. Shuffles a little in his seat. He looks uncomfortable, and Connor’s pretty sure it’s not the chair. 

“The store is nice,” he says, nodding a little. “Heidi said that Evan did all the legal stuff when you bought it.”

“Yeah,” Connor says, and it’s his turn to actually smile. “He did an amazing job, I couldn’t have done it without him.”

“Tracy saw a Buzzfeed article,” Carl continues. “That’s good publicity.”

“Yeah,” Connor agrees. “One of my employees is in charge of social media and she does a really good job.”

Carl nods. “That’s cool.”

They sit there in awkward silence for what feels like forever. 

“Look,” says Carl finally. “Heidi says you’re a good guy. And I’m so glad you were there that night, that you got him off that roof, it’s just…”

Carl frowns again. Looks at Connor, sets his jaw in determination. 

“I don’t know if you’re a safe person for Evan to be around right now.”

Something cold and tight takes hold of Connor’s chest. “Excuse me?”

“You nearly died last year,” Carl says, his voice shaking ever so slightly, “and the doctors don’t know why. If he relies on you too much and you get sick again-”

“That’s not going to happen.”

Carl blinks. Looks angry. “You don’t know that.”

“I had my appendix removed,” Connor points out. “You can only do that once. It’s not going to happen again. 

“But they don’t know why you were in a coma,” Carl says, sounding frustrated. “And you nearly died and that’s what started all of this.” He lets out this shuddery sigh. “Heidi called me after your sister made the call to turn off your life support. She was terrified, completely terrified that we were going to lose Evan. Because of you.”

Connor feels like this guy has just punched him in the face. “I… I didn’t-”

“Heidi seems to think that when you got sick, that’s when things got bad for Evan,” Carl says, and he’s gaining momentum as he continues. “She says you’re a good guy, that you care about him. I’m sure you do but… you’re not his boyfriend anymore and from where I’m standing, you being in his life hasn’t done him any favors.”

Connor can feel himself getting angrier as the conversation continues. “That’s not fair-”

“I don’t care about being fair to you,” Carl interrupts. “I care about my son.”

“Do you?” Connor shoots back, despite himself. “Because I’ve known him for three years and I could count on one hand the number of times the two of you have spoken. And every single fucking time he’s been the one who’s had to reach out.” Carl’s nostrils flare. He opens his mouth to speak, but Connor’s not finished. “Saying that I shouldn’t be around Evan because I could drop dead at any minute is bullshit coming from someone who can’t even remember to call on his birthday, Jesus fucking Christ.”

“That’s none of your fucking business-”

“Do you even remember when his birthday is?” Connor challenges.

“It’s in two weeks,” Carl shoots back. 

“It’s  _ next _ Thursday.”

“I didn’t come here to fight with you,” Carl says, eyes blazing with anger. 

It’s familiar, somehow. 

He looks even more like Evan when he’s angry. 

“No, you came here to tell me to stay away from your kid,” Connor counters, crossing his arms. 

“I’m trying to protect him.”

“From me?” 

“From getting hurt again.”

“And I should do that by walking out on him?” Connor shoots back. “Like you did?”

Carl actually physically recoils at that. He looks genuinely guilty, genuinely hurt, emotions flitting across his face. It’s strange, seeing a face that looks so familiar be so openly showing emotion, not guarded and careful like Evan. 

Connor almost feels bad for him. 

Almost. 

“I’m not going anywhere,” Connor says firmly. “I’m not leaving. As long as he wants me around, I will be there for him. He’s my best friend and I lo-”

He manages to cut himself off in the middle of the word but from the way Carl’s eyes widen, Connor has a sneaking suspicion that Carl knows what he meant. 

“I’m not going anywhere,” Connor says again a moment later. “So you’re just going to have to fucking deal with that.”

There’s a short knock, then Leslie pops her head into the staffroom. “Hi,” she says, a little awkwardly. “Carl, your wife asked me to get you. She needs some help with your little one.”

Carl looks at Connor, frowns a little, then stands up. “Yeah, okay,” he says, shoving his hands in his pockets. Connor follows him out of the staffroom and onto the store floor. They head to the sunshine spot, where Nat is crying and Tracy is unsuccessfully trying to get her to calm down. 

Amy, it seems, is pointedly ignoring her sister, curled up on a beanbag with Edgar on her lap, reading a copy of  _ A Wrinkle in Time. _

The kid has good taste. 

Tracy looks at Carl, obviously stressed. “I need you to get a change of clothes for Nat from the car.”

Carl frowns. “They’re not in her bag?”

“Obviously not,” Tracy snaps. She looks at Connor. “Do you have a changing room?”

“No,” Connor says, wondering if this is something he should be thinking about. He makes a snap decision. “You can use the spare room in my apartment. I live upstairs.”

“Fine,” says Tracy, sounding slightly annoyed. She fixes Carl with a look and he sighs and heads toward the door. She shifts Nat onto her hip, then looks down at Amy, who is engrossed in her book. “We’re going upstairs, Amy. Put the book down.”

“You can bring it with you if you want,” Connor says immediately. 

Tracy looks at Connor, frowns a little, then back to Amy. “Fine.”

Connor leads the three of them up the stairs. Edgar follows them and climbs up onto Connor’s shoulder once they’re in the apartment. Amy looks on with interest. 

“You can use the bathroom,” Connor says, showing Tracy the door. “There’s plenty of space. Do you need anything? Like, a towel or whatever?”

“I have a changing mat,” says Tracy, sounding ever so slightly more relaxed. She looks at Amy. “You stay out here with Connor, okay?”

“Sure,” says Amy, who’s looking around the apartment, taking it all in with wide eyes. She looks delighted, for some reason. When Tracy and Nat disappear into the bathroom, she looks up at Connor with a small smile. “You really live here? On top of a bookstore?”

“Yeah,” Connor says, sitting down at the kitchen table so he’s not towering over this eight-year-old. 

“That’s so cool.”

“I like it,” Connor agrees, smiling at her. “Makes it easy to get to work.”

Amy takes a seat across from Connor. She shuffles so she’s sitting in the chair properly, her legs swinging over the edge of the seat. 

Her hair is the exact same color as Evan’s is in that photo from Connor’s tenth birthday. Connor’s not sure where that photo ended up. It used to live on the fridge but Zoe did a purge after Evan left, and…

Well, he’s probably not getting it back. 

There’s a copy of that photo in the book Evan made for Connor for Valentine’s Day the year before, he remembers suddenly. The book that Connor hid under his mattress so Zoe wouldn’t find it, wouldn’t throw it out like everything else. 

“Did you like The Lion King?” Connor asks Amy, not wanting to think about it. 

Amy nods. “It’s so cool.” She tilts her head. “Evan said that you guys saw a show where a clock was tap-dancing?”

“Yeah, we did.”

“That’s really weird.”

“I don’t disagree.”

Amy smiles for a moment, then her face falls. She looks at her lap. “Evan’s gonna be okay, right?”

“Yes,” Connor says firmly. “He’s gonna be okay.”

Amy looks at Connor, frowning, her brow furrowed in a way that’s so similar to Evan that it hurts Connor’s heart. “I like Evan,” she says after a moment. “Evan always sends me good presents for my birthday and Hanukkah. He sent me a really cool book for my birthday last year. I read it five times.”

Connor actually smiles properly at that. “Yeah? I helped him pick that one out. I’m glad you liked it.”

Amy looks thoughtful. “I guess you’re a book expert, if you own a bookstore.”

“Maybe not an expert,” Connor admits, “because there are an awful lot of books in the world. But I’m pretty good.” He thinks back. “That book is the first in a series,” he continues. “I think I have the second one downstairs if you’re interested.”

Amy’s eyes light up. “Really?”

“Yeah,” Connor says with a nod. “Shall we go check?”

Amy looks at the bathroom door, then back to Connor. “Okay.”

They head downstairs. It doesn’t take long for Connor to locate the book. He pulls it off the shelf, then hands it to Amy, who looks completely delighted. She reads the back of the book in wonder, then turns it around in her little hands. 

Her face falls a bit when she sees the price sticker. “I don’t have enough money,” she says, her voice small. “Mom and Dad gave me some money for the trip for souvenirs and I had some leftover from my birthday and Christmas and Hanukkah but I spent most of it.”

“Did you get anything cool?” Connor asks. 

Amy smiles a little. “I got a stuffed toy Simba.” Her smile drops. “Nat chewed on his ear, though, so he’s kind of gross now.”

“Well, how much money do you have left?” Connor asks.

“Three dollars fifty.”

“Good thing you get the friends and family discount, then, huh?” Connor smiles at her. “With the friends and family discount, that’s exactly the right amount.”

Amy looks skeptical. “How much is the discount? What’s the percentage?”

Connor looks at the price tag and frantically tries to do math in his head to work it out, but blanks immediately. “It varies,” he says after a moment. 

Amy looks up at him and her lips curl into a small smile. “If you’re sure.”

“I’m sure.”

“Okay.”

They head to the counter, and Connor rings up the purchase. Puts the book into a branded tote bag. Amy looks like she’s about to argue, but doesn’t. She just smiles and takes the bag, looking into it with this awed expression. 

Connor likes this kid. 

Carl comes through the front door then and Connor leads him and Amy upstairs again. Carl mumbles something that might be a thank you, then disappears into the bathroom. 

Moments later, Connor can hear arguing. 

Amy lets out this little sigh. She looks at Connor. 

“They’ve been arguing a lot,” she says forlornly. “Ever since we got to New York. They might be a while.”

“Do you want a glass of milk?” Connor asks, not really knowing what else to say. “I have Oreos.”

Amy nods. “Okay.”

They end up settling on the couch in the living room, both armed with a glass of milk, a tray of Oreos between them. Connor usually scrapes out the frosting, but today he just eats his Oreos like a normal human being rather than “massacring” them, like Evan always used to say. 

“Hey Connor?”

Connor looks at Amy. “Hmm?”

Amy frowns. Looks hesitant. “What’s wrong with Evan?”

It’s like being punched in the chest. 

Connor has no idea how he’s supposed to deal with this. 

“What have your parents told you?” he asks first.

Amy sighs. Twists open an oreo. “Nothing,” she says flatly. “They said we were going to visit Evan in New York, then when we saw him, he was in this place that’s like a nursing home. I asked him about it and he said that it wasn’t a nursing home and it wasn’t rehab but it was kind of like rehab. My friend’s mom went to rehab for heroin so I thought it might be like that but Evan said he doesn’t do heroin and also that he doesn’t have cancer. So I’ve been trying to figure it out and I asked Dad and he just told me not to worry about it.” Amy rolls her eyes. “You can’t just tell someone not to worry about something. That’s dumb. It’s not how worrying works.”

“That’s true,” Connor agrees. “It’s not how worrying works.” He sighs. “Look, I don’t know if I’m the best person to talk to you about this. It’s… really complicated.”

Amy scowls. “I’m not stupid. I understand things.”

“I don’t think you’re stupid,” Connor assures her. “I just know that this is complicated, even for adults, and it’s not really my place to tell you.”

“Adults make things more complicated than they really are sometimes.”

“You’re not wrong.”

Amy looks at him. “He’s going to be okay, though,” she says, her voice wobbling a little. “Right?”

“Yeah,” Connor says with a nod. “Your brother is really strong. He’s going to be okay.”

Amy keeps looking at him, this unrelenting look that makes Connor feel like he’s being x-rayed. After a moment, she speaks again. “Why aren’t you Evan’s boyfriend anymore?”

Connor’s chest squeezes uncomfortably. “He doesn’t want me to be.”

Amy frowns. “My friend Emma’s dad cheated on her mom and they got divorced. Emma says that her mom says that her dad is an asshole and that it’s all his fault.” She takes another oreo and continues. “But my friend Senna’s sister Hayley had a girlfriend and they always argued all the time and when  _ they _ broke up, Hayley said it was no one’s fault but it has to be  _ someone’s _ fault.” She shrugs. “Evan said he messed up, but he’s really smart, so I don’t think he did.” She looks at Connor. “Are you the asshole?”

Connor shrugs. “I’m kind of an asshole sometimes. Maybe.”

“Do you still love Evan?”

“Yeah,” Connor admits, his voice quiet. “A lot. But I don’t think he loves me anymore. And that’s okay. I still want to be his friend.”

Amy tilts her head. “How do you know he doesn’t love you anymore?”

Connor thinks back to the night before his birthday, to talking Evan off the roof. 

_ “I don’t want you.” _

“I know,” Connor says quietly. “I just know.”

Amy looks at him for a long moment. Finally, she wrinkles her nose. 

“You’re kind of dumb for a smart person.” 


	124. ONE HUNDRED AND TWENTY-THREE

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> "You don’t deserve to go through the rest of your life afraid of what might happen to you."

Connor’s distracted the rest of the day. Carl and Tracy had made a hasty exit with the girls pretty much the moment after they left the bathroom, to Amy’s obvious displeasure. Carl hadn’t looked Connor in the eye as they were leaving. Hadn’t reiterated his point about thinking that Connor should stay away from Evan, hadn’t said anything. Just… left the whole conversation unfinished, incomplete, hanging awkwardly in the air. 

A little before seven, Heidi shows up with a bag full of chinese food. She looks tired and drained and Connor’s heart goes out to her and Evan. 

It had to have been an emotional weekend for the both of them. 

“How’s Evan doing?” Connor asks as he gets plates and cutlery.

Heidi smiles slightly. “He’s okay,” she says. “It’s been hard. There’s… a lot to talk about, and it’s hard work, but he’s strong.”

“He is,” Connor agrees. “Strongest person I know.”

Heidi’s smile softens, something sad in her eyes. “He’s missed you this weekend. He says you usually visit on Saturdays.”

“I didn’t want to get in the way,” Connor says, feeling a little awkward. “You needed some time with him.” 

Connor serves himself up some sweet and sour chicken. His next words slip out, completely unintentionally. 

“Heidi, I just want you to know what I’m so fucking sorry. If I hadn’t gotten so sick, then maybe things wouldn’t be so bad for Evan right now.”

Heidi’s shaking her head before Connor even finishes speaking. “Connor, honey, it’s not your fault.”

“You can’t deny that me getting sick-”

“No,” interrupts Heidi, her voice firm. “This is not your fault.”

“Carl thinks I shouldn’t be around Evan,” Connor blurts out. Heidi stares at him, eyes wide. 

“What?”

“He visited earlier,” Connor explains, feeling a little ridiculous. “Said it wasn’t safe for me to be around Evan because the doctors don’t know why I nearly died, they don’t know and that might mean that I could…” Connor swallows. Hard. “I could get sick again. I could die.”

Heidi’s eyes widen even more. She looks furious. “What the fuck. I can’t believe he said that to you, Connor, I am so sorry, that was completely out of line.”

“He’s not wrong,” Connor counters. “I… fear of abandonment, right? That’s a BPD thing. And if they don’t know why I was sick, then I could-”

“I could get hit by a bus tomorrow,” Heidi interrupts. “Or die in a plane crash on my way home. So, what, because that’s a possibility I should just stop talking to Evan?”

“Of course not.”

“It’s the same thing.”

“It’s really not.”

Heidi blinks a few times. “Connor,” she says gently. “What happened to you was awful and I’m so sorry you went through it. And I can’t imagine how scary it must have been for you. But you don’t deserve to go through the rest of your life afraid of what might happen to you.” She takes a breath, then continues. “After everything that happened between you and Evan, you have every right to leave if you want to-”

“That’s the last thing I want.” 

Heidi nods. Her face softens. “That’s what I thought.”

“I want to be there for him,” Connor says, a little hesitantly. “But I don’t want to hurt him. Not again.”

“It wasn’t your fault-”

“It doesn’t mean I didn’t hurt him.”

“And he hurt you.”

Connor blinks. Tries not to cry. 

“I want to be there,” he says again. “I… I care about him so much, Heidi, I… I know he doesn’t lo… I know it’s not the same as it was, but he’s still so, so important to me.”

Heidi looks at him with this sad expression. “You’re so important to Evan,” she says, her voice soft and deliberate. “He really, truly cares about you, Connor. He’s missed you so much.”

“I’ve missed him, too.” Connor swallows. “I just don’t want to hurt him again.”

“I know you don’t,” Heidi says with a nod. “But you might. And he might hurt you. That’s the risk you take with another human being. You just have to decide if it’s worth the risk.”

“It is,” Connor says immediately. “It… I know it’s not the same as it was, but just being able to talk to him, be around him… it’s so much better than us not talking. He’s my best friend. He’s…”

So much more than that. 

Connor can’t quite bring himself to finish, but Heidi nods and smiles knowingly. 

* * *

Connor visited that week on Monday afternoon, which was unusual since he normally only stopped by on Wednesdays and Saturdays. When Evan asked what prompted him to stop by, Connor had shrugged and said he figured Evan could probably use some company. 

Evan nearly kissed him, right then and there. He only barely managed to hold himself back from the impulse because he knew it simply wouldn’t fix anything. 

Connor looked tired and a bit… sad, honestly, Evan thought. “You okay?” He asked Connor softly, wanting to reach out and touch him but managing to resist. 

Connor nodded, his eyes still a little glassy and dull. “I… I dunno.” He shrugged. “I uh. I met your dad and… and your sisters and stepmom yesterday.” 

Evan stared at him. 

What.

Carl hadn’t said anything about… about visiting Connor he hadn’t mentioned anything he… “Carl came by the store?”

Connor nodded. “Uh yeah. It was kind of weird, honestly, but Edgar really liked the kids he -”

“Why did my dad come to the store?” Evan asked Connor, his voice shaking. 

Connor shrugged, his eyes dropping to the table. “I… I really don’t know. He said he wanted to meet me?”

Evan felt like he had been punched. “Fuck. Connor I am so sorry. That is not okay, he can’t just show up in your store and surprise you like that, that’s not fair I am -”

“It’s fine,” Connor said shortly, looking at Evan. “Not on you, anyway. I was just surprised. We’ve known each other for three years and this was the first time we met.” He shook his head. “You… you kind of look alike.”

Evan felt his face burn. “I know. I… I sort of hate it?” He wrinkled his nose. “He’s just… some burn out Nirvana reject and -”

Connor tilted his head, like he didn’t follow. 

Evan sort of sheepishly laughed. “I mean. It’s just… My dad is probably cooler than I am? Which is annoying because he sort of sucks at being a dad.” 

Connor frowned. “Your dad is absolutely not cooler than you. Trust me.” 

Evan smiled at that. “Edgar liked Amy?”

Connor’s face lit up. “Yeah. I did too… She reminds me of you. Smart as hell.” Evan felt his face heat up. “I gave her a copy of the second book in that series, actually? The one you got her for her birthday last year. So if you wanted to get her a present for this year, the third one might be a good choice.”

Evan beamed at Connor. “You are amazing? Thank you, really. I am so sorry they ambushed you like that but I appreciate you being polite to them anyway.”

“Of course,” Connor said, shrugging. He yawned suddenly. 

“You okay?” Evan asked. 

“This weekend kind of sucked. I’m just really tired.”

Evan could fucking relate. The weekend of therapy with his parents had been really tiring. He felt like if he would be allowed, he could easily sleep for a month. 

When Evan said this to Connor, Connor had cracked a smile and said, “That’s called a coma, actually. Turns out, not all that relaxing.”

Fuck. 

Fuck that wasn’t what he’d meant-

Fuck did Connor think Evan was making fun of him did he think he saw this as a joke did he think Evan was that cruel and that callous and Evan started to hyperventilate, apologizing over and over and over between labored gasps of air. 

“Fuck, Evan… I was kidding, shit, I’m a moron,” Connor said, looking panicked. 

So naturally Evan ended up bursting into somewhat hysterical tears because of that stupid joke. It was stupid. It was Connor’s trauma. He was allowed to do whatever he had to do to cope with it. Fuck, Evan was an idiot, a crying sobbing shaking hysterical mess. 

“Fuck,” Connor said helplessly, handing Evan a wad of tissues. “Fuck, that was… I’m an idiot, I’m sorry, too fucking soon, I’m sorry -”

“No, it’s not,” Evan said, hiccuping, feeling extremely stupid. “It’s not your fault, it’s…” He tried to catch his breath, to breathe normally and evenly and not totally lose his shit in front of Connor who was looking at Evan with these huge concerned eyes and he was frowning a little and chewing his lip and Evan just started to cry harder because he…

He had ruined everything. 

Sure he was working on trying not to, like, actively want to die but he had fucking ruined everything with Connor. On purpose. He had broken Connor’s heart, he had slept with other people and behaved recklessly, he had tried to kill himself in front of Connor for the second fucking time in this timeline he….

“God, you sh-shouldn’t be visiting me you sh-shouldn’t even talk to me, I’m ungrateful and-and stupid and I have daddy-issues I was so fucking awful to you and…. I’m sorry.”

“Evan -”

“You shouldn’t talk to me, you just shouldn’t, I’m a mess, I’ve been terrible to you and you shouldn’t forgive me, you shouldn’t, I hurt you, I left you, I’m a fucking h-heartless monster, I -”

Connor grabbed Evan’s hand. “Evan. I don’t think about you that way.”

Evan gulped, trying to catch his breath and struggling, failing. “I don’t understand. I don’t understand why you’d save me, I don’t understand why you keep coming here… Not that I don’t appreciate it. I do. God, I am so f-fucking happy to see you every time you visit b-but… But I don’t get it?” 

Connor blinked, looking confused. “Don’t get what?”

“Why you still care,” Evan said softly. “I… I ruined everything. I destroyed our relationship, I left you barely a month after you woke up from a coma, I… I hurt you. A lot. I know I did. And then I just disappeared and acted like an idiot and… Connor I. I really really fucking appreciate that you’re still here but I just can’t… I don’t understand  _ why _ .” Evan sniffed. “I don’t deserve your kindness or forgiveness, not after everything I’ve done to you. I know I don’t.”

Connor looked lost. “I… I just care about you. I don’t have any… there’s not big, grand plan? I just. I care about you. And I’m not going anywhere.” 

Evan wanted to keep pressing, wanted to try to eek out some kind of reasoning for why, but instead he just… nodded. Breathed out and in, steady even beats. His heart slowed down. Connor smiled at him, sheepish and worried and. 

Fuck. 

“Sorry,” Evan said. “Sorry, I shouldn’t have -”

“You’re okay,” Connor said. 

Evan sniffed. Wiped his eyes. “I… Thank you. Just. Thank you. For being here? For… being you.” 

Connor’s cheeks went pink. 

He cleared his throat. 

Evan did too. “Uh. Oliver… suggested I float the idea of… of me and you doing a session together?” He said awkwardly, his eyes down. “I said… I said I’d ask but. I. I understand if you don’t want to do that. I know how much you’ve already done for me and I don’t want to ask you to do more -”

“He wants me and you to meet with him together?” Connor interrupted, eyebrows knitted together. “Why?”

“Because, like, you’re… You’re important,” Evan said awkwardly, looking down. “You’re  _ really  _ important to me and… and I fucked up a lot of things. It. It might… it might be good. To like… talk stuff through.” He frowned then, remembering all of the things he couldn’t talk about with Oliver. The worlds of insanity that made Evan potentially dangerously crazy, but also made it unlikely he would ever be allowed out of here if he talked about them. “I mean. Like. He knows… some things. Not all of it. Obviously, because, like, that’s not… I just. It could be good? Or. Or not. It’s up to you,” Evan said, still staring at the table. “I don’t want to push.”

Connor bit his lip, still frowning. “Can I think about it? I’m not saying no I just… I want to think about it first.”

“Of course, yeah, absolutely,” Evan said, grateful and relieved. “Just. Thank you? For being so… I know how much this has to suck for you and you’ve been so kind and nice and wonderful and. I just. I really appreciate it? That you’re even, you know, willing to consider it.”

* * *

Connor thinks about it. 

Like, genuinely thinks about it more than he probably should. It’s basically the only thing he can think about. 

He wants to talk it over with Zoe, to ask her for advice, but he knows that she’s just going to tell him not to do it. That Zoe’s not really in a position to be rational about Connor even talking to Evan. 

Connor talks to Praveed about it at his next appointment, trying to get some kind of insight on what Evan’s motivation here might be. 

“It doesn’t make a lot of sense to me,” he confesses, folding up his legs on the sofa. “Why Evan would want to talk through our relationship with his therapist? I mean… it’s over. We’re over, we’re… just friends.”

“Is your friendship with Evan important to you?” Praveed asks, sounding genuinely curious. 

“Of course,” Connor says immediately. “It’s just… weird? I mean, it’s like… we were dating, we were a couple and now we’re not, we’re just friends, and I…” Connor shrugs. Lies back against the couch. “Part of me feels like maybe he… I don’t know, maybe him wanting us to talk about our relationship means that he wants me back.”

Praveed nods. Writes something down on his clipboard. “What would your reaction be?” he asks. “If Evan did want to rekindle a romantic relationship with you?”

“That he has bigger things to figure out right now,” Connor says immediately. “That he left me for a fucking reason, that just because I helped him out a bit doesn’t mean that he, like, owes me anything.”

Praveed nods. Tilts his head a little. “So you think that Evan feels some kind of sense of obligation to you for saving his life.”

Connor shrugs. “Yes? No? I don’t know. I just…” He blinks. Feels his eyes stinging. “He left. He left when I was really fucking sick and I think… he says he regrets it but I don’t know  _ what _ he regrets.”

Praveed hums a little, then twirls his pen around in his hand. “Can you say more about that?”

“I don’t know if he regrets leaving because I was, like, a total fucking mess,” Connor says slowly. “Or if he regrets leaving because he… he still has feelings for me? I just… I don’t know, and it’s…” Connor sighs. Rubs his face. “I told him I loved him and he said he didn’t want me. That should… that should answer my question.”

Praveed looks almost sad. “You and Evan were friends for a long time before you dated,” he says matter-of-factly. “We’ve talked about how much your friendship with Evan means to you. And I think you hit the nail on the head earlier when you said that Evan has bigger things to figure out right now than a romantic relationship.”

Connor nods. Feels his shoulders slump a little. “Yeah. Yeah, that makes sense.”

“It seems to me that Evan and his therapist want you to have a session with them because your friendship is important to Evan and you’ve been through a lot together,” Praveed continues. “And yeah, it could be hard, but I think that it could also be really good for you to be able to talk some things through with Evan in a safe space with a professional.” Something in Praveed’s expression flickers, an emotion Connor can’t quite place flashing across his features. Then he kind of smiles this sad smile. “Honestly? I wanted to bring Evan in for a session with you last year after you got out of hospital. I was just waiting until you were a bit stronger to float the idea. I can see why Evan’s therapist would want to bring you in.”

Connor feels his cheeks heat up. Shrugs. Sinks back into the couch. “I guess.” He sighs. “You think I should do it?”

Praveed tilts his head. “It’s up to you, obviously. But I don’t think it’d hurt.” He nods a little. “And at the very least, you can take this as a sign that Evan cares about you, even if it’s not in the way you want him to.”

Connor flinches. “I… I’m not…”

Praveed tilts his head. “Dude. Be honest with yourself. Are you still in love with Evan?”

Connor swallows. Hard. “Yeah,” he says, his voice coming out rougher than he expected. “Yeah, I am.”

* * *

Connor returned to the treatment center on Wednesday at his usual time. He smiled when he saw Evan and Evan… fucking needed that. 

It was just nice to see Connor smiling. And it was nicer to see Connor smiling at him. 

“I thought about it,” Connor said without preamble when Evan greeted him. “I’ll do therapy with you.”

Evan took a breath. “You’re sure? I don’t… I know it’s like. A lot. And there’s a lot of shit we haven’t talked about…”

“Yeah,” Connor said, frowning a little. “It might be, like. Good to uh. Clear the air or whatever?”

Evan nodded. 

“I just… Can I ask why?” Connor looked almost embarrassed, his eyes trained on his shoes. He was wearing boots today. Old, from the looks of them. Evan wondered if they were the same combat boots he had sported in high school. Then he remembered that the pair of them had the same shoe size and his heart squeezed painfully thinking about how he used to sometimes borrow sneakers or flip flops for coffee runs last summer, before Connor got so sick. 

Evan tried to figure out how to answer this question without, like, dumping six month’s worth of baggage on Connor. He settled on, “Because… you’re the most important person in my life. And I… I owe you my life. And about a million apologies… and. I dunno. I just. I… I hate that I made shit so fucked up with… with me and you. You are the best friend I’ve ever had and… I feel like. I owe it to you to, like. Actually do the work? You know?”

Connor frowned. “You don’t owe me anything.”

Evan bit his lip, “Maybe owe it the wrong word, then. It’s not… I don’t feel obligated? If that’s what… It’s not like I think because you saved my life, again, I have to… I just. Connor. You are so fucking important. And I… I want to like... I just want to be able to talk to you? Because you… You’re my person.” Evan frowned. “I know that… that I’m not yours anymore. And I know that’s my own fault because I wrecked everything. But you’re my… my favorite person in the world, and I just. I want to be able to… try to make things right. If that makes any sense.” Evan sighed. “I should have written this down. I think better on paper… but I used up all of my screen time writing an email to Amy.”

“I’m your favorite person?” Connor repeated in this strange sort of voice. 

Evan blinked. “Yeah. You are.” He frowned. “I’m sorry that I acted like you weren’t. I’m really fucking sorry for…all of it.”

Connor nodded. “Do we need to like… schedule this shindig or?”

Evan nodded. “Yeah, Oliver said if you wanted to do it, he could be here the next time you visit? If that’s okay?”


	125. ONE HUNDRED AND TWENTY-FOUR

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> "I just don’t know if I could get through losing you again."

Evan’s new therapist Oliver reminds Connor a little of Praveed. They’re around the same age, for one, and they have that same kind of casual approach. 

Despite Praveed’s insistence that Evan clearly cares about him if he wants him here at this session, Connor still feels out of place. 

He also doesn’t know what’s been said to Oliver about him, how Evan’s explaining all the bullshit insanity that’s happened to them. Obviously, Evan hasn’t told Oliver that they both died and died and died and died, that Connor was in an alternate reality while he was in a coma, but he must have said something. 

Probably he told Oliver that Connor cheated on him, and that’s why he left. 

That’s what Evan told everyone else, after all. 

At the end of the day it’s the closest to the truth he can get. 

But still…

Connor hates it. 

A whole lot. 

“So,” Oliver says, looking at Connor who’s sitting next to Evan on an absurdly comfortable sofa in a nicely decorated room. “Where do you want to start?”

“I have no idea,” Connor says immediately. “I don’t… I’m just… I’m not really sure I totally get why I’m here?”

“You’re an important person in Evan’s life,” says Oliver, his voice calm and even. “And the two of you have history together. History that I think it’s important we address.” He crosses his legs and looks between the two of them. “So let’s start from the beginning, yeah? When did you two first meet?”

“Elementary school,” Connor says with a shrug. “I guess? I’ve always known Evan. I can’t remember not knowing him. But we weren’t friends until my twenty-seventh birthday.” He swallows. “When I…”

“When you saved my life the first time,” Evan says, something dull in his tone. He’s not looking at either Connor or Oliver, just picking at loose skin on his cuticles. 

Connor wants to take his hand to stop him from picking, but he doesn’t think he’s allowed. 

Doesn’t think he has that right anymore. 

Oliver looks at Connor. “Connor, I’d like to hear your version of what happened on your twenty-seventh birthday.” 

Connor nods. “Okay.” He bites his lip. Takes a deep breath. Tries to figure out how he’s going to phrase this. “I, uh… I went to the liquor store the night of my birthday to pick up some whisky I ordered. I saw Evan there and I guess I recognized him? From high school? He looked… I could tell there was something wrong, that he wasn’t okay, so I… I wanted to make sure he was okay. I followed him home.” 

“What made you know?” Oliver asks, sounding genuinely interested. “How could you tell?”

Evan looks at Connor, his expression a little alarmed, and Connor can almost hear what he’s thinking. 

_ Don’t you fucking dare talk about the weird shit. _

Connor has no intention of talking about the loops. If he does that, he might end up stuck in this treatment center along with Evan and that’s not going to help anyone. 

Not for the first time, he considers the possibility that everything they’ve been through in the last three years is just some kind of shared delusion. 

He thinks back to the last time he went to the liquor store on his 27th birthday. The final loop, the one where Evan didn’t know him. 

“His eyes,” Connor says aloud, without even really meaning to. “They looked… blank. Dead.” He swallows. “Hopeless. I… I just knew. I could see it, I…” He blinks a few times. “I just knew.”

Evan won’t look at Connor. 

Connor looks at his shoes. 

“And after your twenty-seventh birthday, the two of you stayed in touch,” Oliver says, his voice matter-of-fact. “You became friends.” Connor looks at him and notices that the corner of Oliver’s mouth is curving into this small smile, like he’s amused. “More than friends, from what I can tell.”

“Friends with benefits,” Evan mutters, the tops of his ears turning pink. 

“Benefits like healthcare?” Oliver jokes. 

“Benefits like fucking,” Connor says bluntly. He can feel his face burning. “We, uh… yeah. We started dating maybe eighteen months after we reconnected, and dated for… almost a year.”

Almost a year. 

It’s not that long. 

In the grand scheme of things, it’s not long at all. 

Fuck, Connor spent more time fucking Richard than he did dating Evan. 

It doesn’t seem fair. 

The whole thing just isn’t fair, he…

They should have had more time. 

Connor looks at Evan, who won’t look at him. 

His chest twists uncomfortably. 

_ I miss you I miss you I miss you.  _

“After you broke up, did you stay in touch?” Oliver asks Connor.

He shakes his head. “No, we… we saw each other once in September, but then not again until… until the day before I turned 30.”

“When you saved my life,” Evan says, his voice rough and raw. “Again.”

Connor swallows. “I… yeah.”

“You’re always saving me,” Evan continues, his voice dull. “I… you shouldn’t have to do that, you shouldn’t… I left. I left you, a month after you got out of a fucking coma, and you… you talked me off the roof. You saved my life even after I was awful to you. You’re… you’re always saving me.”

Connor tries to break the tension. “Oh, if I do it five times I get the merit badge,” he jokes, and Oliver actually laughs at that. 

Evan doesn’t really laugh, he just kind of cracks this awkward-looking smile. It disappears almost instantly. 

He looks so sad, so completely resigned, and Connor just… hates it. 

Hates it so fucking much. 

Evan looks at his hands, picks at his cuticles. Lets out this long sigh. 

“I just… you’ve saved my life twice and I know I should be grateful. I should be, like, happy to be alive, but I’m not, I’m just… exhausted, completely fucking exhausted, and I keep thinking that it’d be… so much easier if you…”

There’s a heavy, sick feeling in Connor’s chest. 

“If what?” Oliver asks gently, even though it’s fucking obvious what Evan was about to say. 

Evan finally looks up, looks at Connor, and his eyes are glassy. 

“If you hadn’t been there. If you hadn’t saved me. If you’d just let me go.”

For a moment, Connor thinks he’s going to be sick. 

Just, like, puke all over this sofa. 

He swallows a few times, trying to get a hold of himself. When he finally feels like he can speak, his voice comes out shaky. “You asked me to let you go. When you were on the roof. You… you asked me to please let you go. To let you jump.”

Evan blinks. “I did?”

Oliver frowns slightly. “You don’t remember?”

Evan shakes his head. “Honestly, it’s all just… a blur. Blank. It’s… it’s blank.”

Connor swallows hard, still battling the feeling that he might puke at any moment. “You… I…” He blinks. His eyes are stinging painfully, so fucking painfully, and he’s trying the best he can to not just burst into tears. 

He’s cold, all of a sudden. Freezing cold, standing on a roof as the snow blows around them.

Trying to save the man he loves, a man who doesn’t love him anymore. 

He wipes his face. Looks at the floor. 

It’s quiet for a long moment. 

Oliver’s the one to break the silence. 

“If you and Evan hadn’t seen each other since September and hadn’t been in touch, then how did you know he’d be on the roof of his apartment that night?”

Evan tenses next to him. 

Connor swallows again. 

Looks at Oliver.

“I don’t know.”

Oliver blinks. “You don’t know?”

“I don’t know,” Connor repeats. “I… I just knew. I knew something was wrong, I could feel it. I know that it doesn’t make any sense and sounds completely crazy, but I just… I knew. I wish I had a better explanation.”

The words hang in the air, brimming with uncertainty. There’s this tension in the room, and Evan looks at Connor, then back at Oliver, this expression of fear on his face. 

Oliver nods a little. “Okay,” he says, his tone even. “It does sound a little nuts, but there are plenty of things in life that just make no damn sense.”

Connor chokes out a laugh at that, completely unintentionally. He looks at Evan, who’s kind of laughing as well, and they exchange a look. 

Oliver has  _ no fucking idea _ how true that is. 

Evan’s expression clouds over, his face falls and Connor reaches out to grab his hand. Squeezes it briefly, then lets go. 

“What’s going on?” Connor asks quietly. 

“You should hate me,” Evan says, frowning. “You should… you should hate me, because you’ve saved my life twice now, you keep saving my life and I’m not… I’m not grateful, I don’t want to be alive. I should be grateful and I’m not, that’s so fucked up-”

“I don’t expect you to be grateful,” Connor interrupts. “I definitely wasn’t fucking grateful when Zoe dragged me out of the bathtub in high school. I was… pissed. Pissed she hadn’t just let me die.”

Evan’s eyes widen. He looks horrified. 

“And I… I get that it’s hard,” Connor continues, the words spilling out of him. “I  _ really _ fucking get it. Fuck, I almost died last year, I was so fucking sick and I had to fight to get better. I had to fight to get my strength back, to eat and to walk and to be a fucking human being and it was so tiring, completely exhausting to keep fighting and... and then you left. And I… I didn’t want to fight anymore. I…” 

He trails off. 

Evan looks at him, his eyes big and scared, dangerously glassy. 

“I’m so sorry. I’m so fucking sorry.”

“I’m not… I didn’t mean to…”

“I’m sorry.”

Connor sighs. Rubs his face. “I didn’t mean to make you feel bad, it wasn’t… I wasn’t…” He sighs again. “I just wanted you to know that I get it. That you’re not… you’re not alone, you’re not…” He looks at Evan, a little helplessly. “I get that it’s hard to fight. 

“I’m sorry-”

“It wasn’t… the point is, the point is that you don’t need to feel fucking grateful that I talked you off the roof, I didn’t do it so you’d be grateful.” He shrugs. “I didn’t even  _ do _ anything but talk to you. You… you came with me. You came down. That’s a decision that  _ you _ made. And you’re… you’re here and you’re working and that’s… that’s  _ you, _ that’s you still fighting, even though it’s hard.” He looks at Evan. “I get that it’s hard. I really fucking get it. And I’m… I’m just glad you’re here.”

Evan blinks. “Yeah?”

Connor nods. “Of course. I’m so fucking glad you’re here, so glad you’re alive, I l-”

He stops himself. 

Swallows hard. 

“You’re my best friend,” he says quietly. “I’m glad you’re here. And you don’t owe me anything.”

* * *

“You’re my best friend,” Connor said, his voice quiet. “I’m glad you’re here. And you don’t owe me anything.”

That wasn’t true, of course. Evan owed Connor everything. He owed Connor his life, his literal beating heart, but it wasn’t just his life it was also his heart, his career… 

And he couldn’t even be fucking grateful for it. 

But Connor was nodding at him, and Connor… understood. Connor always understood. Even the most fucked up stuff that Evan brought to him, Connor managed to understand where he was coming from. Managed to see it from Evan’s point of view, managed to just… get it. 

Evan had never had that before. He didn’t really understand it. 

“I…” Evan said. “You’re my best friend too. You’re the… the best person I know. And I really am sorry for… for everything.” He took a deep breath. “And I’m sorry that… that I left the way I did. That I left at all. That you felt… like you didn’t want to keep fighting.” God, he hated that he had done that to Connor. That he had taken away that fighting spirit in him, because it was what made Connor Connor. He was a fighter, he was so strong, he was the sort of person who cracked stupid jokes after getting a catheter out because he was clawing his way back from the edge and would demand the right to pee on his own. He was so stubborn and beautiful and he fought so hard all of the time, not just for himself, but for other people too, for people who needed some to fight beside them, and Evan had… ruined that. Had taken that out of Connor. 

Even if he had gotten it back now, it didn’t undo the damage of Evan taking it from him. 

“I am just… I am so sorry that what I did made you want to stop fighting.”

“I know you are,” Connor said. 

“I’m glad you didn’t stop fighting,” Evan said, not able to look at Connor. He picked at his cuticles. “I’m really fucking glad you’re here. Not just… not just for me. For everyone. The bookstore kids, your family, the community… You are amazing and I.”  _ Love you. I miss you. I want you I only want you.  _ “I’m just really glad you didn’t stop fighting.”

Connor gave him a tentative smile when Evan looked up at him. 

“And what about you, Evan?” Oliver said. 

He didn’t understand. 

“How do you feel? You’re still fighting. You didn’t stop. How do you feel about it?”

Evan shrugged. He just kept looking at Connor. “I… Honestly it doesn’t really feel like I’m fighting very hard? Like.” He looked over at Connor. “I know you… you said that I was the one who made the choice to come down off of the roof. But… I wouldn’t have if you weren’t there. I wasn’t strong enough to come down on my own.” He wiped his face, embarrassed. “I wouldn’t be here, at this facility, if you hadn’t been looking out for me. I couldn’t have paid for it without your dad’s help. I wouldn’t have even called my mom if you hadn’t told me to do it…” He shrugged. “It feels like… Like I’m not fighting. Like I let you fight this one for me. And I hate that.”

Connor frowned at him. “But I didn’t fight this for you… I just. I wanted to help,” He said, sounding a little frustrated. 

Oliver nodded. “So what I might be hearing you say,” He said, tapping his pen against his lips, “Is from where you’re standing, Connor, you think you’re fighting by Evan’s side rather than for him. Would you agree?”

Connor looked surprised, but then he nodded. “Yeah.”

Oliver nodded at Evan. “I know it’s tough to accept help. You’ve had to do a lot of stuff for yourself over the years. We talked at length with your parents about how much you have been expected to be self-sufficient since you were a very young kid. And you’re used to being totally independent, Evan, but you’re not alone here. You have people in your corner who want to help. And I think Connor has more than proved that he means it when he says he’s not going anywhere.”

Evan swallowed hard, looking at Oliver, not at Connor. “But what if he changes his mind?” Evan whispered. 

“I won’t,” Connor said, reaching out and squeezing Evan’s fingers firmly before letting go. “You can’t get rid of me that easily.”

Evan almost laughed. “You say that but…”

The tone shifted. 

“But I got sick,” Connor said softly. “I left you alone.”

That. 

That exactly. That was exactly it. 

“They don’t even know why you were so sick,” Evan said quietly. “And… I know. I know how stupid it is to, like, have a thing about it. You did not decide to get sick. But I am terrified, all of the time, that it might happen again? And if it did… I just don’t know if I could get through losing you again. I…” 

Something difficult to read overtook Connor’s expression. “I…”

Evan waited. 

Oliver wrote something down. 

“I mean, I could get hit by a bus tomorrow,” Connor said finally. “Or you could fall down some stairs and break your neck. The planet could literally explode at any moment.” 

Evan stared at Connor helplessly. 

Oliver nodded. “He is right, Evan,” Oliver said, making a note on his clipboard. “You can’t ask someone to promise you that they will never befall an accident or illness, no matter how much you might want to. There is an inherent risk in caring about anyone that you might lose them.”

But if Evan lost Connor… if he ever lost him again, he knew he wouldn’t survive it. He was barely handling it now and Connor was less than a foot away from him. 

Connor grabbed Evan’s hand again, squeezing it, “I know… I know it’s not easy, and that I’m asking you to take a leap on something that isn’t a guarantee. But I don’t plan on going anywhere. Okay?”

Evan sucked in a deep, shivery breath. Let it out. Blinked some more, trying to focus, to be there, to be present. “Okay.”

Oliver smiled at them both. “So… that was some pretty tough shit we just talked about. How are you both doing?”

Connor looked thoughtful. “I’m okay,” He said finally. “Sad, I guess but. I’m really glad we got the chance to talk.”

“Evan?” Oliver prompted. 

“Fine,” Evan said quickly. 

Oliver raised his eyebrows at Evan. 

Evan sighed. “Fine. I’m… exhausted? And I feel kind of…” He looked back down at his cuticles. “Empty. I dunno. It’s… hard. Knowing I should be feeling stuff and just… not.”

Oliver nodded. “That empty feeling is extremely common for someone with your diagnosis. We can check in about it more when we next meet, alright? For now, though, do you feel safe?”

Evan considered it. “Yeah.”

Connor smiled beside him. 

“Any thoughts of hurting yourself?” 

Evan shook his head. “Not really.” 

Oliver smiled. “Good work today. Connor, thanks for coming in.” He reached out, shook Connor’s hand. Connor stood up and shook it back. 

Evan and Connor headed out of the office, both wiping their eyes awkwardly and then smiling a little at each other. “Thank you so much for coming,” Evan said quietly. “I know it was… it was a lot to ask, but I really appreciate you doing it.”

“Of course,” Connor said, a pained look crossing his face. “I just want to help.”

“You are…” Evan stopped himself short, stopped himself from just telling Connor how stupidly in love with him Evan still was. Instead he briefly rested his hands on Connor’s shoulders. “You are the best. Really. Thank you.”


	126. ONE HUNDRED AND TWENTY FIVE

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> "You love him. I wasn’t sure if you were ever going to admit that.”

“So, that session with Connor was kind of intense,” Oliver said casually when Evan next met with him. 

Evan nodded. It was. 

“How are you feeling about that?” 

Evan shrugged. “Okay, I guess? It’s… it’s good to know that he… he doesn’t want to bail.” He swallowed hard. “It’s just… I feel guilty?”

“How so?” Oliver asked. 

“Because I…” Evan looked down at his fingernails, picked at his cuticles. “After we broke up, I. I slept around like. A lot.”

“You said,” Oliver said. “We talked a lot about how sex made for a good distraction from how you were feeling.”

Evan nodded. “Just… Connor knows that I was. Sort of. Sleeping with a lot of people.” He bit his lip. “But I slept with a few people that… that I’m really fucking ashamed of sleeping with.”

Oliver nodded. “Why is that?”

“Because they were… really fucking awful decisions,” Evan said quietly. “Because. I… I fucked up. I… There was this guy Charlie?”

Oliver nodded. “You mentioned him once,” Oliver said. “You said he… was violent?”

Evan nodded. “I. I was really fucking drunk. And he and I got into it after he tried to… to like attack this guy I know from my neighborhood? He was homeless at the time, and Charlie just. Went after him. I punched Charlie,” Evan said, a lump forming in his throat. “And then I took him home with me.”

Oliver nodded. 

“I… He’s a big guy, but I…” Evan pulled his hoodie sleeves over his hands, pinching the cuffs between his thumbs and forefingers. “I uh. I wasn’t quite so. Skinny. In October when it happened. I broke his nose… but. He kept hitting me, hurting me, and I… I let him? I let him really hurt me. He broke one of my ribs. Put his hands around my throat. Gave me a black eye. And I could have fought back but I didn’t.” 

“Why did you let him hurt you?” Oliver asked. 

Evan shrugged, embarrassed. “Because… because I fucking deserved it? I wanted someone to hurt me. I  _ wanted _ to be hurt. Because I’m a bad person who… who hurt Connor and my family and… I thought I deserved it.”

“Do you still think that?”

Evan bit his lip. “Yeah. A lot of the time I do.”

They sat with that for a while. “Is that why you don’t want to tell Connor? Because you wanted to be hurt, to be punished?” 

Evan nodded. 

“And there were other people who you said made you feel ashamed?”

Evan swallowed hard. “I… I slept with one of Connor’s old coworkers.”

Oliver tilted his head slightly. 

“This guy Garrett? He worked at Connor’s bookstore. He was… a real asshole when Connor took over as manager. He constantly, like, undermined Connor’s authority and was generally a huge dick to him. And then… Like a few months before Connor was supposed to take over as the owner, he quit without notice. And. Connor wasn’t doing so well, like, mental-health wise at the time? He was really panicked about failing and… When Garrett quit, Connor started to overwork himself like. A lot.”

“And you slept with Garrett.”

Evan nodded tearfully. “I did.”

“You seem to be having quite the reaction to owning that.”

“I… I was just. I was so stupidly angry… at Connor?” Evan said. “I left  _ him _ and. And I knew he was heartbroken, and I was heartbroken, but. Everyone I knew was taking his side. Even… Even my mom. And I just… I wanted to get back at him. I wanted to hurt him, so I slept with Garrett because I knew if it ever got back to him, that Connor would hate me for it.”

“Did it ever get back to Connor?”

Evan shook his head. “I don’t think so…” He wiped his face. “I. I think I have to tell him.”

Oliver just looked at Evan for a long time. “And why do you think that?”

“Because… Because I love him. And it’s not fair to him to decide to be back in my life without all of the information,” Evan said.

“You love him,” Oliver said, and he was smiling, almost triumphant. “I wasn’t sure if you were ever going to admit that.”

“Of course I love him,” Evan said, a small smile creeping onto his face. “I love him more than… than I’ve ever loved anyone. More than I’ll ever love anyone else. Which is why I… I owe it to him to get better. And to. To be honest.”

“Does being honest include telling him how you feel about him?” Oliver asked. 

Evan nodded. “Yeah… but. Not now? I. I’m… I’m still, like. Figuring out how to want to be alive. I don’t know if I’m ready to tell him that yet. I’m kinda… I’d like to be in a stronger place before I say that. And I… I think he already knows?” 

Oliver nodded. “But you want to tell him about Garrett?”

“It’s not fair if he doesn’t know about that,” Evan said. 

“And you’re sure you want to disclose that? Connor will probably be hurt and angry to learn this.”

“I am. And I am so fucking terrified he will decide he doesn’t want to be around me anymore but… but it’s not fair to lie to him about that. It’s like. False pretenses if I let him look after me and be my-my friend or whatever… if I haven’t been honest with him about the shitty things I’ve done. The stuff I did to… to hurt him. Connor deserves to know the truth.”

Oliver smiled. “That is… that’s very fair of you, Evan. But. He might decide he doesn’t want to continue a relationship with you once he knows.”

Evan swallowed hard. “I know. And I hate that. I really hope he doesn’t… but. I. I can’t just lie to him because I’m scared he’ll leave.”

“And how do you imagine you’ll cope if he does leave?” Oliver asked. 

Honestly, Evan had no plan. He had none. He was going out on a limb and hoping he could rely on Connor’s unfailing kindness. “I don’t know. I just know that… this is something I have to do.”

“Alright,” Oliver said. “Let’s practice how you’ll tell him then.”

  
  


Evan normally got excited when Connor was coming to visit him in treatment. Normally, it made his whole week. Normally, Evan looked forward to talking to him all day, and when Connor left he felt better, more relaxed, more like a person. He loved seeing him. He loved seeing his smile and his laugh and fuck he was just still so in love with him that his mere presence made Evan feel so much better.

But not today. 

Because today Evan had to tell Connor about what he’d been doing while they weren’t speaking. 

Or more specifically, who he had been doing. 

He didn’t want to tell him. Connor already knew about Richard but he didn’t know about the sheer quantity of people Evan had been with. And he didn’t know about Garrett. Or Charlie. 

Evan knew it would hurt him. 

He’d known at the time too but he didn’t stop. 

He hadn’t stopped. 

He should have. 

He never fucking knew when to stop. 

Connor arrived in the early evening on Wednesday. He was smiling. 

“How was Soup Day?” Evan asked him. 

“Good,” Connor smiled. “Still trying to figure out what we can do once summer hits. My dad was thinking sandwiches, but there’s a lot more that goes into sandwich making.”

Evan nodded. “Yeah, that’s totally-totally fair.”

Connor’s smile faded. “What’s wrong?”

Evan shook his head. “No… No I wanna hear about Soup Day. I don’t want to… I don’t want to talk about it. Not yet. Please.”

Connor looked worried. Evan didn’t blame him because everything he told Connor lately was worrisome. “You can tell me.”

“No,” Evan said, blinking rapidly. “Not yet. Please. Just… tell me about Soup Day. Did Otis come help you out?”

Connor nodded. “Yeah, he did.”

“And how was he? Was he… was he okay?”

Connor frowned a little. “He seemed kind of down today.”

“Oh,” Evan said, chewing on his lip. “I’m sorry. Is he alright?”

“He just gets sad sometimes.” Connor’s head was tilted a little. “Evan…”

Evan was crying. Fuck, he kept doing that, tearing up without even noticing. Fuck. Fuck he was supposed to be practicing staying present. Fuck, Oliver was probably going to be pissed at him because this is not how they practiced Evan telling Connor about this.

“Whatever it is, you can tell me,” Connor said gently. “You can tell me anything. It’s gonna be okay.”

Evan wiped his face. Nodded. He didn’t believe Connor but he nodded. “Okay.” He took a shaky breath in. “This is… this is hard.” He swallowed. “Because… I don’t want to hurt you. But I did something and-and I know it’s going to hurt you when I tell you.” 

Connor’s eyes went wide. “I… What did you do?”

Evan took another few breaths. “When uh. When you and I weren’t talking… I mean. You know I was… a mess. A huge mess.” Connor nodded, urging Evan to continue. “And I did a lot of stuff to uh. To hurt myself. A lot of stupid and reckless stuff. And. I slept around. Like. A lot.”

Hurt flickered across Connor’s face. “Okay.” He cleared his throat awkwardly. “I mean. We broke up, it’s not like… I mean I kind of wondered? After Richard, I mean.”

Evan nodded. He wished that was all he had to tell him. “Yeah, it was… It wasn’t, like. Super great. I was being uh. Really fucking impulsive. I slept with a lot of strangers, usually when I was really drunk… I was just. Making some pretty stupid decisions all around.” 

Connor nodded, and his eyebrows knitted together. “That’s, like… a thing right? A BPD thing? Making impulsive decisions?” 

Evan nodded. “I uh… Fuck. That’s uh. That’s not everything.” He bit his lip for a moment. “I’m…. I’m really sorry.” He cleared his throat. “Do you remember Alex and Mattie’s roommate before me, Charlie?”

“Yeah?” 

Evan glanced around to make sure nobody was listening. “And how he freaked out about the mirror? On New Years?”

Connor looked sort of sick. 

Evan dropped his eyes to his hands on the table.

“Him too. He… he also,” Evan took a breath. “Looped. And. He told me. And we got… really fucking drunk, and uh. He actually tried to pick a fight with Otis?” Evan dared to glance up at Connor’s face. “I got in his way. I stopped him and I-I punched him and…” He shook his head. “It was  _ bad.  _ We uh. We slept together and, um. Kind of just. Tore into each other? Like. Physically.” Evan shook his head. “I ended up with a black eye and a broken rib.”

“Fuck,” Connor said, his eyes so big and so sad. “I’m so sorry that… Fuck, are you okay? Now? Like… you’re not still in pain from that or…?”

“No,” Evan said, shaking his head. “No, I’m fine. Don’t worry about that.”

“Fuck, I… Otis said something,” Connor said, shaking his head. “When he first started staying with me, but you know how he talks, I had no clue what he was talking about really… Just. Fuck.” He rubbed a hand over his face. “And you’re sure you’re alright?”

Evan wished that was everything. God, he wished that was everything. 

He was so fucking stupid.

“Connor I’m-” Evan started, swallowing the words, his eyes tearing more. “That’s not all.”

“Oh,” Connor said. 

“I slept with Garrett,” Evan said, the words spilling out fast. 

“What?” Connor said, his eyebrows knitting together in confusion, his beautiful face looking alarmed and sad and like he didn’t understand. Like Evan was speaking another language, like he had said something utterly unintelligible. 

“Garrett. The one from the bookstore who-who fucked you over and quit without notice I… I bumped into him, at Richard’s firm’s holiday party and I… Connor, I am  _ so  _ sorry.”

Connor had gone very pale. Evan suddenly worried that he might faint. He reached out a hand to steady Connor but Connor held up one of his, blocking him. “Please don’t.”

“I’m sorry,” Evan said. He swallowed hard, the tears still coming. “I am so fucking sorry. I… I shouldn’t have done that. I knew it at the time and I… I really fucked up. I’m so damn sorry, I knew it would hurt you and I did it anyway and I know how awful and selfish that makes me, I know -”

Connor shook his head. “Why him?” He asked in this small, hurt voice. “Why  _ him _ ?”

Evan hung his head. “Because he was… he was there and I was… I don’t have a good reason. Or an excuse. I just. I was stupid and I am so sorry.”

Connor’s own eyes filled with tears and Evan couldn’t breathe. He couldn’t breathe he couldn’t breathe seeing that he couldn’t breathe or think because he had hurt Connor he never wanted to hurt Connor but all he did was hurt him. 

Connor got to his feet suddenly. “Look, I gotta go I… forgot. I have a thing, sorry, I’ll see you later.” 

“I’m sorry,” Evan repeated, getting to his feet as well, rounding the table because maybe if he could just get Connor to look at him to listen maybe if he could just see that Evan was sorry, but Connor stepped out of his range. “Connor please… Please just. Don’t go. Please. I’m really sorry. It didn’t mean anything to me and I know, I-I know how fucked up that was and I’m sorry. I’m so sorry just please… please don’t go.”

Connor shook his head tearfully. “I can’t… I’m sorry, I just… I have to go.”

“Please,” Evan said, begged, whatever. “Connor  _ please _ .”

But Connor walked away. 

And Evan felt as if he had caved in on himself. Like his insides were collapsing, like the walls were all crumpling in, and he wrapped his arms around himself to try to mitigate the damage, try to hold it in but he couldn’t he couldn’t Connor was leaving he left he wasn’t going to come back he wasn’t ever going to come back Evan had finally fucking done it he’d finally ruined the one good thing in his life for good, he’d thought he’d managed not to wreck it but then he managed it and he just could not stop crying, could not stop sobbing, these horrible choking noises escaping him, his legs giving out as he cried and cried and before long someone was at his side, checking in on him, trying to see what was the matter and Evan just cried harder, cried louder, telling them not to touch him not to help him because he deserved this he deserved to feel like this he deserved it he deserved it he deserved all of it. 

Evan ended up needing to be sedated. He spent the night in the infirmary, outside of his regular room. He had managed to scratch up his arm with his untrimmed fingernails because he wasn’t even trusted with nail clippers, so they had him in restraints to keep him from doing it again. 

Evan thought this had to be it. It had to be the worst part. 

He couldn’t bear it if this wasn’t the worst part. He couldn’t. 

* * *

Connor’s hands shake so much that it takes forever to order a Lyft from the treatment center back to the bookstore. 

He can’t really see his screen properly, because he’s fucking crying and it’s getting all over his phone and he can’t push the fucking touch screen and fuck. 

Fuck. 

Fuck. 

When the Lyft driver arrives, she’s kind enough not to comment on Connor’s obvious distress. She just quietly drives him home and tells him to have a good night when they arrive, something genuine in her expression. 

Maureen is sitting in the sunshine spot reading a book and Jax is still working. The store’s empty. It’s only just gone six o’clock. 

Connor tries to get to his apartment before either of them see him but he’s shit out of luck. 

“Connor, are you okay?” Maureen asks, her dark eyes wide with alarm. 

“No,” Connor admits. But he keeps walking toward the apartment. Up the stairs. He fumbles in his pocket for his keys. Edgar’s at his ankles, meowing loudly. 

Connor’s hands are shaking so badly he can’t get the key to work. He can’t make the fucking key work, fuck. 

Fuck. 

Fuck. 

Maureen’s at his side. She takes the keys from Connor gently and puts them in the lock. Turns the key and ushers Connor inside, her arm around his waist protectively. 

“What’s going on?” she asks, her voice quiet and concerned. 

“I… I don’t want to talk about it,” says Connor miserably, taking a seat at his kitchen table and putting his head in his hands. “I don’t even want to think about it, fuck.”

It’s all he can think about. 

Evan and Garrett. 

Fucking Garrett. 

Evan fucking Garrett. 

Fuck. 

Fuck. 

Fuck. 

He genuinely didn’t see this coming. Had no fucking clue, no fucking idea, no fucking inkling at all. 

Richard? He saw that coming. He knows how fucking self-destructive Evan can get, he gets it. He hates it, he hates it so much, but he gets it, that self-loathing. 

Charlie? Okay, not so much. But he’d had a feeling that something was up with the guy, and after Alex had mentioned Evan’s broken rib…

The idea of Evan letting someone hurt him makes him sick. Completely sick. But he gets it. 

But Garrett? Sleeping with  _ Garrett? _

That’s…

The only reason Evan would do that is to hurt  _ Connor.  _

That’s…

Connor hopes it was bad. Terrible. Horribly disappointing. 

Fuck. 

Evan must really hate him. Must have really hated him, must have really,  _ really _ wanted to hurt him. 

Connor knows that Evan doesn’t love him, not the way he loves Evan, but he’d never thought he’d  _ hated _ him that much. 

He…

Connor manages to get to the kitchen sink before throwing up, his throat burning with hot bile. He pukes twice, then kicks the kitchen cabinet below the sink, wipes his face and starts rummaging through his shelves for alcohol. 

The only way he can possibly deal with this right now is to get completely shit-faced. 

“Whoa,” Maureen says, sound alarmed. “Connor, hey.”

“Go back downstairs,” Connor snaps. “Trust me, I am not good fucking company right now.”

Maureen grabs his arm. Connor turns toward her wildly, then freezes. 

For a moment, he’d wanted to punch her. 

He thinks about punching Jenny in the other reality. 

Fuck. 

He’s such a fucking monster. Fuck. 

“I’m not going to do that,” says Maureen firmly. She guides him to the living room and sits him on the couch. Pulls out her phone. “Have you eaten?” 

Connor shakes his head. Puts his elbows on his knees and his head in his hands and just…

Tries to breathe. 

Fuck. 

He thought it hurt when Evan left. He thought it hurt to talk Evan off the roof. He thought it hurt to see the marks on Evan’s arms. 

He thought it hurt when he found out Evan was dead in that other universe. 

But this…

He’s just fucking devastated. 

It wasn’t personal before, it wasn’t… directed at him. 

Evan hurt him. 

Evan  _ wanted _ to hurt him. 

Garrett leaving with no notice was when everything started to fall apart for Connor, started to really fall apart, coupled with that encounter with his dad and his jibes at Connor’s inexperience and inability to run a business. It sent him into a full on mental health crisis, a proper spiral, and Evan knows that. Evan  _ knows, _ better than anyone, just how much that affected Connor. 

And that wasn’t enough to stop Evan from fucking Garrett. 

Because he was there. 

Because he could. 

_ “Connor please… Please just. Don’t go. Please. I’m really sorry. It didn’t mean anything to me and I know, I-I know how fucked up that was and I’m sorry. I’m so sorry just please… please don’t go.” _

Evan had begged him to stay. 

Begged him to stay. And Connor had just… left. 

Because what good did it do when Connor begged Evan not to leave him?

What good did  _ that _ do?

Connor can barely concentrate on anything. His brain is just… screaming. Screaming so loud he can’t process anything else. 

Maureen orders food and puts on the television and they sit and eat Indian food and watch anime even though Connor has never once watched anime in his life and definitely isn’t paying attention. It feels like no time has passed before Jax has joined them, taking a seat on the sofa next to Maureen and watching Connor with concerned eyes. 

“You went to see Evan,” Jax says, their voice hard. “What did he do?”

“Jax, come on,” Maureen says quietly. 

“He has to have done something,” Jax replies immediately, frowning deeply. “Connor. What did he do?”

Connor shakes his head. “I really, really don’t want to talk about it.”

Jax looks pained and very pissed off. “Whatever it is, you know we’re on your side.”

“I know,” Connor says, trying not to sound as angry as he feels. “I know.”

_ Sides don’t matter, _ he thinks to himself, rubbing his face.  _ Sides don’t fucking matter. _

The entire world could hate Evan on Connor’s behalf and it wouldn’t make a scrap of difference. It wouldn’t change anything. 

Evan wanted to hurt him. 

Even after he’d already gone. Already shattered Connor’s heart into a million pieces. He just had to keep going, keep on causing pain. 

He…

_ I’m such a fucking idiot, _ Connor thinks to himself. 

He’s an idiot for ever believing Evan loved him. 

For fighting so hard to get back to this reality for him. 

For… 

God, Evan must think he’s such a fucking joke. So completely pathetic for holding on, for dropping everything to help look after him, for…

No. 

No, he won’t regret that. 

He can’t regret saving Evan. 

He…

Christ, he’s so fucking tired. 

He’s been tired for months. Months and months and months. 

He just wants to stop getting hurt. 

He just wants to stop hurting. 


	127. ONE HUNDRED AND TWENTY-SIX

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> “How do you even fucking measure hurt, anyway? What makes someone’s pain worse than someone else’s?”

Connor’s a mess the next few days. A fucking mess. He tries to distract himself absolutely any way he can - admin tasks he’s been putting off, reorganizing the stock room - but he keeps getting distracted by how fucking heartbroken he is, how stupid he feels, how he can’t stop thinking about Evan and Garrett, Evan and Garrett, Evan and Garrett. 

Garrett and his stupid smarmy face and his stupid voice and his stupid tiny head.

He’s pretty sure that if he ever sees the guy again he will literally kill him with his bare hands, that’s how much he hates him right now. 

Part of him wants to go through the store emails, find Garrett’s personal email and sign him up to a whole bunch of mailing lists, but that is petty and terrible and Connor is a fucking adult. 

He’s a fucking adult and he’ll fucking act like it. 

He disinfects the staff bathroom and thinks about Evan kissing Garrett. 

He mops the staff kitchen and hopes that Garrett was a terrible kisser. 

He stacks a whole shelf of boxes of books in the stock room then re-stacks it immediately, then re-stacks it again, all the while thinking about Garrett’s hopefully inadequate penis. 

Connor is losing his goddamn mind about this. Holy fucking shit. 

He finally cracks late Friday afternoon, locks the door of his apartment and gets out the bottle of Chivas Andre gave him for his 30th birthday. 

The 30th birthday that Evan fucking ruined by trying to fucking kill himself. 

Connor feels a pang in his chest at the thought. 

Dammit. 

He still cares. 

He still cares and cares and it sucks, it fucking sucks, because he never used to care. 

Before he met Evan, he never used to care about anything except getting high. 

There are weed brownies in his freezer, Connor remembers. 

Ridiculously strong ones, if memory serves. 

He takes them out of the freezer and puts them in the microwave. While they’re defrosting, he starts on the whisky. 

He’s three glasses in by the time the brownies are warmed through, or at least defrosted enough to eat, so decides that now’s as good a time as any to get high off his ass. 

He eats four brownies in quick succession, along with another two glasses of whisky. Curls up on his couch and watches… whatever fucking thing Maureen lined up on Netflix on Wednesday. It’s anime, whatever, Connor is not an anime fan. He doesn’t know what’s going on. He eats some more brownies and keeps watching. 

The little cartoon assholes remind him of Evan fucking Garrett. 

Fucking limp-dicked smarmy asshole pretentious marshmallow fucker. 

Fucking fucksticks. 

Motherfucking asshole. 

It takes him a while to realize that Otis is sitting on the couch next to him. 

“Jesus fucking Christ. Where the fuck did you come from?”

Otis looks sad. “You let me keep the key, remember?”

Connor blinks. “Oh. Yeah. Right.” He offers Otis the bottle of whisky. Otis takes it, has a swig, then passes it back. “What are you doing here?”

“Wanted to check up on you,” Otis says, something heavy in his voice. “I heard the screaming. I couldn’t not hear it.” He looks like he’s in pain. “So loud. So, so loud.”

“Yeah, well, having your heart ripped out of your chest, torn into pieces then crushed into dust isn’t exactly a quiet process,” Connor replies, taking a long gulp of his whisky, which is nearly half empty. Half-empty, like everything else in his fucking life, because he fell in love with someone who can’t love him and it made him half a person, it tore him in two, and he shouldn’t have fallen in love in the first place, what kind of fucking dumbass decision was that?

“It wasn’t a decision, though,” Otis says quietly. “Was it? You didn’t have a choice. You’re connected. Not just here. Not just in this universe. In all of them.”

“Bullshit,” Connor says, rolling his eyes. “That’s just… fucking bullshit.”

“Even when you don’t connect, there are still roots,” Otis says, still in that quiet, calm voice. “Roots. Deep, deep roots. Years and years and roots and roots, it can’t be denied. They don’t always blossom, don’t always bear fruit, but the roots are always there, under the surface, even if you never see the tree.”

“I have no idea what the fuck you’re talking about,” says Connor bluntly. “I… I never have any idea what you’re talking about. It’s all riddles with you, riddles and-and-and games and-”

“This isn’t a fucking game,” Otis interrupts, his voice harder now. “It’s never been a game. Not for me.”

Fuck. 

“Sorry,” Connor mutters. “I’m an asshole.”

“You’re not.”

“I am, though. I’m an asshole who… I’m an idiot, I’m so fucking stupid, so stupid, I let myself believe that he loved me, that he cared, but all he’s ever done is hurt me.” Connor drinks more whisky, then continues. “And everyone else I care about keeps telling me to give up on him but I’m a stubborn asshole and I just… don’t. I don’t give up, I keep going, I keep believing in him, keep trying to help, like this… fucking pathetic creature, I’m so pathetic, I just let him hurt me and how is that healthy? How is that good for me? If I just keep letting him hurt me and hurt me and hurt me?” 

“You know that he’s hurt himself worse.”

“Has he?” Connor asks bitterly, before drinking more. “How do you even fucking measure hurt, anyway? What makes someone’s pain worse than someone else’s? How do you fucking quantify that shit, how do you measure it?”

“You can’t,” Otis says quietly. “Not really. And you’d think there’d be a limit, but… there’s not a limit on pain, it just kind of gets harder to tell when it keeps going. Like a scream.” He winces. “You’re both so loud. It hurts. It isn’t supposed to be like this.”

“He wants to hurt me,” Connor says. He bites his lip hard. Tastes blood. “He wants to… make me suffer. For leaving him. He wants me to suffer for leaving him, but  _ he _ left because he hated the way I came back. I can’t… I can’t win, there was no way to win this. No way for this to be okay. I should have known that the minute I woke up in the other reality. I wouldn’t have… I wouldn’t have had to tear myself apart to get back. I would have…” 

Something occurs to Connor. 

Something sharp and hot and painful. 

“You said it stopped,” Connor says to Otis, looking him dead in the eye. “For three weeks in June and early July, it stopped. And you didn’t… you didn’t keep jumping around, you were in one universe. This universe. You were… you were normal, you got to be a normal kid, have a normal life. Because I was stuck. It was while I was stuck.”

Otis looks so sad. He shakes his head. “It wasn’t right. This… this one isn’t right, it’s not the right one-”

“But you got to be normal,” Connor insists, gesturing with his bottle of whisky. “You got to be normal, you had a job and a place to live and… and then I got into a bathtub full of ice and let a nutjob stop my heart and it started all over again for you. That’s on me, Otis. It would have been better if I’d stayed in that universe and you got to have a normal life.” 

“He wouldn’t have made it,” Otis says, and he looks genuinely sad. “He’d have lasted two weeks. Two weeks after your funeral, to the day.”

Connor feels cold. 

So fucking cold. 

He can feel ice. 

“What happens?” Connor asks, even though he knows, he knows he knows he knows. 

“You know what happens,” Otis says gently. “You know, Connor. He’d be gone without you.”

“I’d be better off without him,” Connor says. 

He knows he’s lying the minute he says the words. 

They feel sour in his mouth, awful, wrong wrong wrong. 

Otis shakes his head. “You know that’s not true.” 

“I know,” Connor says, and he’s cold and he’s shaking and he can feel ice, ice in his veins, ice everywhere, he can feel the cold porcelain of a bathtub, he can feel the life draining from his wrists, he can hear reality screaming and see a shadow in the corner of his eyes, a six-foot-tall teenager who’s made a decision, a seventeen-year-old in an ill-fitting park ranger uniform at the top of a tree, the floor is covered in pine needles and the mournful sound of a guitar fills the air and he is spitting out pine needles, spitting out razor blades, he is falling falling falling, he is falling in a forest and nobody’s around and the stars are gone, the stars are blotted out, it’s snowing and it’s not, there’s hail in his mouth and he can’t breathe, he can’t breathe, and someone is grabbing his coat and pulling him out of the path of an oncoming bus with the face of someone he knows on it, someone is pulling him close and telling him he’s got him, telling him he’ll be okay, he is being carried up the stairs, being held in a hospital bed while he shakes and shakes and shakes.

_ “I’ve got you.” _

_ “I love you. Don’t go anywhere on me, okay?” _

_ “Please. Please. I love you. Please come back.” _

_ “You’re the love of my life.” _

_ “I will love you forever. I will love you until I can’t anymore.” _

“Liar,” Connor says, spitting out the word like a pine needle, like a razor blade. “Fucking liar, it’s a lie, they’re just lies, they’re all lies and I’m so stupid, so fucking stupid-”

Otis touches Connor’s arm gently. 

The world snaps back into place. 

And Connor’s sitting on his couch with Otis, extremely drunk, extremely high and extremely heartbroken. 

“You’re not stupid,” Otis says softly. “And they’re not lies.”

“If they’re not lies,” Connor replies, still shaking, “then none of this makes sense.”

“Nothing makes sense,” Otis says. He sounds so sad. “I’m so sorry. This was always going to be the hard part.”

Connor closes his eyes. He’s so tired. 

“Is there an easy part?” he asks. 

“I don’t know,” replies Otis. “I wish I did.”

Connor has never been this hungover in his life. 

And he’s been plenty fucking hungover in the last 15 years. 

He wakes up next to the toilet and pukes and pukes and pukes. There’s a bottle of water next to him and there’s even a pillow under his head, which Connor absolutely knows he did not have the presence of mind nor ability to get himself. 

“Hey man,” says Otis’s voice, soft and worried. “You okay?”

“You’re still here?” Connor asks, his voice coming out rough and scratchy and weak.

“Yeah,” Otis says, like it’s completely obvious. “Of course.”

Connor pukes again. 

And again and again. 

When he’s finally done, he takes the bottle of water Otis is offering and drinks carefully. He’s shaking. Shaking all over. 

He’s so tired. 

He’s so… drained. 

There’s no fight left in him. All the anger he felt last night has just given way to all-encompassing, unending sadness. Emptiness. 

“Let’s get you to bed,” Otis says in this quiet, careful voice. He helps Connor to his feet, then to his room, and basically tucks him in. He gets a bowl from the kitchen and puts it on the bedside table, along with some water and some painkillers, then actually, genuinely, tucks Connor’s hair behind his ear and pats his cheek in this gesture that’s almost maternal. Connor looks at him, a little bewildered, and Otis turns pink. 

“Sorry,” says Otis, clearly embarrassed. “I just… my mom does that? When I’m sick.” He looks almost ashamed. “I’m sick a lot when I see her.”

Connor’s heart aches for Otis and his mom, his mom who’s not alive in this universe, his mom he only sees sometimes because of a fluke in the fabric of time, because he’s stuck bouncing around, bouncing between universes. 

“I’m sorry,” Connor says weakly. “You shouldn’t have to look after me.”

Otis smiles a little. “It’s okay,” he says gently. “It’s nice to be able to look after you for a change. You’ve helped me so much.”

“I’m supposed to visit Evan,” Connor says, barely above a whisper. “I always visit Evan on Saturdays. I… I don’t want him to see me like this.”

“I can stop by later,” Otis offers. “Let him know you’re sick.”

“Don’t… maybe don’t tell him I…” 

Otis nods. “Okay. That’s okay, I can do that.”


	128. ONE HUNDRED AND TWENTY-SEVEN

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> “This was always going to be the hard part.”

Evan knew better than to get his hopes up after the disaster that was Connor’s last visit, but on Saturday he got dressed and waited in the lounge anyway. Just in case. Just in case Connor actually showed up. Just in case… 

He wasn’t going to show, Evan knew that, but… he hoped. 

Stupidly. He hoped stupidly. 

He just… he really needed to see Connor again. To apologize and do it right this time. To fix this because… Because Evan had to fix this. If he couldn’t fix this then he didn’t know what he would do. He didn’t know if he could survive it. He couldn’t survive without Connor, he’d shown that, proved that, over and over here and now and also apparently in an alternate universe. He couldn’t survive without Connor. 

“That’s categorically not true,” Oliver pointed out to Evan when they met for an extra session after he’d panicked so much when Connor left that he landed himself restrained and sedated for a couple of nights. “You lived almost twenty seven years without him in your life.”

Evan had rolled his eyes. “Yeah and that worked out so well.”

Oliver gave him a sympathetic look. “I know it’s hard, but you’ve got to give yourself credit where it’s due. You wanted to die at seventeen, and you tried to end your life. And then you survived for an entire decade without another attempt. That’s not nothing.”

Evan really didn’t need that shit. 

He was pretty pissed off at Oliver, truth be told. “If you hadn’t said I should tell him, we would still be fine.”

“No,” Oliver said patiently, “You wouldn’t be fine, you’d spend every interaction feeling guilty for not telling him. That’s why  _ you  _ decided to tell him. I didn’t make you. You brought the idea to me.”

“Bullshit you didn’t!” Evan had shouted. “You-you fucking manipulated me into telling him and now he’s never going to come back. I ruined everything because you told me to.”

“Evan,” Oliver said, his brows knitted together. “You didn’t ruin anything. You just told the truth. You can’t control how Connor is reacting to it.”

“I shouldn’t have told him,” Evan said. “I listened to you and now he will never speak to me again. Thanks for that, that’s just… fucking awesome, I lost the one person - the  _ only _ person - who has ever cared about me and it’s your fucking fault.”

Oliver didn’t really react. He stayed maddeningly calm. “Evan. Remember the conversation we had about splitting? About black and white thinking?”

“Seriously?” Evan had responded, angrier still, his blood boiling, his whole body shaking with rage. “Are you fucking kidding me? You want to lecture me now about how I’m not thinking about things with enough  _ nuance _ when I just tanked my entire relationship with Connor? Seriously, that’s your move?”

“What relationship did you tank, exactly?” Oliver asked, sounding curious. “Your friendship or the potential of getting back together?”

“Fuck you,” Evan said, his eyes flooding. 

“Because I know we talked about you telling Connor you still had feelings for him, and you said you didn’t want to do that until you had done some more work on yourself. You and I agreed that it wouldn’t be wise for you to be quite that vulnerable right now -“

“Shut up!”

“-While you’re still so early in your recovery!” Oliver was steadfast, and he smiled at Evan which just made him want to punch his smug stupid fucking face. “You made that choice. And I know it’s a hard choice to make. I know you wish you could undo all of the harm you’ve done to Connor because you were struggling. But you can’t just snap your fingers and make things better. You know this. That’s what we’ve been working on together.”

Evan took a breath, trying to calm down. “I still want him,” Evan said. “And I’m scared he… he’ll never want me back now that he knows.”

Oliver nodded. “Say more.”

“I… he left.”

“Yes,” Oliver said. “Connor left.”

“And he might not come back.”

“He might not,” Oliver said. “But you knew that when you decided to tell him. You didn’t want to maintain a relationship with him that was based on lies and omissions. You told the truth even though you knew it might stop you from getting what you want. You made a brave and extremely difficult decision. You should be proud of yourself.”

Fat fucking chance.

Evan was not proud. He was terribly ashamed and horribly guilty and still desperately clinging to the hope that Connor would show up on Saturday, knowing it was the longest of long shots. 

Connor didn’t show. 

Evan waited in the lounge for hours, waiting and watching and hoping… But Connor didn’t show. And really, Evan hadn’t expected him to show. But it still hurt. It still ripped his heart in two, knowing Connor was probably done with him forever and it was his own damn fault. 

Stupid. He was so fucking stupid. 

Evan retreated back to his room. Tried to read the book Connor had brought him last but his brain wouldn’t focus, wouldn’t cooperate. He cried… a lot. 

Not enough to get himself sedated again but… he cried a lot. 

In the late afternoon, one of the CNAs Evan knew stopped by his room. Evan’s mom had instantly befriended her on Evan’s first week. While Evan was being assessed and his mom was handling the paperwork and forking over the check Larry Murphy had written without even blinking. 

Her name was Elena. She was a single mom too. Her kid’s name was Mariana. Elena checked in on Evan most days, reminded him to call his mom… sometimes she would sneak him Mexican candies. 

“Hey,” She said with a smile. “You got someone here to see you.”

Evan’s heart leapt. He practically sprinted out of the room. 

It wasn’t Connor. It was Otis. 

Evan couldn’t hide his disappointment. And his confusion. How did Otis even know where Evan was? He’d emailed a few people, friends and former colleagues, apologizing for the shit he had done in the last year, but he had only let a select few people know where he was. And Otis was not one of those people. 

“Hi,” Otis said to Evan, giving him a nervous smile. 

“Hi,” Evan said. He held his tongue and didn’t blurt “what are you doing here?” Instead he said, “How are you?”

“Tired,” Otis said with a sigh. “It can be exhausting.”

Evan didn’t know precisely what the “it” in question was, but that was a whole ass mood. Evan nodded. 

“Connor couldn’t make it today,” Otis said after a few minutes of awkward silence. “He’s sick.”

Evan’s heart dropped. “Sick?”

_ Oh god oh fuck oh fuck  _ that proved it that proved that this was all Evan’s fault, every time Evan fucked up Connor paid for it, every fucking time, every -

Otis seemed to realize his mistake. “Hungover! He’s… Connor’s hungover.”

Evan breathed. “Hungover?”

Otis nodded. “Yeah. Hungover.”

“Oh,” Evan said, a bit… relieved. But then again, how could he trust a hangover when he couldn’t trust a routine appendectomy. “And nothing… weird happened?”

Otis shook his head. “Mostly just. Headache and puking.” He tried a smile. “I can relate.”

“Have you been sick?” Evan asked, because he hadn’t known. 

“I’m sick a lot sometimes.” Otis shrugged. “It gets so loud. So loud. Makes me sick to my stomach.” He fixed Evan with a look. “It wasn’t supposed to be like this.”

Evan nodded. “How was it… how was it supposed to be?”

Otis shook his head. “Better. Not like this.”

Evan looked helplessly at Otis and whispered, “Do you think he’ll ever forgive me?”

Otis returned his gaze, his eyes so… tired. Like they belonged to a man well beyond twenty-four. “This was always going to be the hard part.”

Evan nodded. 

They just sat there together for a long time. A long fucking time. 

“Thank you,” Evan said at length. “For coming here. I know we… we’re not really even friends, but it means a lot.”

Otis smiled. “It’s harder alone,” He said wisely. 

_ No fucking shit _ , Evan thought. 

“Do you… I mean you don’t have to stay,” Evan rushed to say, because the last thing he wanted was for this twenty-four-year-old kid with his own shit to feel obligated to spend time with him in a mental health facility. “But uh. There’s a music room? And I… I am not. Musical. I never ever mastered the recorder in elementary school, my teacher said I had a ‘dangerous’ lack of rhythm but… I know you play the guitar. We could go check that out? If you want. You don’t have to.”

Otis gave Evan this massive smile. He looked so young and so vulnerable then. “I’d like that.”

Evan led the way into the music room. It was pretty empty, just one older woman idly plunking notes on the piano. She grinned at them, a wide toothless smile. 

Otis spent the next hour going over some basic piano notes with the woman (her name was Molly, and she was seventy-six they learned). When Molly finally retired to her room, Otis kept fiddling around with the piano, eventually playing something that Evan thought sounded familiar but also not. A song he knew but didn’t recognize, somehow. 

Otis stopped playing abruptly. He looked at Evan with big wide eyes. “He doesn’t last without you. You should know that. He’s not better off. He doesn’t last.”

Evan thought his heart might have stopped. 

“It gets really bad. He’s not there anymore.”

Evan shook his head. “No that… That wasn’t what I wanted. I didn’t want that.”

Otis looked at Evan with big sad eyes. “That isn’t how this works.”

“Then how does it work?” Evan begged. “I don’t understand and-and everything I do is wrong.”

Otis put a hand on Evan’s shoulder. “It wasn’t supposed to be like this.”

Evan had started to cry. “Was I the one… Was it what I did?”

Otis shook his head. “I don’t know. I don’t know.”

“I thought… I thought it meant something. That he and I got out together,” Evan said softly. “I thought it meant we were supposed to be together but then I fucked up everything.”

“The cracks just keep getting wider,” Otis said, nodding. “And it never stops turning.”

Evan wiped his face. “I don’t know how to make things better. I keep hurting him. I keep hurting him and I don’t want to hurt him. I never want to hurt him and it’s all I do.”

“You can’t take pain away,” Otis said. “You can only share it. Humans, people? We aren’t designed for that. We’re too fragile and the cracks just get bigger.”

“Well that’s not fucking fair.”

Otis nodded, giving Evan this sad half-smile. “This was always going to be the hard part,” He repeated.

Evan nodded. “Is there an easy part?”

Otis shook his head. “I wish I knew.”

* * *

Connor manages to drag his sorry ass out of bed later that afternoon. He’d slept badly, slept on and off, puked a lot and shook and shivered and genuinely just felt like absolute garbage. 

He showers, even though it feels like running a fucking marathon. Rinses out his mouth before he brushes his teeth because he’s been puking and he doesn’t want to fuck with the enamel, Evan always says you shouldn’t brush your teeth right after puking because it’ll destroy the enamel. 

Of course Evan knows about destruction. Of  _ course _ he fucking does. 

Connor feels guilty immediately at the thought. 

When he gets out of the shower he gets dressed. Puts his hair into a bun. 

Looks at his refrigerator and contemplates eating something. 

Otis had put the rest of the weed brownies back in the fridge. Part of him is tempted just to eat the rest of those. So he doesn’t have to think about any of this. 

Not that it really helped last night. 

Fuck. 

There’s a knock on the door of his apartment. 

Connor goes to answer it, weirdly certain for some reason that it’s Evan, armed with food, here to apologize and bring Connor something greasy and terrible to eat to help with his hangover. 

He knows it can’t be because Evan’s in a treatment facility but for some reason, he can’t help but hope. 

When he opens the door, there’s Nate, standing there a little awkwardly. He smiles when he sees Connor, his striking gray eyes lighting up at the sight of him, before his smile fades a little. “Hey,” he says gently, “everything okay?”

“Just hungover,” Connor admits, opening the door wider to let him in. 

Nate looks sympathetic. “Jax said you seemed kinda upset about something?” he ventures, a little uncertain. “I saw them yesterday and they said you’d been… down.” He smiles a little. “I texted?”

“Sorry. I meant to text you back. I’ve… kind of been going through it,” Connor admits. “I don’t really want to talk about it, sorry.”

Nate nods. Frowns a little. “Wanna go grab something to eat? Something greasy and terrible. There’s a bar near my place that basically does hangover food as part of its menu. Apparently it’s kinda new, it only opened last summer.” He smiles a little sadly. “I know you don’t love going to places you went with your ex, so…”

Connor feels something inside his chest ache and twist.

“That sounds great,” Connor says with a soft smile.”That’s… you’re way too nice to me.”

Nate smiles, this warm smile that makes his eyes crinkle. “I think I’m just nice enough,” he replies. He slings an arm around Connor’s shoulder. Kisses him on the cheek. “Come on. Let’s go eat something super bad for us, yeah?”


	129. ONE HUNDRED AND TWENTY-EIGHT

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> "I’m scattered across time. That’s what it feels like. Everything’s wrong and weird and not how it’s supposed to be.”

Maybe half an hour later, Nate and Connor are at a bar Connor’s never been to before. It’s a cool place, kind of weirdly decorated, with lots of strange, colorful art all over the walls. The guy behind the bar has a weird accent Connor can’t quite place and they end up ordering cheesy fries and bacon sandwiches, because Connor has no idea what they are but he wants bacon, fuck it. The food comes quickly and it’s greasy and delicious and makes Connor feel a whole lot better almost instantly. 

Nate launches into a story about a bunch of eight-graders doing a dramatic retelling of Moby Dick that involved a whole lot of dick jokes that surprisingly seemed to capture the key beats of the story and Connor almost forgets about Evan for a while. Nate’s a good story teller, a real natural, and it’s clear that he really cares about the kids, about what he’s doing, and he’s passionate and funny and incredibly cute and Connor wishes he could love him. 

Wishes that the part of him that’s capable of loving people in that way wasn’t broken. Hadn’t been crushed into dust, along with his heart. 

They finish their sandwiches and Nate, a little hesitantly, suggests they get a drink. His cheeks are pink and Connor can spot dimples underneath his neatly trimmed beard. “It’s okay if you’d rather not,” Nate says, a little shyly. “I’m just… I like spending time with you.”

“Hair of the dog, right?” Connor says, and orders them both whisky, because he knows Nate likes it. 

One whisky turns into… a lot of whisky. 

A whole fucking lot of whisky. 

They keep talking and drinking and flirting and Nate keeps looking at him and blushing, looking at him with this soft smile, and Connor can’t deny that the man is objectively beautiful. Tall, lanky, with those incredible pale gray eyes, like nothing Connor’s ever seen before. They haven’t had sex, but they’ve kissed. A lot. When they kiss Nate’s beard tickles a little, but it’s soft and it smells good and Nate mentioned something about beard oil one time which made Connor tease him about being a hipster which Nate cheerfully owned and said something about Connor’s blazer meaning he had no leg to stand on. 

Nate is kind and passionate about his career and they both love books and they’ve talked about literacy programs, about getting books to kids from low-income families, and about how reading is something that kept them both going as kids. 

Nate’s patient and understands that Connor’s been burned, understands that Connor’s still recovering from both physical and emotional devastation. 

Nate knows that Connor’s in touch with his ex, that he helped him through a mental health crisis, that he’s there for him, that he visits him in treatment, even though he broke his heart. Nate doesn’t give Connor shit for it like the other people in his life. 

Doesn’t tell Connor he should cut Evan out of his life. 

Even though it’s pretty obvious he should. 

Zoe would tell him to cut Evan off. So would Graham. So would Jax.

Honestly Jax would probably tell Connor to dump all of Evan’s stuff in the alleyway behind the store and set it on fire, instead of keeping it in the stock room like he’s doing now. 

Nate is… exactly what Connor needs right now. A solid, steady, understanding guy who doesn’t want to hurt him. 

But Connor wants Evan. 

He just wants Evan. 

Connor feels dizzy. He goes to get up for more whisky and stumbles a little.

“Whoa, okay,” says Nate, immediately steadying him, looking a little concerned. “Let’s get you home, yeah?”

“I’m fine,” Connor slurs. “I’m… tough, I can hold my whisky. You don’t have to worry about me, Nate, I’m really tough. I can… I’m really fucking tough, I punched a coma in the face.”

Nate looks alarmed. “You did,” he agrees, sounding a little cautious. “But I’m pretty sure the coma punched you back, dude. I’m gonna take you back to your apartment.”

“I punched a black hole,” Connor continues. “I punched a hole in the universe.” He downs the last of his glass of whisky. “Fuck the universe, man. All the universes. All… gazillion of them, they’re all shit. Everything is shit.”

“I’ve ordered a Lyft,” Nate says, and he looks freaked out but he’s taking control of the situation, he’s decisive and goal-oriented and knows what he’s doing, and Connor likes that, he likes that a lot. Nate is good. 

Nate is very good. 

Connor wants to forget about Evan fucking Garrett. 

Connor wants Evan to know how this feels, Connor wants…

In the car on the way home, Connor kisses Nate’s neck. His face. His lips. He runs his hands along his arms, then kisses the spot where his neck meets his ear. Nate shivers, but doesn’t pull away, not really. He strokes Connor’s hair. Puts his arm around him. 

Helps him out of the car. Into the bookstore. Helps him disarm the alarm, then rearm it, then head upstairs. 

They’re in the kitchen. 

Connor grabs hold of Nate’s jacket and kisses him. Hard. 

He tastes like whisky and bacon and it’s wrong, it’s wrong, it’s not supposed to be like that, he should taste like cigarettes but he doesn’t smoke, Nate doesn’t smoke, Nate doesn’t keep kosher. 

They make out for a while against the fridge, Connor pressing his body against Nate’s firmly. Nate is warm and solid and real and he tangles his hands in Connor’s hair. 

Connor kisses him hard. He wraps an arm around his waist. Lets the other hand explore his body. 

He can feel that Nate’s getting hard against him. 

He reaches for Nate’s belt. 

Nate takes his hand so gently and moves it away.

“I don’t think this is such a good idea,” he says, his voice so kind. “You’re… really drunk.”

“You don’t want me?” Connor asks, feeling stupidly like he might cry.

“Believe me, I want you,” Nate says, reaching out and tucking Connor’s hair behind his ear. “I’ve wanted you since the moment I saw you. But not like this, okay? You… you’re upset about something, and it’s okay that you haven’t told me, I get that, but I don’t… I don’t think I can just be a distraction.” He shakes his head. “I mean, of course I can be a distraction, that was… most of the point of tonight, but… I don’t want to have sex with you if you’re not really here.” 

Connor blinks. “I’m never really here,” he says, feeling lost. “I’m… scattered across time. That’s what it feels like. Everything’s wrong and weird and not how it’s supposed to be.”

Nate’s face falls. He looks so sad. “I’m so sorry.”

Connor blinks a few more times. Feels the sting in his eyes. “I just want it to be easy,” he confesses. “Can it just be easy?”

Nate kisses him softly. “I don’t know what’s going on,” he says, his voice soft. “But I know that life just… isn’t easy. I wish it were? Especially for you.” Nate kisses him again. “You’ve been through enough.” 

Connor lets Nate take care of him. Drinks water when Nate gives him a glass, then another, then another. Takes off his shoes when prompted. Takes off his jeans and goes to bed in his boxers and a t-shirt. 

When he wakes up, he has a pounding headache, and there’s someone lying next to him. He looks over to see Nate there on Evan’s side of the bed, one of his legs dangling over the edge. It takes Connor a moment to figure out what the fuck is going on. 

Nate’s a light sleeper, it seems, because his eyes open and he’s looking at Connor, expression uncertain. 

“How are you feeling?”

“Like I got hit by a bus with Alana Beck’s face on it,” Connor replies immediately. 

Nate looks confused. “What?”

Connor tries to sit up. “I, uh… Alana Beck? She’s on the city council. Her face was on a lot of buses a few years back when she was up for community board.”

“Huh.”

“We went to high school together,” Connor continues. “Evan and I were in the same grade as Alana. She’s probably going to be president one day.”

Nate frowns. “You and Evan went to high school together?”

“Yeah,” Connor says, feeling a little guilty. “Elementary and middle school, too. Did I, uh, not mention that?”

“No.”

Connor shrugs. “We grew up together, but we weren’t friends until we reconnected as adults here in New York. It was… unexpected.”

“Huh,” says Nate, and he pastes on a smile that doesn’t quite reach his eyes. “Do you need anything? Aspirin? Coffee?”

“Both of those sound awesome,” says Connor, grateful for the change of subject. He feels his face flush. “Sorry I got so drunk on you.”

“It’s okay,” Nate says, his voice gentle. “I don’t mind taking care of you.” He reaches out and tucks a strand of Connor’s hair behind his ear. “You deserve someone who’ll take care of you.”

Connor doesn’t know what to say in response. 

He’s so fucking tired. So fucking hungover. 

They stay in bed for a while, just talking about nothing in particular. Nate gets Connor a glass of water and insists he drink the whole thing. Not long after, he suggests they go get breakfast and Connor agrees, throwing on some jeans and pulling his hair back into a messy bun. 

Nate orders them a Lyft and they end up at this cute diner halfway across town in Nate’s neighborhood, which Connor appreciates. It’s not a neighborhood he knows well, which means it doesn’t have memories of Evan, which means he can stand it. 

“I’ve got to get to school,” Nate says after they finish eating, looking apologetic. “I have some grading to do. It’s just around the corner, want me to order you a Lyft back to the store?”

“I got it,” Connor says, pulling out his phone. Nate looks a little disappointed and Connor kind of rolls his eyes a little. “Come on, dude, you insisted on paying for breakfast. I can get my own Lyft.”

“Next time we do this, you pick the place,” Nate says immediately, smiling. “How about that?”

“Sounds good to me,” says Connor, ignoring the weird twisting in his stomach. 

His Lyft arrives not long after. 

They’re barely a few blocks away when Connor finds himself asking if they could change their destination. 

* * *

Evan slept badly. 

He tossed and turned and when he finally managed to sleep, his dreams were awful. 

Just awful. 

Evan recognized the facility because it was the one he was staying in. He saw the same, familiar faces, the same CNAs, the same doctors. Dr. Kate was taking Connor’s vitals, frowning deeply. 

Zoe, Cynthia, and Larry all looked on anxiously. 

Dr. Kate explained that Connor was conscious, was alive, just… catatonic. “It appears to be a response to the trauma… Connor just isn’t present.”

Zoe shook her head, looking angry. “We shouldn’t have told him.” 

“He would have found out,” Larry said. “It would have been impossible to hide it. It made the news, and… And there was that email.”

Zoe looked even angrier. “As if leaving him wasn’t bad enough -”

“Zoe, that’s enough.”

“-He went and fucking killed himself. And look what it did to Connor!” She said, her eyes filled with angry tears. She looked so young, so hurt. “He fucking  _ broke  _ him.”

“Zoe,” Their mom snapped. “Stop.”

What was happening? 

Evan stepped closer to Connor, but nobody seemed to notice him. Nobody looked his way. Dr. Kate was beckoning Larry and Cynthia over toward her, talking softly to them about Connor. Talking through long term care, how they would keep trying different therapies but so far nothing had managed to draw Connor out of himself. 

Evan walked closer to Connor, approaching carefully, hating the way Connor’s eyes were just… empty. Dull. Nothing behind them at all. 

“What happened?” Evan asked him softly, trying to reach for Connor’s hand, but his own hand passed through, like he was insubstantial, a ghost. “Connor, what’s going on? What happened to you?”

Connor blinked, his eyelids heavy. He blinked again, but then his eyes focused on Evan. 

“Connor,” Evan said, his voice urgent. “Connor, look at me. Can you hear me? Can you see me?”

Connor blinked a few times. His face looked so sad. “Are you real?”

“Yes,” Evan said softly. “Yes, I’m here. I’m real. What happened? Why are you here?”

Connor looked around, his eyes distant. “You died.”

Evan shook his head. “No. No I didn’t. I didn’t die, you saved me. You  _ saved _ me.”

“No,” Connor whispered. “I didn’t.” 

“Connor, no, listen, that’s not… That’s not what happened, you saved me, look at me please please I love you I love you please. Please.”

Connor shook his head. “No. I don’t… I don’t want you.”

Evan felt that like a knife to the heart like a black hole opening up inside of him sucking out all of the good things.”What?” Evan whispered. 

“I don’t want  _ you _ .”

His eyes went dull again, all glazed over, and Evan tried again to talk to him but Connor just stared off into space. 

“Connor?” Zoe said, her voice frantic. “He said something. He said something, I heard him! Connor?” She said, grabbing his hand, squeezing it. “Connor look at me. What did you say? What’s going on?”

Connor kept staring. 

He blinked slowly. 

His eyes were so dull, so empty, so dead. So fucking dead. 

Evan was crying and crying. “Connor, Connor, please please please… Please. Please,” he tried, but Connor didn’t look at him, didn’t look at anything. He just kept staring off into space. 

Evan woke up covered in a cold sweat. 

What the fuck what the fuck what the fuck.

His mind kept echoing with Otis’s words. 

_ “He doesn’t last without you... It gets really bad. He’s not there anymore.” _

Evan so so badly wanted to call or text Connor or run out of the building and get a cab to the bookstore and shake Connor awake to make sure he was still there, still present, still real but… He was here. He was no good to Connor here.


	130. ONE HUNDRED AND TWENTY-NINE

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> "An apology would probably be a good place to start."

Evan went through his Sunday trying very hard to keep distracted. He tried out a meditation class that lots of other people in his group at the facility liked. Evan wasn’t sure he was cut out for meditating because when he sat in a quiet room and tried to focus on his breathing, all Evan could do was thinking about his dream with Connor’s dead eyes, his dull stare, the fact that he was in this facility in the dream, the fact that Otis said if Evan died Connor wasn’t there anymore…

So he wasn’t really meditating. 

He was just worrying while sitting on the floor and an instructor tried to correct his posture. 

He wasn’t sure what to do with himself. Evan went to lunch and picked at his food, his brain still replaying some of the dream he had, the conversation with Connor about Garrett… the way he’d begged Connor not to leave. 

The fact that Connor left. 

Connor had every right to leave. Evan knew that. He  _ knew  _ that. Connor got to be upset, he got to be hurt and angry. He was allowed to walk away. Evan had caused him a lot of pain.

Evan knew that. He knew it. 

But it still hurt. It hurt that he had left, it hurt that he’d left and it hurt that he hadn’t visited yesterday. 

It fucking hurt. 

Evan hated it. 

He hated this so much. 

After lunch, Evan went into the rec room, looking for a distraction. He played a video game for a while with Paul. Paul was in Evan’s group; he was thirty-seven and a stock broker. He’d suffered a mental breakdown on the exchange floor after his wife asked him for a divorce, or so Evan had learned during group. He didn’t talk much but he liked to play old school games, so he and Evan sometimes just… Played  _ Mortal Kombat _ or whatever. 

Paul always kicked his ass. 

Evan didn’t mind so much though. 

It was a distraction. 

And Evan wanted so badly to be distracted today. 

Thirty minutes into getting his ass handed to him by Paul in  _ Super Smash Bros.,  _ Elena dropped into the rec room to let Evan know he had a visitor. 

He was surprised. He wasn’t expecting anybody, especially not on a Sunday. Mariah had mentioned trying to make it to visit him in the next week or so in their last email exchange, but Evan doubted it would happen. His mom had gone back home. Unless Otis had come back, Evan couldn’t think of anybody else who could be visiting. His dad kept saying he might come back, and Evan kept telling him not to waste the airfare. 

...He hadn’t quite forgiven Carl’s suggestion of having Evan declared incompetant. 

Whatever. 

Evan apologized to Paul, who told him to come find him later to resume his “ass whooping.” Evan agreed easily. He liked Paul well enough. They had some shit in common. Apparently, Paul had even heard of Evan before they met. Small world. 

He really didn’t know who might visit him though. 

Because obviously it wasn’t Connor. 

Probably Mariah then. 

Mariah made the most sense. 

...But it wasn’t Mariah. 

Evan stepped into the lounge to see Connor sitting there at their usual seats. He looked… tired. A bit pale. His hair was tied up and a bit messy, like he hadn’t taken great care of it in the time since Evan had last saw him. Overall, however, he looked fine. Not… seriously ill or hurt. Not dead behind the eyes, a dull expression on his face, unresponsive. 

Evan wanted to pull him into the tightest hug and apologize until his voice died in his throat. 

But he couldn’t. He wasn’t allowed to do that anymore. 

So instead he approached cautiously, unsure what he was walking into with Connor. Connor gave him a tired and sort of half hearted smile. 

“Hi,” Evan said. 

“Hi,” Connor returned. 

“Is it okay if I sit?” Evan asked. Connor nodded. He looked tired. Fuck, he must have been really hungover if he still looked so tired after an entire day of being hungover. Evan took the seat near Connor and he turned to look at him. “I wasn’t sure you’d come back.”

Connor fixed Evan with this unreadable expression. “Honestly? I wasn’t sure I would either.” 

Evan flinched. He deserved that. He definitely deserved that. Evan tried for a moment to find his voice. “I am… Connor, I am so sorry.”

“I know you are.”

“It was unbelievably stupid of me. I know how much an asshole Garrett is, and I… I know how much it hurt you. And I am genuinely so damn sorry. You deserve so much better, and I sincerely apologize.”

Connor nodded. “I… could have handled it better.”

Evan dropped his gaze. “It’s nothing you did, I mean, I dropped the news on you and… and then I… I’m just sorry, Connor, I really am.” 

“I know you are.”

* * *

Evan looks tired, Connor thinks. Like he hasn’t slept well. 

Honestly, he’d be in the same boat if it wasn’t for the fact that he’d spent most of the past two days drunk off his ass. 

His head hurts. His head hurts, he’s hungover, he didn’t take his meds last night, he feels kind of sick, he knows he looks like shit and honestly, he should have just stayed in bed, he should have stayed home, but somehow here he is. 

Connor’s here. Visiting Evan. 

Because somehow, it always comes back to this. 

Somehow, he always comes back to Evan. 

Part of him keeps saying that he’s making a mistake.

That he shouldn’t be here, he shouldn’t forgive Evan, not for this. 

Not for any of it. It’s too much, there’s too much that Connor can barely get his head around it. That Evan can say all he wants, can apologize until he’s blue in the face but actions speak louder than words. 

And Evan’s actions? They scream contempt. 

But he’s here.

Connor’s here, and Evan’s here, and Evan’s… trying. 

He’s trying to fix things. 

Evan didn’t have to tell Connor about Garrett. 

Connor kind of wishes that he hadn’t. 

“I’m just...” Evan says, not looking at Connor. “I really am sorry? So fucking sorry. I was… such an idiot, it was so stupid, I was… I’m so sorry.”

“I know you are,” Connor says for the third time.

He’s pretty sure he believes Evan. 

He thinks he’s sure. 

He…

Evan’s still not looking at him. His hair’s getting a bit longer than he usually wears it. Wavy. It looks soft. 

Connor knows that it’s soft. Knows how Evan’s hair feels between his fingers. 

He knows, because once upon a time, he got to touch Evan. 

Kiss him. Fuck him. Make him moan and gasp and shiver. 

Hold him close. 

Love him. 

Fuck.

He can’t sit here and look at Evan and make the decision to let him go. To walk away again. He just can’t. 

He should walk away, but he can’t.

Connor clears his throat. “You didn’t… you didn’t have to tell me,” he says, trying to keep his voice even. “About Garrett.” He sighs. “I can’t say part of me doesn’t wish I didn’t know, but… it’s brave of you. To… to be honest with me like that.”

Evan finally meets his gaze. “I don’t want to lie to you,” he says, sounding pained. “I don’t… I didn’t want it to be this thing that hung between us, I didn’t want to…” He looks so sad. “If I didn’t tell you, I’d still know. I’d still know what I did. And I’d feel guilty all the time that you didn’t know, because you…”

“Yeah,” Connor says, his voice hollow to his own ears. “I get it.”

“I don’t want to lie to you,” Evan says, and there are tears running down his face. “I… I want to be honest with you, because you… you are  _ so _ important to me. You are… you’ve been kinder to me than I deserve, you’re the best person I know and I… I-I-I am so sorry I hurt you, I’m so sorry for everything, I don’t want to hurt you, I never want to hurt you-”

“You don’t want to hurt me?” Connor interrupts, despite himself. “Because I’m pretty sure you deliberately fucked Garrett to hurt me. He didn’t just, like, fall on your dick.”

Evan recoils like Connor’s slapped him. “I’m sorry.”

Connor lets out a frustrated sigh. “Fuck. Sorry. That was… I’m an asshole-”

“No you’re not,” Evan says immediately. “I deserved that, I…” His shoulders sag. “You’re right. You’re right, I did do that to hurt you, I… I can own that. I…” He lets out this shaky breath. “I did it because I knew it would hurt you and I can’t take that back. I can’t take any of the things I did. And you… you have every right to hate me. Every right to never want to see me again.” 

“I don’t hate you,” Connor says quickly. 

“You probably should.”

“Maybe.”

Evan’s still crying. “I wish I had a way to make this right,” he manages to choke out. “I… I… I want to make this right.”

Connor blinks. Looks at his shoes. 

He hates seeing Evan cry. 

He hates it so much. 

“It is what it is,” Connor says quietly, because that’s… 

He keeps saying that to himself. 

He’s been telling himself that for months now. 

“I’d do anything to take it all back,” Evan says, his voice desperate. “I swear, I am just so fucking sorry.”

“Okay,” says Connor quietly. He lets out a sigh that’s a little more frustrated than he means it to be. Rubs his face with his hands. “I just… fuck, I’m overreacting, I know I’m overreacting. This shouldn’t be the thing that hurts the most, after everything else you-”

He stops abruptly. 

Looks at Evan, whose face is pale and sad, his eyes glassy. 

“After everything else I did,” Evan continues dully. “After everything else I did to you.”

Connor shakes his head. “You were sick.”

“So were you,” Evan counters immediately. “You were barely a month out of the fucking hospital, Connor, you were… I shouldn’t have left, I should have-”

“It is what it is,” Connor interrupts. “It’s… we don’t have to talk about it.”

Evan frowns a little. “Connor, I-”

“I don’t want to talk about it,” Connor says, hating how his voice comes out rough and ragged. “I don’t…” 

Evan looks at him. Connor sighs. 

Changes the subject. 

“How’s therapy? Last time we talked about it, you said that Oliver’s a good fit and that working with him is good. That’s… that’s still good?”

Evan’s eyes widen. He nods. “Yeah. Yeah, I think so, yeah.”

Connor shrugs. “You’re… you’re here to get better,” he points out, a little awkwardly. “You… it’s going to be hard work but you’re doing it, you…” He swallows hard. “It won’t change everything that happened, it won’t fix it all, but it… you said you wanted to make this right and this is a good start. So. That’s something?”

Evan looks at him, something in his face softening. “Yeah,” he says quietly. “That’s something.”

* * *

Connor didn’t stay long, but Evan was so fucking relieved to see him that he didn’t even care. He thanked him at least ten times for coming. Apologized at least two dozen more times. 

Connor said he would come back next week and Evan believed him. 

And that was… something. 

He still felt totally anxious that he had ruined everything, wrecked whatever was left of his relationship with Connor by being honest with him, but Connor said he would come back and Evan had to just… trust him. 

It wasn’t terribly easy. 

But it also wasn’t as hard as Evan was afraid it would be. Connor swore he would come back, so Evan chose to believe him. 

Even though at this moment it felt mostly like Evan was just kidding himself. 

Connor shouldn’t forgive him. Evan knew that. But he was asking Connor to do it anyway. 

The whole ordeal made Evan realize that he had been avoiding another difficult apology he needed to make. He had apologized to former coworkers and friends from Schneider & Weiss. He had reached out to his parents and Connor’s family and the bookstore kids, to Alex and Mattie, to Mr. Abrahamson, to Andi and even to Charlie. 

But Evan hadn’t apologized to Sabrina. 

And part of him knew it was because… Evan knew he had been cruel to her. He had dropped their friendship rather than let her in on how unwell he had become, let her help or support him. He couldn’t… 

Something about their history made Evan completely unable to accept her concern and lash out… And he needed to apologize to her. 

“She was… my best friend for a long time, both before and after she was my girlfriend,” Evan said. “I said… I accused her of still having feelings for me, of not letting go and told her the guy she married was basically a rebound and. I don’t even believe that. I just said it because I knew it would hurt her.” 

“Why?”

Evan sighed. “The same reason I fucked Garrett. Because… Because I was hurting and I wanted. I wanted someone else to hurt the way I did. Because… it felt like it was the only thing I could control. Everything else was… getting out of hand, but I could control who I hurt.” Evan wiped his nose awkwardly. “I need to apologize to her. She was… she was trying to help, even if I didn’t like it, she wasn’t trying to hurt me.”

Oliver seemed to agree. “An apology would probably be a good place to start.”

So Evan spent his screen time over the next few days crafting an email to Sabrina. 

It… sucked. Evan hated it. He didn’t want to come across all woe-is-me or needy, but he also didn’t want to act as if his mental health hadn’t been a huge factor. It had been. He never would have lashed out quite so aggressively if he had been fine, if he had been sober, if he had been okay. 

He let her know where he was. Why he was there. 

He apologized for all of the things he had said to her. Apologized for how he had treated her and how callous he had been when she was just trying to help him. He apologized for always taking her for granted, for belittling her relationship with Graham, for accusing her of only ever criticizing him. He apologized for saying she was pathetic and still in love with him, and Evan told her he knew that wasn’t really true. 

He didn’t really expect he would get a response back, but Evan figured… 

It was better to try and fail than not to try at all. 

Even if it hurt. Even if it sucked. 


	131. ONE HUNDRED AND THIRTY

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> "You don’t choose to fall in love, so I guess you don’t choose to fall out of love, either.”

Connor’s stupidly on edge for the next few days and it’s driving him fucking nuts. He feels like an exposed nerve and everything’s getting to him, every stupid little annoyance leaves him feeling like he wants to punch something. 

He’s so fucking on edge that he chews Maureen out for something that absolutely isn’t her fault and makes her cry, which honestly makes him feel like he’d just drop-kicked a puppy. 

Christ, he’s such a fucking asshole sometimes. 

He apologizes profusely and tells Maureen to take an extra long lunch break to make up for it. When she gets back from her break, she brings him a mango smoothie. 

“You’re obviously having a really shitty week.”

“I’m so fucking sorry, Maureen, you didn’t deserve me going off at you.”

Maureen frowns a little. “When did you last see your therapist?”

Connor winces. “I’ve been kinda busy,” he says, his voice small. 

Maureen looks sympathetic but her voice is firm. “Whatever it was that happened last week,” she says, “I think you need to properly talk it out. You should call your therapist.”

Connor knows she’s right. 

He manages to get an appointment for the next morning. 

When he shows up, Praveed is Praveed. He’s wearing slippers that look like giant stuffed animals and he takes a seat in his usual armchair, cross-legged like a pretzel. He offers Connor a peanut butter cup then asks how he’s been holding up. 

“I’m fine,” Connor says, but at Praveed’s skeptical look, he relents. “Okay, I’m not fine, I’m really fucking pissed off and it’s pissing me off.”

“You’re pissed off about being pissed off?”

“I got some news I didn’t really want to know,” Connor says, trying to explain. “And every since then I’ve just been… so angry. At Evan for telling me, at myself for being upset about it, at… everything. Everyone. I yelled at Maureen yesterday. I never yell at Maureen, she’s a total sweetheart. I’m just… really frustrated and I hate being so angry. It makes me stupid. I do stupid things when I’m angry.”

“Like what?” Praveed asks, his voice calm. 

Connor frowns. “Like drink a bottle of whisky and eat nearly a dozen weed brownies because I don’t want to think about it.”

Praveed’s eyebrows raise. “Okay, I gotta know what made you so mad.”

“Evan slept with Garrett.”

Praveed looks confused for a moment, then like he remembers something. “Garrett’s the one who used to have Maureen’s job, right? The one who quit with no notice when you were first taking over the bookstore?”

“That’s the one,” Connor says darkly. “They ran into each other at Evan’s work holiday party and… yeah, Evan slept with him. Even though he knew all about Garrett’s assholery, he knew that Garrett had just up and quit and it was the beginning of me kind of losing it the first year I had the bookstore, he…” Connor crosses his arms. Sighs. “He could have slept with anyone else. Anyone else. But he decided to sleep with Garrett because he knew it would hurt me. And that… that hurts. That he hated me so fucking much that he wanted to hurt me. Everything else… everything else wasn’t intentional, but this…” Connor sighs again. “He said he didn’t want it to be hanging over him as this big secret that I didn’t know about, but I kind of wish he just hadn’t told me at all. I hate this. I hate knowing this.”

Praveed frowns. Nods. “I can see how you’d see it like that,” he says matter-of-factly. He looks thoughtful. “Have you talked to Evan since he told you about Garrett?”

“On Sunday,” Connor says flatly. “I usually visit Wednesdays and Saturdays, but I skipped Saturday because I was super hungover, so I visited on Sunday.” He laughs humorlessly. “I mean, I was hungover on Sunday as well, and on Saturday night I made a total dick of myself in front of Nate, which is just awesome.”

Praveed’s eyebrows raise. “Who’s Nate?”

Connor blinks. “Oh. Nate’s, uh… I’ve been seeing him for a few months.”

Praveed’s eyebrows raise even further. “A few months?”

“We met in January,” Connor says, feeling thoroughly embarrassed. “And we’ve been… hanging out. Seeing each other. Coffee, drinks, dinners, that sort of thing. It’s… he’s nice. It’s kind of casual and slow and-”

“You’ve been seeing this guy since January,” Praveed points out. “Since before you and Evan started talking again. What does Evan think about Nate?”

“Evan doesn’t know,” Connor says immediately. “And I’d like to keep it that way. Nate’s not…” He sighs. “I don’t think it’s serious. Or at least it’s not serious enough to tell Evan. And I don’t want to hurt him.”

Praveed looks even more skeptical now. “Evan took a risk telling you about Garrett because he didn’t want there to be secrets between you, dude. And you’re not telling him that you have a whole-ass boyfriend.”

“Nate’s not my boyfriend.”

Praveed rolls his eyes. “From the sounds of things, he’s not  _ not _ your boyfriend.”

“That’s… Nate isn’t the point here,” Connor says, irritated. “Neither is Evan fucking Garrett. The point is that I’m pissed off and it’s getting in the way of being a functioning fucking human being and I want that to stop.” Connor rolls his eyes. “And if you tell me to take deep breaths and go on walks I will probably punch something.”

Praveed looks thoughtful. “We’ve talked in the past about how you struggled with anger as a teenager,” he says. “How in retrospect, most of that anger might have been you trying to figure out a way to deal with other negative emotions. Not that anger isn’t a perfectly valid emotion but it might not be the only thing that’s going on here.” He leans forward a little. “I think it’s also worth pointing out that you haven’t  _ really _ been angry with Evan, ever since he left last summer. And you’ve got every reason to be.”

“I knew he wasn’t doing great,” Connor says, feeling his stomach churn uncomfortably. “When he left, I knew he wasn’t… he wasn’t well, that me getting so sick had… had hurt him. I was… worried and sad and…” Connor lets out a shaky sigh. “I was scared for him. I was scared he’d hurt himself.”

“But you weren’t angry at him for leaving you,” Praveed points out. “Even though he left you a month after you got out of a coma, when you were still having trouble doing basic things like walking and showering on your own. You weren’t angry about that?”

Connor shrugs helplessly. “I… I mean, I wasn’t happy about it, I was…”

Praveed nods gently. “If you really weren’t angry about Evan leaving, why not?”

“Because it would have been a lie if he stayed.”

Praveed tilts his head. “Say more about that.”

Connor sighs, another shaky sigh. Feels his eyes sting. “He… Evan stopped loving me. He fell out of love with me, or maybe he never really loved me, he just  _ thought _ he did and realized after everything that whatever he felt for me just… wasn’t enough. So he made the right call for… for both of us. He shouldn’t have just stuck around because I was sick.” Connor sighs again. “People keep saying that he was cruel to leave when I needed him, but I… it would have been crueler for him to have stayed and pretended because he felt like he had to. You don’t… you don’t choose to fall in love, so I guess you don’t choose to fall out of love, either.”

“What makes you think that Evan stopped loving you?” Praveed asks. 

Connor thinks back to last August, to Evan sitting at his kitchen table and telling him it was over. 

_ “Did you ever love me?” _

_ “We don’t trust each other anymore. I don’t trust you, and you don’t trust me. There’s nothing here worth fixing. So I think we’re done here.” _

He feels like he’s being stabbed in the heart. 

It’s like all the anger that’s been boiling inside him drains out and he’s just…

Devastated. 

“I don’t know,” Connor says after a while. He runs his hand through his hair. “I… either he stopped loving me, or he never really did. It’s one of those.”

Praveed frowns a little. “I’d like to challenge that. It’s possible it isn’t quite that simple.” He tilts his head slightly. “You’ve said that Evan’s expressed regret for leaving you since the two of you have been speaking again.”

“He’s a good person,” Connor says. “Maybe he just regrets leaving when I was still so sick.”

“Do you still love him?”

“Yes,” Connor says immediately. “But I’m trying not to. Because it just hurts too fucking much.”

* * *

Connor came back. Again and again, he kept coming back to visit and each time, Evan felt a little bit better. A little more confident, a little less like it could all disappear at any moment. 

And… he started to feel a little better too. It happened really slowly. So slowly that Evan had hardly noticed until one day, maybe a week after he turned thirty, Evan realized he did not want to die. 

He wasn’t about to go all Ebenezer Scrooge, life-is-beautiful-don’t-waste-it anytime soon but. Evan woke up one morning and his first thought wasn’t how much he wished he hadn’t woken up and that… felt huge. Unbelievably huge.

“I guess I didn’t expect that I… that I could actually feel better?”

“Why does that surprise you?” Oliver asked him, grinning a little. 

“Because I… it’s like. Always been this thing, lurking, since I was… like thirteen. And there have been times where I thought it was gone before and then it came back swinging and… It’s weird.”

Oliver smiled at him. “I’m not going to lie to you, there’s still a lot of work ahead of you… but you should absolutely celebrate this.”

Evan wiped his eyes, surprised to see he was… crying. He was fucking crying. He was always fucking crying now. “I know it’s not like. It’s not like I’m just. Fixed now or-or whatever but… I really thought I was just going to want to die all the time until I actually managed to do it. I really, genuinely thought it would just be… like that. For forever. That I couldn’t get better, that I was just broken and… even if this is as far as it goes, even if this is it… I can. I can change? I don’t have to just… just wait around until I feel miserable enough to actually try to die? It’s… it feels sort of. Weird. Bizzare. But good.”

Oliver grinned massively at Evan. 

When Connor next visited, Evan felt like a little kid bursting to show his mom the 100% he’d gotten on his spelling test. Connor seemed to pick up that something was different, because he gave Evan a sort of quizzical look. “What’s going on?” He said, smiling back. 

“Oh. Nothing,” Evan said, shrugging. “Uh. Just… I don’t want to die today?”

Connor smiled at him, this big beautiful wide smile that took over his whole face. “You don’t?”

Evan shook his head. “I don’t? I… I didn’t even realize it at first? But like. I dunno, it almost feels like I’m bragging and this is the, like, dumbest thing to brag about but. I don’t want to die today. And I wanted to tell you.”

Connor smiled super big at Evan, then he reached out and held Evan’s hand tightly and they just smiled at each other for a moment. 

“I know it… like we’re still, like, not okay or whatever,” Evan pressed on, still holding onto Connor’s hand. “And I am still really fucking sorry that I hurt you. But… you’re kind of the only person I wanted to tell? I know that’s probably dumb but… It feels. Like it matters?”

“It does,” Connor said, smiling a little sadly at Evan. “It really fucking does.”

It was a relatively nice day outside, sunny and mild, so Evan got permission to head out into the small green space that surrounded the building with Connor. 

It felt weird being outside, but nice. Not that Evan hadn’t been outside at all, but he hadn’t seen a properly sunny day in ages. It was nice. 

“Can I say something weird?” Evan asked as he and Connor found a bench on the lawn to sit on. Evan tilted his face up, trying to get as much of the buttery spring sunshine as he could. It was warm and nice and part of Evan’s brain was cracking up laughing at the idea that he was out here trying to basically photosynthesize. When he was four, he’d told a preschool class that he wanted to be a pine tree when he grew up. 

He only just remembered. 

Funny, really. 

His Hebrew name, Oren, meant pine tree. 

“I can’t think of a single weird thing we haven’t said to each other already,” Connor said to Evan, his voice gentle, almost teasing. “Considering the first thing you said to me when we started talking again was ‘It’s fine, honestly. I die all the time,’ I’m not sure anything else you have to say is gonna be that weird.”

Evan swallowed hard. “You remember the first thing I said to you?”

Connor gave him a twisted smile. “Dude, it was… pretty memorable.”

He had a point. 

“What’s the weird thing?” Connor said then. 

Evan sighed. Cleared his throat. Tilted up his head and closed his eyes, unsure how this would land. “It’s just… I really missed this?”

“The sun?” Connor said, “Because it’s supposed to rain a lot next week -”

“No,” Evan said, opening his eyes again and looking straight at Connor. “ _ You _ . I missed you. I missed hanging out with you.” He cleared his throat awkwardly. “I know I fucked it all up when I left. And I don’t expect that you will ever totally forgive me for the shit I did… but. It really means a lot that you still care. That you’ve been visiting me in here, that you… That you’re still here. And I… I missed you. I just really missed you. So it’s nice to, like. Be hanging out again. Because I missed you.”

Connor nodded, smiling a little. “I missed you too,” he said quietly. 

When Connor had to go, he walked Evan back to the building, sticking around for a minute near the front desk to say goodbye. He paused suddenly, smiling broadly at Evan. 

“What?” Evan said, wondering what might have caused the sudden smile but wanting desperately to capture it, save it, put it somewhere to keep it safe. 

“You don’t want to die today,” Connor said, still smiling. 

“Yeah.”

He shook his head, this huge dopey grin on his face. “Your freckles are back.”

“What?” Evan said, not following. 

Connor pointed to the bridge of Evan’s nose, very briefly poking at the skin just under

his eye.“You get freckles on your nose and cheeks when you go out in the sun. They faded over the winter but... They came back.” He pulled Evan into an unexpected one armed hug. “And you don’t want to die today.”

“Yeah,” Evan said faintly. He blinked a few times, feeling like his heart might just burst in his chest. “Will I see you Saturday?”

Connor nodded. “See you Saturday.”


	132. ONE HUNDRED AND THIRTY-ONE

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> "Glad to hear you’re getting the help that you need. I hope you’re able to take this time to focus on getting well and looking after yourself. "

There’s a knock on the door of Connor’s apartment on Saturday morning. He opens it to reveal Graham standing there, holding a bag from the bakery near his work that does those awesome cupcakes. 

That in itself isn’t super unusual. Graham stopping by with food isn’t unusual. 

What’s unusual is that behind him is his wife. 

Sabrina stands there with her arms folded, her mouth set in a hard line. 

She clearly doesn’t want to be here and honestly, Connor’s not sure he wants her here, either. 

“Hi,” says Graham, a little hesitantly. “We were hoping we could talk to you.”

“Sure,” says Connor, as calmly as he can, because as much as Graham is his friend, one of his closest friends now, he’s not really looking forward to getting chewed out by Sabrina again. 

Then again, Graham wasn’t exactly thrilled with Sabrina for yelling at Connor, so if they’re both here together, it’s less likely that things will devolve into a full on screaming match. 

Then again, if Sabrina’s here with Graham, then clearly there’s something she wants to say that Connor’s not going to like and Graham is just trying to soften the blow. 

Connor squares his shoulders and opens the door wider. “Come on in.”

When they’re all inside, Graham sits at the kitchen table immediately. Sabrina hovers around for a moment, like she’s trying to keep some kind of power or upper hand by not sitting down, but eventually she takes a seat next to her husband. Graham clings onto her hand and Connor sees him squeeze it gently, carefully, almost like a warning. 

This should be fun. 

“Can I get you coffee?” Connor asks, doing his best impression of a good host. Graham nods and thanks him but Sabrina shakes her head, her face still set in a frown. 

Connor dutifully makes a pot of coffee, then puts three mugs on the table along with the pot and cream and sugar, just in case Sabrina changes her mind. Almost automatically, she’s making a cup, and Connor feels this sense of vindication. 

They sit there in silence for a while. 

“So,” says Connor, breaking the silence. 

“What’s going on with Evan?” Sabrina demands. 

Connor’s chest tightens. “He’s where he needs to be,” he says simply.

“He emailed me,” says Sabrina, face stormy. “Saying he’s... in a treatment center, getting full time help. He said that you... you looked after him, you...”

She doesn’t continue. Graham squeezes her hand again, then looks at Connor. “I figured that it must have all happened around your birthday,” he says, his voice careful. “When I stopped by and Evan was there.” He looks at Sabrina for a moment, then back to Connor. “Sabrina and Evan haven’t spoken in months. He emailed her out of the blue last week.”

Evan hadn’t mentioned that to Connor, but honestly he’s not surprised. He’s known for a while that Evan and Sabrina weren’t speaking, that Evan had said some upsetting things to Sabrina. Graham had been furious, completely and utterly furious, and while he’d done his best to keep it from Connor, he hadn’t quite been able to stop the anger and hurt leaking out. 

“What did he say?” Connor asks, trying to keep his voice even. 

“He apologized,” Sabrina says, not looking at Connor. “For some of the things he said.”

“And do you believe him?”

Sabrina shrugs. Still doesn’t look at Connor. “You know Evan. He... he knows where to hit where it hurts.”

Connor has never agreed with Sabrina more. In almost any other circumstance, it’d be funny that they’re in absolute agreement. 

“Yeah,” Connor says with a nod. 

Sabrina finally looks up, her chin set defiantly as she meets Connor’s eyes. “I just don’t get why on earth he’d forgive you,” she says, her voice dripping with disdain. “You cheated on him. You broke his heart. I can’t believe you’d do that to him.”

Graham’s eyes flash with annoyance. He looks at Sabrina. “Babe,” he says immediately. “We talked about this.”

“I don’t care what we talked about,” Sabrina snaps. “Someone needs to call Connor on this and since everyone else seems to think he’s the victim here-”

“He was in a coma!”

“And that makes it okay to fuck some Canadian?” Sabrina demands.

Graham looks at Connor, something conflicted in his expression. “You said it was complicated,” he says, sounding a little pained. “That it wasn’t... it wasn’t as simple as it seemed.”

“From where I’m standing, it’s pretty fucking black and white,” Sabrina snaps. “Either you fucked him, or you didn’t. Did you sleep with Parker?”

“Why does that matter to you?” Connor shoots back. “You’re not even speaking to Evan right now.”

“I want to get my facts straight,” Sabrina replies, glaring at him. “Evan reached out and apologized and I need to know if you fucked this guy or you didn’t.”

“Why? What difference does it make to you?”

“It matters if Evan lied to me,” says Sabrina. 

Connor actually laughs at that. “Oh please,” he says immediately. “Like Evan’s never lied to you before.”

The room goes silent. 

Connor rubs his face. Runs a hand through his hair. 

He’s exhausted. 

“I might forgive Evan,” Sabrina says, her voice full of barely contained rage. “I haven’t decided yet.”

“Of course you’ll forgive Evan,” Graham mumbles, so quietly that Connor’s not completely sure he’s heard her.

“But it doesn’t mean I need to forgive you,” Sabrina continues, either ignoring Graham or just not acknowledging his words. “I said I’d try, because for some reason you’re important to both Evan and Graham, but honestly? You can’t even give me a straight answer here. So why should I forgive you?”

“I don’t give a fuck if you forgive me or not,” Connor says immediately, almost without thinking, and it’s only as he says the words that he realises they’re true. “You can hate me as much as you want, Sabrina, and I won’t lose any sleep at night.”

Sabrina stares at him. Blinks. 

Then stands up. 

“This was a mistake,” she says, looking at Graham and frowning. 

Graham looks from Connor to Sabrina, his expression helpless. “Guys. Come on.”

“We’re leaving,” Sabrina announces, taking Graham’s arm. “This was a mistake.”

Graham looks completely torn. He looks at Connor, something pleading in his eyes. 

“Evan and I are trying to be friends,” Connor says, trying to tamp down the swirling, battling emotions trying to fight their way to the surface. “We’re trying to put all of that behind us and be friends. And right now, all that matters is Evan getting well. I don’t need anyone else sticking their nose in our business.”

“I get that,” says Graham, his voice cautious and careful. 

“I don’t see why you’re acting like you even care,” Sabrina spits out. “Like you care about Evan when you hurt him-”

“I’m not talking to you about this anymore,” says Connor firmly. He goes to open the front door. “You were leaving, right?”

Sabrina stops. Glares at him. 

Takes Graham’s arm again and walks out the front door.

* * *

Evan logged into his email account during his designated screen time on Tuesday evening to see there was an email waiting for him from Sabrina Smith-Patel. 

Her new last name still sat a little funny with Evan. 

He only got thirty minutes online daily so Evan didn’t really have time to debate whether or not to open it. He clicked the email immediately. 

It was… short. 

_ Dear Evan,  _

_ Glad to hear you’re getting the help that you need. I hope you’re able to take this time to focus on getting well and looking after yourself.  _

_ I went and saw Connor the other day. He still won’t give me a straight answer about what happened with Parker. I really want to believe you, Evan, and I really want to be able to forgive you, but after everything I’m not sure I can. At least not right now. You really hurt me and I’m just not able to see past that. _

_ I really am glad to hear you’re doing better.  _

_ Sabrina  _

Evan felt a bit… defeated reading the short email she had sent. 

He knew, objectively, that he had really fucking hurt her. He knew, realistically, that Connor was the exception not the rule when it came to forgiving Evan’s hurtful actions. 

But it still stung. 

Sabrina had been his best friend since they were twenty. Nearly ten years, though not always consistent. She was important to him, and Evan had thrown her away. He knew it was his own damn fault but it still hurt.

He wanted to ask Connor when he and Sabrina had seen each other, but based on the tone of the email Sabrina had sent Evan, he thought it might be best if he left that one alone. He had a suspicion Connor wouldn’t want to talk about it. 

He’d never really liked Sabrina anyway. He was probably just pleased to be rid of her. 

Oliver seemed to think that this was still good progress. Evan had reached out to make amends. Sabrina had responded, and even though her response had been to tell him she didn’t forgive him, not now, it was better than no response at all. 

Evan had frowned at Oliver and said that looking on the bright side of things had never been his strongest trait, and Oliver had laughed and said that wasn’t what he meant. “Oh you’re allowed to have whatever feelings you want,” he said, still smiling. “Be annoyed. Be pissed. Just… give her time. Space. You’ve done your part, and now the both of you need to take time and figure out what comes next.” 

Evan thought that fucking sucked but he didn’t argue. 

He was still sort of sulking around after Sabrina’s email later that week when he was told to go to the front desk because he had a visitor. Evan wasn’t expecting anyone, but he dutifully reported to sign the person in for a visit. The man waiting didn’t look familiar in anyway. He was dressed like a bike messenger. Still had on a helmet. Evan opened his mouth to say that somehow this man had given the wrong name to the staff when the bike messenger spoke. “Are you Evan Hansen?”

“Yes,” Evan said, bewildered. 

The man handed him a thick manila envelope. “You’ve been served.” He walked away. 

Evan blinked at the envelope in his hands, confused. He pulled open the seal and pulled out a thick wad of legal documentation. His heart jumped into his throat. 

He felt fucking sick. 

McLaren, Hunt, & Simon were suiting Evan for breach of contract. 

Fuck. 

Fuck. 

His hands started to shake so badly that he ended up dropping the file to the ground, papers scattering everywhere. Elena, the CNA he liked, helped him to gather them up, then patted his shoulder reassuringly when he explained what the papers were. He took the packet to his room and read over it twice, trying to see any glaring holes he could manipulate, any way he could get out of this, but it was like his brain was molasses. He couldn’t focus. He was getting fucking sued.

He was getting fucking sued by Richard McLaren because he had quit without appropriate notice after he slept with Richard and blew up his entire life and tried to kill himself. 

Fucking hell. 

He knew it was too good to be true to think he had gotten out of that one scot free. 

Evan was so stupid. 

He was so fucking stupid. 

He didn’t have the sort of money they wanted from him. He didn’t have any assets. This would destroy his reputation, make it impossible to get a job, bankrupt him. Fuck. 

Fuck. 

Evan stewed in this anxiety for a few days. Oliver tried to get him to focus on why he had decided to leave the job, but it didn’t really help Evan very much. “It was a stupid decision, I should have just taken a sabbatical or something.”

“Did you really want to go back to working for a man who assaulted you?” Oliver asked him kindly. 

“I’d already been working for him,” Evan said bitterly. 

Oliver frowned. “Richard had assaulted you before this February?”

Evan shook his head. “No he… not in February. He, like, groped me when I was an intern a few years ago.”

Oliver looked embarrassed. “Maybe I misunderstood,” He said, uncrossing his legs. “I apologize, it wasn’t my intention to put a label you hadn’t named on your experience.”

“He didn’t assault me,” Evan said. “I mean, I was… stupid but. I went out with him. I went home with him. I fucked him, you know?”

Oliver nodded. “Sure. I apologize, truly, Evan.”

“Why did you think that?”

Oliver looked uncomfortable, but then he smiled sympathetically. “From where I’m standing, the whole incident seemed… premeditated. Coerced.”

“But… but I went home with him,” Evan said meekly. 

“After he took you out to a bar and you drank until you were so drunk you were actively imagining that you were having a conversation with Connor,” Oliver said, still frowning. “To me, that wouldn’t constitute a consensual act. But again, I am sorry. I didn’t mean to assign a label to your experience that you wouldn’t. I won’t do that again.”

Evan felt sick, Oliver’s words sinking in a little. “It… so you mean. I. He… It wasn’t totally my fault?”

Oliver looked pained. “I don’t think it was, Evan. I don’t think it was your fault at all.”

“But I…” He swallowed hard. “Shit.”

“I am so truly sorry to hear that this man is attempting to insert himself into your life yet again,” Oliver said. “And I want you to know that you have my full support to respond to this however will make you feel the most safe.”

Evan nodded. 

“I don’t… I don’t even know what to do,” Evan said, feeling so… stupid. Defeated. “I never… I never should have worked for him. I fucked up and now I’m. Really paying for it.”

Oliver frowned. “This is not because of a mistake you made. In my opinion, you are not the responsible party here. And I hope you are able to get through this without damaging your reputation, because you worked so hard to establish it. And I am here. For whatever you need as this unfolds.” 

When Connor next came to visit, the news of the lawsuit spilled out of Evan before he had even taken a moment to sit down. “Richard is suing me.”

“What?” Connor said, his eyes huge and angry.

“He’s suing me for breach of contract.”

“What the fuck?” Connor said, his face furious, and Evan felt like he could just dissolve on the spot. “How can he do that?”

“I fucking quit without notice less than six months into a three year contract,” Evan said. “He… he’s right. He can totally come after me for this. Fuck. Fuck.”

“Okay,” Connor said, looking concerned. “Okay, it’s… it’ll be alright.”

“I know you don’t want to hear this and I know it’s my own damn fault,” Evan said, feeling his eyes sting, “But I am definitely freaking out right now. Like. I don’t… I don’t know what to do. I am royally fucked, Connor. This is going to cost me everything and… There is no way I’ll ever work again if he wins, and I don’t have…. Anything but my fucking name, I. Fuck. I’m so stupid.” Evan folded his arms and put his head down on the table where they were sitting, hiding his face, trying not to burst into tears in front of Connor. “I am so fucking stupid.”

“You’re not,” Connor said fiercely. “This… Richard is a bastard. We… It’s gonna be alright.”

“It is on me though. It absolutely is. I backed out of a three year contract not even six months in,” Evan said mournfully. “Without notice. And he has proof. And I don’t have any chance of fighting this, not from in here. I don’t have any resources or-or documents, I’m only allowed thirty minutes of screentime I am so fucked I am seriously so fucked I could lose my fucking license over this.”

Connor looked unbelievably pissed. “I… I can talk to my dad, if you want?”

“What?” Evan said, his heart still racing. 

“You don’t have resources in here,” Connor said, “But my dad. Like. He’s good. You’ve said he was good, and I trust your legal judgment okay? I’ll talk to my dad. Richard is a prick and… and this is not on you. You couldn’t go back to working there after what happened, and Richard is just being petty. And. Fuck. I’m so sorry, Evan. But. I’ll talk to my dad. Maybe he can, like, help or something?”

“You’d really do that?” Evan said, eyes tearing up properly. He’d thought… he’d thought Connor was angry at  _ him _ . Not at Richard. He hadn’t expected Connor to want to help. 

“Don’t be stupid, of course I will,” Connor said. “Richard McLaren is not going to end your career Evan, okay? We’ll figure this out.”

Evan sniffled pitifully. “You don’t have to help me,” He said softly. “I… I appreciate it but you don’t have to -”

Connor frowned at him. “Evan. Come on. I want to help.”

* * *

Connor meets his dad at a diner on the outskirts of town immediately after leaving the treatment center. His dad hugs him when he arrives. He’s wearing a polo shirt and khakis and a blazer and looks comfortable and pleased to see him. 

He doesn’t look out of place at this diner, which surprises Connor. 

He’d gotten used to his dad in suits, taking him to fancy four star restaurants, but this is… nice. 

“How’s everything going?” his dad asks as they look through the menus, sounding genuinely interested. “You said you were visiting Evan?”

Connor sighs. “Yeah,” he says, a little hesitantly. “He’s freaking out because Richard McLaren is suing him for breach of contract.”

Larry’s eyes narrow immediately. He pulls out his phone. “Like hell he is.” 

Connor feels something in his chest release. “Oh thank god.” His dad looks at him and he smiles a little sheepishly. “I was hoping you’d say that.”

“Richard fucking McLaren isn’t winning this time,” says his dad, sounding genuinely pissed off. “It’s not happening. People have been putting up with his bullshit for too long, it’s time someone knocked him down a couple of pegs.”

“What are you going to do?” Connor asks, curious. 

“Whatever I need to,” says Larry smoothly, entering something into his phone then putting it into his pocket. “I’ll make a couple of calls, get everything in order, then go talk with him.” He grins, this almost feral looking expression. “Honestly? I’ve been waiting for an opportunity to tear this guy apart for years.”

Okay, Connor’s definitely curious now. “I know he’s an asshole,” he says, leaning in a bit, “but why do  _ you _ hate him?”

Connor’s dad looks him straight in the eye. “Because he’s a morally bankrupt fucker who paints himself as this environmentalist hero while screwing people over in any way he can.” 

“I mean, fair,” says Connor, certain there’s more to it. “But is there something in particular he did?”

Larry blinks. His shoulders slump a little. “When you were in college,” he says, something careful in his tone, “I took a junior associate along with me to New York to work on a case together against McLaren. Adam was a good kid. Smart, driven… a little awkward and kind of shy in real life, but dynamite in a courtroom. We were supposed to grab a drink in the hotel bar the night before we met with the opposing counsel but I… took a phone call or did something else, I don’t really remember.” He sighs. “Next morning, we meet the opposing counsel and the kid goes pale as a ghost when he meets McLaren. And McLaren just smirks at me, so fucking triumphant… well, you can guess what happened that night.”

“Shit, really?” Connor says, even though part of him isn’t surprised. 

“Adam bombed in court,” Larry continues, his expression dark. “He was completely thrown by the fact that this guy he’d slept with the night before was up against him.” Larry shrugs a little. “We’d been considering him for junior partner, but that didn’t happen when he lost us the case. I… I chewed him out about it, I was so pissed off.” He looks almost guilty. “Looking back, I should have… been more understanding. Adam was smart and talented and put on a lot of bravado but he was never the same after that. It was like he just lost his confidence. Adam’s not practicing law anymore and that’s a waste of talent. He was talented and he could have gone far. If it hadn’t been for Richard fucking McLaren.”

“Shit,” says Connor again, frowning. “That’s… that’s bullshit.”

Connor’s dad looks defiant. “I could have handled that situation differently,” he says, sounding a little pained. “Won’t be making that mistake again. This time, McLaren isn’t getting away with it. Not on my watch.”


	133. ONE HUNDRED AND THIRTY-TWO

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> “I’m just a slightly reformed asshole, stupid enough to think he might be able to change the world.”

Larry Murphy turned up at the treatment center a few days after Evan’s conversation with Connor, well dressed and smiling. Evan swallowed hard upon seeing him, because honestly Larry Murphy still kind of intimidated Evan. Made him feel inadequate, like a little kid who had been playacting being a lawyer. He greeted Evan with a firm handshake. Evan was especially aware of how ripped up and ragged his fingernails were. 

“Hi,” Evan said. “Thank you so much for coming, I really appreciate it, I know it’s a lot to ask -”

Larry’s smile turned somewhat… Evan didn’t know what. It wasn’t the professional 

veneer Evan expected.. He looked… almost concerned. But Evan dismissed that a few moments later when the look was gone. Trick of the light. “Evan. Why don’t we sit down?”

Fuck, Evan thought, that could not mean good news. He led Larry to a table and sat 

across from him, trying to brace himself for the worst. Trying to prepare himself to learn his career was over, that he was going to be in massive amounts of debt, that he was fucked. 

“How have you been doing?” Larry asked. 

Evan stared. “Well. I… better. I guess.” He picked at his cuticles. He didn’t understand why the fuck they were making small talk. “How are you?”

Larry smiled a little. Nodded. “I’m well, thank you.”

Evan couldn’t take it. The suspense was killing him. “Did you… I mean. Are you willing to maybe, like, help me out with this McLaren business? I. I realize it’s a lot to ask of you and I swear I will… pay you back or-or return the favor or -”

Larry looked alarmed. “Evan, I apologize. I assumed Connor would have told you after I called him this morning.” 

Evan wasn’t following. “I… I only get phone calls once a day…”

Larry smiled, almost sympathetically. “McLaren is dropping the suit.”

Evan wasn’t expecting  _ that _ . He shook his head, bewildered. “What…? I don’t.” He blinked a few times. “I don’t understand. Why would he do that? He had… he had a case. He had a solid case against me.”

“I took care of it,” Larry said smoothly. 

“I… I don’t understand,” Evan said, feeling completely… lost. He didn’t. He didn’t follow. Evan felt kind of overwhelmed. “Can I… Can I ask what you did to get him to drop the suit?” He asked, still overwhelmed with gratitude and shock and confusion. 

Larry’s face hardened. “I’ve known McLaren for a long time.” 

Evan waited, his heart thudding in his chest. He suddenly feared blackmail or owing Larry Murphy some sort of gargantuan debt for the rest of his life, he feared that Larry was going to turn around and say that now that he had helped Evan, he expected Evan to stay the fuck away from Connor. 

“The legal world isn’t all that big,” Larry went on. He seemed to be choosing his words very carefully. “You’ll find that McLaren has a long history of…Singling out promising young attorneys for his own personal gain. And that it has been something of an open secret for the last decade.”

Evan felt his face grow red. Had Connor told him… had Connor -?

“I obviously can’t speak to your experiences with Richard,” Larry pressed on, his tone efficient, clipped. “But if you were among that number, you would be in very good company. And I reminded Richard that I have been around for a bit longer than he has. I know people. A lot of people.” 

Evan swallowed hard. “Oh.”

“I reminded Richard that there are a lot of people who saw their careers stall out after working under him. And if word were to get out…”

Evan stared. “You threatened to go to the press?”

“Only after I spoke with Levi Nachman, and one of your former colleagues, Asher?”

Evan blinked. “You spoke with them?”

“Apparently Levi knows Asher’s father,” Larry said, “And you know that Levi has a lot of contacts in the LGBT community. Apparently they have been compiling a list of names. The three of us agreed that we’d speak to Richard together. We reminded him that, if provoked, we could name names.  _ Many  _ names. And I won’t pretend I didn’t imply that I could take them to the press. Blow wide open a decade long cover-up of abuses of power.”

Evan felt almost windered. 

“Asher also volunteered to help put together a hostile work environment suit against McLaren…” Larry said, his tone very careful. “Given that you and Richard had already worked together once before.”

Evan opened and closed his mouth a few times. 

“So, the suit has been dropped. And it sounds like McLaren will no longer be one of the managing partners his firm, last I spoke with Levi.”

Evan stared at Larry. “So… he caved? In three days you got him demoted and to drop his suit? Seriously?”

“Yes,” Larry said with a smile. “He caved. You’re in the clear. Richard McLaren will most likely be far too terrified to try anything else.”

Relief swept through Evan. He felt like he could breathe again. “Thank you. Thank you so much, Larry, I… You didn’t have to do that. For me. I… I cannot thank you enough for all of the help you’ve given to me, and I know I… I know I haven’t done anything to deserve it.” 

Larry reached out and put a hand on Evan’s shoulder for the briefest of seconds. Squeezed. Let go. 

Larry looked mildly uncomfortable. “Connor. He cares about you.” He sighed. “And I know I haven’t been there for him in the past. I’ve failed him, as a parent, in the past. I’m trying to be better now.”

Evan nodded. He bit his lip. “I care about him too. I… He’s the most important person in my life.” 

Larry nodded. “I know how much you care about him.” He cleared his throat, obviously not interested in continuing to sit here and discuss feelings. “Honestly, I should be thanking you for giving me a genuine reason to tear Richard McLaren down.”

Evan sort of smiled. “You really hate that guy.”

Larry smiled. “Yes. I really do.”

“Well then… you’re welcome?” 

Larry laughed sharply, surprised. 

Evan felt his face heat up but held Larry’s gaze. 

“While I have you here,” Larry said, his tone softening a little. “I wanted to speak to you about the suit against the hospital…”

Evan nodded, albeit reluctantly. He still didn’t believe he deserved to benefit from that in any way, but he had agreed only because his mom and Connor so desperately wanted him to seek out long term mental health treatment. 

“The hospital wants to avoid a trial.”

“Yeah, no shit,” Evan said, rolling his eyes. “It would be a circus.”

“I know,” Larry said. “But on the off chance we get to that point, I want to make sure there is no possible weak points in our case.”

Evan saw where he was going. “You’re asking me to testify,” he said, voice failing him a little. 

“I know it would be difficult, but -”

“Can I give you a written statement?” Evan asked. “Obviously if you need me in person, I’ll… be there if I can but. Would that work? For now?” He gave Larry a sardonic grin. “Considering where I am?”

Larry nodded. “I think we can work with that.” He smiled slightly. “I appreciate it.”

Evan smiled a little back. “It’s… you have been. Exceedingly kind to me. It’s the least I can do.”

* * *

It’s been raining a lot. Like, a whole lot. Sheets and sheets of water pouring from the sky, washing away the filth of the city streets. 

It’s not like it really affects Connor that much in the grand scheme of things. He lives where he works. He doesn’t have to leave the building if he really doesn’t want to. 

Except that twice a week, he absolutely does, because he wants to see Evan. 

He gets a Lyft door to door, so his time outside is minimal, but still he finds himself getting soaked in the seconds he spends outside getting from the car to the door of the center. He keeps showing up dripping wet, looking like a cat who has unexpectedly found itself in a bathtub. 

On the days where it rains and rains and rains, Evan always shows up with a towel so Connor can dry his hair. 

It’s a stupid, tiny thing, but it makes something inside Connor twist almost happily. 

Because it’s a sign that Evan cares. 

And that’s… something. 

“So did you figure out what you’re doing with Soup Day once summer hits?” Evan asks once Connor’s managed to get most of the rain out of his hair. 

“I’m still working on it,” Connor admits, leaning back in the seat. “But at the moment we’re leaning toward, like, some kind of vegetable curry and rice?”

“Wouldn’t that be too hot for summer?” Evan asks, but he seems interested and genuinely curious, not like he thinks it’s a bad idea.

“On really really hot days, maybe,” Connor says. “But I’ve talked to Otis about it, and talked to some of the homeless shelters, and honestly, the consensus seems to be that a hot meal with lots of vegetables in it is a pretty good move no matter the weather.” 

“That makes sense,” Evan says, nodding. 

“And my vegetable guy says he can get me a good price on fresh fruit,” Connor continues, warming to the subject. “Like, stuff that’s a little bruised and maybe a bit too ugly for selling in stores, but still good and still definitely edible. So I figure, like, a dollar for a mug of curry and rice, some fruit and maybe, like, Kool Aid and water? Just so people are staying hydrated.” He frowns a little, thinking of some of the conversations he’s had with Otis and Maureen about being homeless. “It’s really hard sometimes to make sure you’re drinking enough water when you’re homeless. I’ve been looking into ways to help with that.” 

Evan’s looking at Connor with interest. “What kind of things have you found?” he asks, and his eyes are warm and alive, lit up with something almost like excitement, and Connor just…

Fuck. 

Fuck, it’s good to see Evan like this. 

Engaged. Alive. 

It makes him feel like everything’s going to be okay. 

“I want to maybe look into bulk buying some water bottles,” Connor says. “Something durable and reusable? And then maybe installing, like, a water fountain? Which might take a while, but I like the idea of something that’s there for people to use and they don’t have to feel like they’re imposing or getting in the way by having to ask for it.” He shrugs. “In the interim, I guess I could look at a water cooler, but then we’d have to change the tank and that’s a hassle in the long term.”

“What about just having some jugs of water on a table somewhere?” Evan points out. “Getting a water cooler could be an expensive stop-gap.”

Connor nods. “Yeah, maybe.” He wrinkles his nose. “I’m not really worried so much about the costs. Dad talked to me about the settlement agreement he’s working on with the hospital and it’s, like, completely insane.” He shrugs again. “That money should go toward helping people.”

Evan’s looking at him intently, this fond smile on his face. 

Connor feels his face heat up. 

He doesn’t look away. 

“You’re amazing, you know that?”

Connor shakes his head. “I’m okay,” he says, trying to keep his tone light. “I’m just a slightly reformed asshole, stupid enough to think he might be able to change the world.”

“You’re amazing,” Evan says softly, and he doesn’t stop smiling. 

They could power cities with the brightness of that smile. 

After Nate’s disastrous attempt at cooking back in March, they’ve mostly gone out for dinner whenever they manage to make their schedules match up. But Nate’s been dropping hints about Connor’s cooking for the last few weeks, and while Connor isn’t exactly the best at picking up hints, Nate’s not exactly subtle. 

It’s not that Connor doesn’t want to cook for Nate, it’s just…

It seems like a big step. Like something significant. 

And that makes something inside Connor want to run away screaming. 

Nate’s nice. He’s cute and he’s nice and he’s patient, really fucking patient, and he nearly burned his house down trying to cook for Connor so the least Connor could fucking do is make him some food.

Maybe the lamb shanks he made for Evan last Valentine’s Day. 

Something churns unpleasantly in his chest. 

No. 

He definitely can’t do that. That’s…

No. 

He’s not making those again. He just can’t. 

Even though they were delicious, it’s just…

No. 

Connor ends up settling with his go-to sweet potato curry, adding in some chicken because Nate’s definitely not a vegan. He sets it up in the afternoon on Friday and it’s looking like it’s just about ready when the front door of his apartment opens to reveal Zoe, looking more than a little pissed off. 

“Water in my building stopped working,” she grumbles, brandishing a tote bag. “I’m using your shower.”

Connor doesn’t even have time to say anything before she’s pushed past him and is heading to the bathroom. 

Barely five minutes later, there’s a knock on the door, and Connor’s heart plummets. 

He hasn’t told Zoe about Nate. 

Fuck. 

Fuck. 

Fuck. 

Nate smiles when Connor opens the door. Leans in and kisses him quickly, then holds up a bottle of wine. “Figured I should contribute,” he says cheerfully. “Just as long as you don’t let me anywhere near the stove.”

“No stove required,” Connor shoots back with a smile. “Seriously, I’ll give you some recipes. All my cooking skills are fake, I just know how to use a slow cooker.”

He leads Nate into the kitchen. Nate opens the bottle of wine and says something about letting it breathe, which Connor is honestly really badly at remembering to do, and he’s about to say that when the door to the bathroom opens and Zoe’s standing there in sweatpants and a t-shirt, hair wet and face bare. 

“Um, hello?” says Zoe, her eyes widening in alarm. 

“This is Nate,” Connor says, a little awkwardly. “Nate, this is my sister Zoe.”

Nate looks between the two of them, then lets out this tiny laugh. “Wow, those are some good genes.” He extends his hand for Zoe to shake. “Hi, I am indeed Nate.”

“Nice to meet you,” says Zoe, shaking his hand, looking a little embarrassed and clearly completely floored. “You’re a friend of Connor’s?”

“I like to think so,” Nate says, his tone cheerful. 

Zoe looks at Connor, raising her eyebrows meaningfully. She looks around the kitchen, sniffs the air a little. “I guess you’re here for some of Connor’s famous sweet potato curry?”

“I am,” Nate says with a nod. “I brought wine.” He looks at Connor and smiles a little. “Is Zoe joining us for dinner?”

“I just came to use the shower,” Zoe says, clearly sizing Nate up. “But I won’t say no if you’re offering. You know I can’t cook.”

Nate looks at Connor. There’s something kind of hopeful in his expression. 

Connor looks at Zoe, who’s just smiling triumphantly. 

There is no way he can get out of this. 

“There’s plenty of food,” he says, trying to ignore how fucking weird he feels about having dinner with his sister and this guy he’s seeing who may or may not be his boyfriend, he has no fucking idea. 

“I’ll get the wine glasses,” says Zoe. She moves across the kitchen to where Connor keeps the wine glasses and retrieves them, then pours three glasses of the wine Nate’s brought. She picks up two of them and hands them to Nate and Connor, then goes to get another one. “So,” she says, looking at Nate with interest. “How did you the two of you meet?”

“Well, I managed to stop Connor from falling to his death from a ladder,” says Nate with this fond grin. “Back in January. Then I came back a little later for his phone number.”

Zoe looks absolutely delighted. “So Nate’s a special friend then.” She takes a sip of her wine and wiggles her eyebrows at Connor. “Connor didn’t mention he was seeing anyone.”

“We’ve been taking it slow,” Connor says, a little awkwardly. 

Nate gives Connor this soft smile. “We’re both pretty busy,” he says with a nod. “I’m a middle school teacher. We just did a spring production, which was… an experience.” 

“I can imagine,” says Zoe, smiling even wider. 

“And of course with Connor’s friend Evan being so sick, he’s been pretty busy as well,” Nate continues, in this tone that’s just a little too deliberate to be totally casual. 

Zoe’s eyes widen almost comically. “You know about Evan?”

Nate nods. Connor’s stomach churns uncomfortably. 

“The curry should be ready,” Connor says, trying to change the subject. 

“I think it’s great,” Nate says, looking at Zoe. “Not everyone would be so willing to help out an ex when they’re going through a hard time.” He turns to Connor and smiles, something genuine and soft in his eyes. “Connor’s a really great guy.” 

“He is,” says Zoe, who looks at Connor with a challenging expression. “And he deserves someone who recognizes that about him.” 

In the end, the meal isn’t as awkward as it could be. Nate tells them stories about helping out with the spring production and teaching and Zoe mentions that she sees some of the kids who attend the school, though doesn’t name names for privacy reasons. Zoe seems to really like Nate, and keeps looking at Connor with this bright smile on her face. 

Connor really doesn’t want to admit it, but it’s kind of getting on his nerves, how pleased Zoe is about all of this. 

After they finish the curry, Zoe announces that she’s heading out to get something for dessert. “Considering I crashed the meal, it’s the least I can do,” she says. “Anything you’re allergic to or don’t eat, Nate?”

“I’m allergic to shellfish,” Nate says matter-of-factly. “And morally opposed to the idea of shellfish in a dessert.”

Zoe laughs. “I’m sure I can find something that’s shellfish free.”

With that, she kisses Connor on the cheek then heads out of the apartment, leaving Connor sitting there awkwardly, remembering that ‘shellfish’ was his and Evan’s safeword whenever they decided to tie each other up. 

Fuck. 

Not the kind of thing he should be thinking about when Nate’s sitting at his kitchen table, smiling at him with genuine affection in his striking gray eyes. 

“Your sister’s great,” Nate says once she’s gone. 

“She is,” Connor agrees. He sighs. “I know you were expecting it to be just us-”

“I’m glad she joined us,” Nate interrupts, something serious in his expression. “Jax says that you and your sister are pretty close, especially since you got sick last year. That she looks out for you. I think that’s really great. I’m really glad you have her.”

“We weren’t always this close,” Connor feels like he has to admit. “When we were growing up, I was… kind of an asshole. We only really got close in the last few years, when…”

Connor trails off. Nate frowns a little. “When what?”

Connor shrugs. “When, uh… I became friends with Evan?” he says, a little tentatively. 

Nate’s face falls. “Oh.”

“We all went to high school together,” Connor rushes to explain. “But we didn’t really know each other.” He tries to laugh. “Actually, back in high school Evan had a huge crush on Zoe.”

Nate looks even more confused at that. “Right.”

“I, uh, I… I didn’t really have friends in high school,” Connor says, trying to dig himself out of this hole. “I had friends in college, but we drifted apart after we graduated. So Evan was like my first… I don’t know, proper grown-up friend.” He sighs. “Sorry, you don’t want to hear about my ex-”

“I mean,” Nate interrupts, his voice a little hesitant. “He’s clearly important to you, so…” He pastes on this smile that doesn’t quite reach his gray eyes. “I’d love to meet him someday. When he’s doing a bit better, maybe?”

Connor just stares at him for a moment, blinking in confusion. 

The idea of Nate and Evan in the same place just…

Kind of breaks his brain. 

“Sure,” Connor manages to say. “Yeah, maybe when he’s doing a bit better.”

Nate smiles, and it’s a little more real this time. “My friend Ange is planning to visit me in the city over the summer. We were best friends growing up. Maybe we could all hang out - you, me, Evan and Ange. You said Evan’s bi, right? Ange is single at the moment. They might hit it off.”

Connor feels this awful stabbing feeling in his chest at the idea but tries to smile. Murmurs some kind of agreement. 

Zoe’s back soon after, with an entire pint of mint chocolate chip ice cream and a packet of Oreos. She puts them on the table, kisses Connor on the cheek and announces she’s heading home. 

“You’re not staying for ice cream?” Nate asks, sounding surprised. 

“Nah,” Zoe says with a soft smile. “Mariah texted and she wants to go grab a drink, so I’m going to head home and get changed into something a bit nicer.” She grins. “Gotta impress the fancy lawyer types.”

“Mariah is Zoe’s not-girlfriend,” Connor says, grinning at his sister who looks a little annoyed. “She’s a lawyer, she and Evan used to work together. He set you guys up, like, a year and a half ago?”

Zoe looks even more annoyed at the mention of Evan and shoots this glance at Nate, who looks… a little pained. 

Connor’s got to stop talking about Evan around Nate, fucking fuck. 

“I’ll see you guys later,” Zoe says. She smiles at Nate. “This was fun. We should all do this again sometime. Maybe we could all go out for dinner sometimes? You two and Mariah and I?”

Connor feels his eyes go wide and Zoe looks at him, clearly irritated. 

“Sounds good,” says Nate, looking between them with this small frown. 

“Connor, wanna walk me out?” Zoe says, grabbing his arm. She waves at Nate. “See you again soon, I hope!”

With that, she’s dragged Connor out into the stairwell, through the bookstore and out onto the pavement. 

“Don’t tell Mariah about Nate,” Connor says immediately. “Evan doesn’t know about him and I don’t want him to find out.”

“He’s a really nice guy,” Zoe says pointedly. “And I think he deserves better than being a dirty little secret, don’t you?”

“He’s not,” Connor protests. “I just… Evan’s fragile right now and I don’t want to hurt him. Plus… I don’t know how serious things are with Nate. We’re just… it’s just casual.”

“Nate likes you,” Zoe says bluntly. “A lot. I can tell.”

“I like him,” Connor says tentatively. “I just… it’s not the same.”

“That’s the fucking point,” Zoe says, setting her jaw determinedly. “The whole fucking point is that it’s not the same as it was with Evan, because Evan left you a month after you nearly died. Evan tried to kill himself on your birthday.  _ Twice.  _ Evan’s a fucking mess.” Her expression softens. “Nate seems to think the sun shines out of your ass for some reason and honestly, you could do a hell of a lot worse.”

“I know,” Connor says, a little embarrassed. “I’m not… I do like him.”

“You could have told me about him,” Zoe says, her voice small. “I think it’s great. I think he’s great.” 

“He is great,” Connor agrees. He runs his hand through his hair. “I just… need you to not tell Mariah. Okay? I’ll tell Evan when I think he’s ready. I just… don’t want it to be weird.”

Zoe looks at him. Bites her lip. “Fine,” she says curtly. “Just a heads up, though - Nate has the patience of a fucking saint for being so fucking cool about the fact that you’re friends with your ex. Don’t take that for granted, okay?”

“I won’t,” says Connor. 

He hopes he’s telling the truth. 


	134. ONE HUNDRED AND THIRTY-THREE

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> “I’m not him. I’m not going to just bail on you."

Evan was going home soon. 

Well. 

Not actually home. He didn’t actually live anywhere right now. 

Mattie and Alex had given up the apartment. Alex, apparently, thought the place was “fucking cursed” after she learned that Evan kept trying to throw himself off of the roof. Mattie, it seemed, thought it was time they considered not having another roommate. So all of his things had been boxed up and stored in the storeroom of The Little Book Nook, and Alex and Mattie had moved into a new place. 

But Evan soon was getting out of treatment, and Alex and Mattie had invited him to come stay while he got back on his feet. 

“We don’t want you think we don’t still love you,” Mattie had said in a rush. “Just because we gave up the lease.”

“I just couldn’t stay there,” Alex said, her voice sad. “I… there’s a demon or a gas leak or something. First Charlie got sick, now you. Enough’s enough, you know? It’s clearly just. Not a safe place.” She sighed. “But really, our new apartment has an extra room we’ll probably never use. It’s the least we can do since we kind of made you homeless.”

“That’s kind of you to offer me a place to stay, really,” Evan said. But he still wasn’t sure he was going to stay in New York once he was released. Part of him thought that… he wouldn’t be able to handle it. 

Evan had taken some time to think about it. His mom also kept offering to have him home for a while. Let him move back in while he searched for jobs and worked on getting better. 

Oliver had really pressed Evan to consider what he wanted after treatment. And after a few weeks, Evan was leaning toward sticking in New York. Working to find a new job. If he stayed local, Evan would be able to keep working with Oliver and… 

There was Connor. 

If he stayed local, maybe Connor would still want to talk to him. See him sometimes. 

Evan wasn’t sure he could stand the idea of moving back in with his mom if Connor was still back in New York without him. Evan would just. Miss him too much. He would miss him constantly. He already did. 

“So you’re staying? Connor had asked him with a big fucking grin when Evan had told him he planned to crash with Alex and Mattie for a little while after he was released from treatment. 

“Yeah,” Evan said softly. “I… I mean my friends are here. Alex and Mattie and Mariah and... “ He swallowed hard. “You.”

Connor smiled even harder. “Yeah?”

Evan nodded. “I know I fucked up a lot between us.” He reached out and briefly squeezed Connor’s hand. “But you are the best person I know. You’re my best friend.” 

Connor squeezed his hand back. “You’re mine too. And if you need anything? Anything at all. I’m there. Okay?”

Evan nodded gratefully. 

* * *

The night before Evan gets out of treatment, Nate takes Connor out to dinner, then back to his place for dessert. 

Which Connor figures out pretty quickly is code for ‘eating ice cream then making out on the couch’. 

And he’s not complaining, not really. Nate’s a good kisser. 

Making out with Nate is nice. Being kissed by someone who wants to be kissing him is nice. 

Being wanted is really fucking nice. 

Connor pulls Nate on top of him, and Nate lets out this tiny gasp. Connor can tell that Nate’s turned on, can tell by the way he’s breathing, by the noises he’s making, by the fact that he can feel that he’s getting hard as their bodies press together. 

It would be easy to just… keep going. 

He presses another kiss to Nate’s neck, enjoying the way he shivers, then kisses his collarbone. 

It’s a perfectly fine collarbone, it’s just…

Fuck, Connor is such a fucking disaster. 

He shouldn’t be thinking about Evan right now. 

But he is. 

He’s imagining that it’s Evan kissing him, it’s Evan he’s kissing, and that’s not fucking fair to Nate. 

Not fucking fair at all. 

Still…

Connor keeps kissing Nate. Keeps touching him, because he needs the distraction, he needs to think about something other than the fact that Evan comes home tomorrow. 

He’ll be staying with Mattie and Alex in their new place, which isn’t that far from the bookstore at all. Connor’s going to pick him up from the center, accompany him to Mattie and Alex’s, get him settled in. They’ll hang out for a bit and it’ll be… good. 

It’ll be fine. 

Connor can absolutely do this.

Can absolutely be Evan’s friend, because a friend is what he needs right now. 

It’s just… going to be harder once he’s back in the real world. 

Evan’s doing so much better. He looks so much healthier. He’s put on weight, even though he’s not back to where he was, and he’s worked so fucking hard, Connor’s so fucking proud of him for doing the work to get better. 

He’s so fucking proud of him. 

He just loves him so fucking much. 

Connor can’t be thinking about this while he kisses Nate. 

He lets his hands skim across Nate’s waist. They slide almost naturally up his shirt, onto bare skin. 

Nate lets out this gasp and presses himself against Connor a little more, panting against him slightly. Moves his own hand up Connor’s shirt, to his stomach. 

And Connor freezes. 

Stops in his tracks. 

Nate climbs off him in a hurry, his face going pale. 

“Shit, I’m sorry, I didn’t mean to-”

“I don’t… I just… fuck, sorry, I can’-t”

“I’m really sorry, I-”

“It’s fine,” Connor says, but his heart won’t stop beating, he’s smoothing down his shirt so there’s no skin exposed, he’s having a hard time breathing and he barely realizes he’s having a fucking panic attack until he’s right in the middle of it. 

Fuck. 

Fuck. 

Fuck. 

Nate gives him a glass of water and he takes it with shaky hands. Spills most of it on himself before drinking it, then braves a look at Nate. 

Who just looks… 

So fucking sad. 

“I’m really sorry,” Nate says. “I didn’t…”

“I’m sorry,” Connor says after a moment. “I overreacted, I just…” He frowns. “The scarring freaks me out. I try to ignore it, but… it’s so fucking gruesome and it reminds me of the whole fucked up thing and it just, like…” He shrugs. Tries to smile. “Guess I’m not over nearly dying or whatever.”

“Of course you’re not,” says Nate immediately, sitting down on the other side of the sofa. “And I wouldn’t expect you to be. I’m so, so sorry.” 

“I know this isn’t what you signed up for,” Connor says, suddenly exhausted. “It’s okay if you want to call it-”

“I don’t,” Nate says firmly. 

“This must be super fucking frustrating and I-”

“Connor,” Nate interrupts, still in that firm tone. “I’m not just going to leave, okay?”

Something in Connor’s stomach drops painfully. 

“I don’t-”

“I’m not him,” Nate says, frowning a little. “I’m not… I’m not going to just bail on you. And I know that you’re still… figuring things out, and that you might not believe me, but I’m not going anywhere unless you want me to. Okay? I'm not going anywhere. I really, _really_ like you, Connor. I think you’re brave and strong... and you’ve gone through more in the last year than most people go through in their whole lives but you still go out of your way to help people.” He offers this sad smile. “You’re a really amazing person and I… I want to be there for you. I want to help.” He clears his throat, his cheeks going a little pink. “I know we don’t know each other that well yet, that we’re taking it slow and that’s fine. That’s okay. I just… I’m not going to bail on you. Okay?”

It’s like every word Nate says is driving a knife into Connor’s chest and twisting it painfully, twisting and ripping at his heart. 

Because what he’s saying is so fucking sweet and it should make Connor happy. It should mean something. 

But it just… hurts. 

Because it makes him think about Evan. 

Who left. 

Who walked away. 

Nate’s not Evan. Connor knows that. 

Nate’s not Evan. 

And that’s the fucking problem. 

* * *

Evan’s wrist felt strangely naked without his ID bracelet around it. He kept glancing out of the window of the Lyft, feeling a little bit overwhelmed, like maybe at any moment the Crazy Police would pull the car over and decide that, actually, Evan was not allowed out quite yet. 

“You doing alright?” Connor asked him again. 

Evan nodded, trying to smile. “It’s just weird? Like. How much of a non-event leaving is?” 

Connor nodded. “I get it. When I first came home in high school it was super weird.” 

Evan smiled at him gratefully, glad that this was something Connor actually understood. He really appreciated not having to explain himself about this. 

He felt sort of vulnerable back out in the world. It was a sunny and mild Spring day, but Evan felt like he needed more layers to protect himself from the world. Their Lyft driver honked his horn when someone cut him off in traffic, and Evan flinched, startled. 

Connor reached out and grabbed his hand. “I got you,” He said quietly. “You’re alright.” 

Evan smiled at him again, even more grateful. 

“So Alex and Mattie and I thought maybe we’d order a pizza? Just keep things sort of lowkey tonight? That sound okay?”

Evan felt this familiar warm weight in his chest. “Yeah. That’s… you’re all being really fucking kind to me.”

Connor wrinkled his nose like Evan was being silly somehow. “We just want to make sure you’re okay.” He squeezed his hand once more, then let go. 

Evan rubbed the spot on his wrist where the ID bracelet had been for two months. He felt anxious and weirdly exhausted and a bit needy. He sort of wished Connor would hug him, though Evan knew that was probably a lot to ask of his genuinely so considerate and understanding ex. He just felt so exposed. Vulnerable. Like he hadn’t been outside in months, even though that wasn’t true. He was just… Evan had been in this safe therapy bubble where everyone in sight cared and would respond with concern if he started to withdraw or wanted to hurt himself or talked about dying. 

Here in the real world he couldn’t be afforded that luxury. Evan was back on his own… and he had fucked up a lot before. 

A lot a lot.

When they got out of the Lyft, Connor hurried around to take Evan’s suitcase from the driver and then he threw his arm around Evan’s shoulders and walked him toward the building. “You doing alright?”

Evan swallowed hard. “I think so.” 

Connor squeezed his shoulder affectionately. “Okay. You got this. It’s just Mattie and Alex. We’ll eat pizza and if you’re tired, you can head straight to bed.” 

Evan nodded, smiling at him. “Thank you. For picking me up. I could have just gotten my own Lyft…”

“I wanted to,” Connor said dismissively, as if Evan was being silly and overly cautious. “You don’t need to do this stuff alone. I’ve got you.”

Evan smiled again, so fucking grateful that he knew Connor Murphy. 

They stepped into the building and made their way to Mattie and Alex’s new place. This apartment only had two bedrooms, but it was (according to Alex) “way nicer” than their previous place. And when they opened the door and pulled Evan inside with hugs and kisses pressed to his cheek, Evan understood what they meant. The living area was spacious and well lit, the late afternoon sun streaming inside through wide windows. The place was tastefully decorated, but Evan was happy to note some things from their previous place had not changed, like the sofa and the artsy photos of various landscapes, the blue throw pillows on the airchair and the coffee table. 

“How are you?” Mattie asked Evan, smiling at him. “How does it feel being out?”

“Sort of surreal,” Evan admitted, a little sheepish. “I keep kind of waiting for someone to say they made a mistake. Tell me I need to go back.”

“You’re doing really well,” Alex said, her voice even and fair. “Nobody can dispute that.” 

Connor nodded in agreement. “You really are doing great.” 

* * *

It’s a little weird, sitting and eating pizza with Alex and Mattie and Evan, mostly because it’s so close to being familiar. 

Sure, it wasn’t like Connor saw a whole lot of Alex and Mattie when he and Evan were dating, but at the times where he did, it was usually because he was at Evan’s place. The four of them have ordered pizza or Chinese or Thai food together before, enough times that this feels like something Connor knows. 

Except that he’s sitting next to Evan and he can’t put his arm around his shoulder, can’t pull him in close and kiss the top of his head, because Evan’s not his boyfriend anymore. 

And that’s absolutely not what Connor should be thinking about right now, because this is Evan’s first night home. His first night out of the treatment center, and Connor needs to keep it together, be steady and dependable. 

He wants to be someone Evan can rely on. 

Mattie’s telling a story about a woman whose baby she delivered and Alex is looking at her with this fond expression, like she hung the stars and moon, and Connor feels this pang in his chest because he misses the time that Evan used to look at him like that. 

“And the crazy part is that she’s pregnant again,” Mattie continues, rolling her eyes. “She has a three month old baby who does not have a name because her husband just won’t pick out a name and another one on the way.”

“Isn’t it illegal to not name a baby?” Connor asks. 

“The baby needs to be registered within six weeks of birth,” Evan says immediately. “But you can change their name for free up until they’re one year old.”

“So what are they calling this baby?” Alex asks, clearly amused. 

“Seven,” Mattie says with another roll of her eyes. “Because it is their  _ seventh _ child. But this is a placeholder name, because this woman insists that she’s not going to pick the name this time.”

“They have seven kids and she’s pregnant?” Evan asks, looking a little horrified. “Haven’t they ever heard of birth control?”

“They’re probably Catholics,” Connor says immediately. “Wanna use a condom? Too bad. Pope says no.”

“Pope says no,” Mattie echoes. “Oh my god.”

The conversation continues and it’s actually comfortable, actually easy, but Connor keeps a close eye on Evan. He looks a little tired, a little worn out, but his eyes are clear and he’s participating in the conversation and he’s… he’s here. 

He’s here, and he’s alive. 

And Connor’s so, so fucking grateful. 


	135. ONE HUNDRED AND THIRTY-FOUR

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> "Seriously, man, I’m gonna be real with you. In this situation? Either shit or get off the pot.”

Connor honestly doesn’t mean to be an asshole. It’s just… 

Well, Evan’s out of treatment. He’s job-hunting. He’s staying at Alex and Mattie’s. And that means he’s by himself a lot, and Connor’s not super chill with that. 

So when Evan texts and asks if Connor’s free, Connor says yes and is halfway to Alex and Mattie’s new apartment before he realizes that actually, he had plans with Nate. He fires off a text to let Nate know that something’s come up and he has to postpone, Nate replies immediately and says not to worry about it and that’s that, as far as Connor’s concerned. 

The first time it’s probably fine, sure. Maybe even the second time. However, the third, fourth and fifth time, that’s probably entering dick move territory. 

Almost definitely. 

But Connor kind of just… doesn’t think about it. 

He’s not exactly proud of himself about it, but he’s not really… worried. Not in a way that counts, at any rate, and that’s… possibly not good. 

“How’s Nate doing?” Zoe asks when she comes over to use his shower when, once again, the water in her building is out. “The school year’s winding down, he must be busy.”

“I guess,” Connor says, handing his sister a towel. “We haven’t caught up in a couple of weeks.”

Zoe frowns immediately. “Weeks?”

Connor shrugs. “We just… keep missing each other.”

Zoe looks at him. Takes a breath. Fixes him with a look. “And when did you last see Evan?”

“This morning.”

Zoe raises her eyebrows. “Seriously?”

Connor frowns. “What?”

Zoe looks super irritated. “Oh my god. Which one’s your boyfriend again?”

Connor blinks. “I… I don’t know if Nate’s my boyfriend. We’ve never really had that discussion.”

Zoe just sighs in annoyance. “You are so fucking useless sometimes. Haven’t you guys been seeing each other since January?”

Connor shrugs. “I mean, yeah, but… you know, we’ve been busy, and we don’t see each other that often and we… I don’t…” 

He feels his cheeks burning and this weird ache in his stomach. 

Zoe’s still frowning. “Connor,” she says, in this almost deliberately patient voice. “I know you don’t exactly have a ton of experience when it comes to relationships, but even you should know that spending all your time with your ex instead of the guy you’re seeing is just fucking inconsiderate.”

“Evan’s only just got home,” Connor protests. “I don’t like the idea of him being alone. I just want to make sure he’s okay.”

“You are torturing yourself,” Zoe insists. “You’re still in love with him and you’re insisting on being his friend, even though he left you, even though he broke your heart. Why are you doing this to yourself?”

“Because he’s my best friend,” Connor says simply. “Because he needs a friend.”

“You saved his life,” Zoe replies, frowning. “Saved his life, got him professional help. He’s back on his feet, he’s safe, you don’t… you don’t owe him anything, Connor. You’ve already done so fucking much for him, you…”

“I don’t want to be the kind of person who runs away just because it’s hard,” Connor says to his sister firmly. “And yeah, he’s doing so much better, but you know as well as I do that you don’t just… fix mental health issues. You keep working, keep trying. You let the people around you help carry you through.”

“He’s got people around,” Zoe insists. “His mom. Alex and Mattie. Mariah. It doesn’t have to be you.”

Connor doesn’t reply. There’s no answer that’s not going to piss Zoe off. 

Zoe lets out this huff of annoyance. “Okay, putting the whole ‘I don’t get why the fuck you’re still talking to your fuckhead ex-boyfriend who left a month after you got out of a coma’ thing aside. Even if that whole shitshow hadn’t happened, you still need to actually talk to your boyfriend more often than your ex.”

“Point taken,” says Connor, his face still burning. “I’m… fuck, I’m being an asshole.”

“You’re being an asshole.”

“I should text him?”

“At the very least,” Zoe says, rolling her eyes. “Jesus, Connor. Get your shit together.”

He figures he’d better take his sister’s advice and shows up at Nate’s apartment the next evening. When Nate opens the door, he seems completely surprised to see him, and that makes Connor’s stomach churn uncomfortably. 

“Hi.”

“Hi,” Nate says, opening the door and gesturing for Connor to come in. “Long time, no see.”

“Yeah,” Connor says guiltily. “I, uh… I brought Mexican food?”

“Oh,” says Nate. He smiles a little, but it doesn’t quite reach his eyes. 

It clicks. 

“You don’t like Mexican food.”

“Not really, no.” Nate shrugs, but something in his expression relaxes a little. “And I already ate. But you can eat if you want?”

Connor shakes his head. Puts the bag on the table. “I’ll take it with me when I go.”

“You’re staying?”

Connor bites his lip. “If that’s okay?”

Nate runs a hand through his hair. Sighs a little. “I just… you’ve cancelled on me so many times and now you’re here and I’m a little… confused.”

“Oh.”

Nate frowns. “I… look, I don’t want to be a dick.”

“You’re not a dick.”

“I just don’t know what’s going on with you,” Nate says frankly. “I get that you’ve been through a lot, I really do, and I’m trying to be patient, but it just feels like you’re not really in this. Ever since Evan got out of treatment-”

“Nothing’s going on with Evan,” Connor interrupts quickly. “We’re just friends.”

“You say that,” Nate says, something cautious in his voice. “But I think we both know that being just friends with an ex isn’t always that straightforward.”

“I’m sorry I keep bailing on you,” Connor says, frowning. “I really am. I didn’t mean to, it just… I got worried about Evan and kind of paranoid and it… it wasn’t cool of me and I’m really sorry.”

Nate nods. Bites his lip. Looks at Connor. “I really like you.”

“I really like you, too.”

“I think you’re really amazing,” Nate continues. “Everything you do for the community, especially considering everything you’ve been through… you’re really amazing. And I want to be with you. I just need to know if you’re really in this.”

“I am,” Connor insists. “I’m in this.” He sighs. “I’m sorry, I’m just kind of shit at relationships in general. But I’m gonna be better, okay?” 

Nate looks at him for a long moment. Nods. Smiles, this real smile that makes his eyes crinkle. “Okay.” 

Nate kisses him. He tastes like butter chicken. 

Connor kisses him back. 

“Jax suggested the other day that we maybe all go out for dinner,” Nate says after they break apart. “You and me and Jax and Maureen.”

“That could be nice,” Connor agrees, nodding. It’s a weird thought, all four of them together, but Jax and Maureen are some of his closest friends, and it makes sense. 

“I don’t really know Maureen,” Nate says with a smile. “But I’d like to. Jax is completely besotted with her, oh my god.”

“Maureen’s a sweetheart,” Connor says fondly. “She’s one of my favorite people.”

Nate smiles even harder. “Jax says you’re kind of protective of her. That you helped her move into her last apartment and helped find their new place, with the two of them and that guy Otis?”

Connor nods. “Yeah. It wasn’t a big deal.”

Nate shakes his head. “It was a big deal to them,” he points out. “Face it, you’re awesome.”

Connor isn’t sure he agrees. 

* * *

Evan decided he hated job hunting. 

He had also recently decided that he hated, in no particular order, raw onions, septum piercings, people who still used Instagram filters, Amy Winehouse music, and knitting on public transportation. All of those things irrationally annoyed him. 

“That’s not that weird,” Oliver said when Evan went in to meet with him for the first time since leaving the treatment center. It was weird to see Oliver in his normal office, one that wasn’t inside of a facility. He had a lot of books. And a desk placard that said, “SMASH THE PATRIARCHY.” “Your brain has wired itself over time to use black and white thinking to cope with a lot of stresses. You’ve been working really hard not to use that sort of thinking on people and events, so it makes sense that your brain is trying to run wild and hate stuff like onions.”

“So I’m not crazy?” Evan asked. “It just seems… like the behavior of an insane person to have so many strong, stupid opinions? Like, Connor and I had an inside joke for a long time about how I hated when people ordered scrambled eggs at a restaurant when anybody can scramble an egg… but now it doesn’t feel like I’m kidding? Like it feels like I just  _ hate  _ some really weird stuff.”

Oliver smiled. “Tell me this: when you hate something weird like Amy Winehouse, what do you do?”

Evan shrugged. “Sometimes if I’m with Connor or somebody, I’ll say ‘ugh I hate this’ and that’s… that’s normally it. Like. I just won’t eat raw onions or listen to Amy Winehouse.”

Oliver smiled bigger. “And job hunting?”

“I mean I’m still doing it,” Evan said, sighing. “It just sucks.”

“Sometimes things suck,” Oliver said. “But it seems like you’re adjusting well to being back.”

Evan shrugged. “I still don’t exactly feel ready.”

“Of course not,” Oliver said. “Most people don’t. You’re doing fine.”

* * *

There’s this weird, uneasy feeling that won’t go away for the next few weeks. Connor tries his best to hide it, and for the most part, it works. Nate doesn’t seem to notice, which helps, given that he’s definitely the reason for it. 

He’s trying to make up for the fact that he basically ghosted the guy by texting him all the time, and that seems to be working out in his favor. Jax keeps telling him how Nate’s always talking about him at school, how Nate thinks Connor’s so kind and so wonderful and so amazing, and that just feels weird because Connor’s pretty sure he’s an asshole. 

Evan’s thrown himself into the job hunt, which is great, because it means that he’s doing better, it means that he’s getting his life back together, and Connor’s so fucking pleased for him. So pleased that things are coming together. He’s talking about going into nonprofit work and honestly, Connor’s here for it. 

“I think it’s going to be a better fit for him, honestly,” Connor tells Praveed at his next therapy session. “The whole corporate lawyer scene basically glorifies overworking. If he ends up at another crazy competitive firm, he’s going to work himself to death.”

“And how are things going with Nate?” Praveed asks, with this lift of his eyebrows that makes Connor feel like it’s a fucking loaded question. 

“Things are fine.” Connor shrugs. “I’m texting him every day like I’m supposed to.”

“Like you’re supposed to?” Praveed repeats. He leans back in his chair. “Can you tell me more about that?”

“I mean… I like him? And he got upset when I wasn’t texting him. And when I was cancelling plans to hang out with Evan. Which makes sense? I’d be pissed if I was seeing some guy and he cancelled plans to hang out with his ex.”

“Nate knows about Evan, is that right?” Praveed asks. Connor nods. Praveed nods back. “And does Evan know about Nate?”

Connor feels his shoulders tense. “No,” he admits. “And I… I don’t want to tell him.”

“How come?”

“Because… it might upset him,” Connor says slowly. “And he’s only just out of treatment, I don’t want to upset him, I don’t want it to seem like I don’t care.”

“Say a bit more about that,” Praveed says, frowning a little. 

“I don’t want it to seem like I’ve just… replaced him,” Connor says, frowning back. “I know that we’re not together and I know that he doesn’t love me but I don’t want him to think that it… that what we had didn’t matter.”

“Evan was the one to call it off,” Praveed says gently. “You’re allowed to move on.”

Connor frowns again. “Well, yeah, I know that, I just… don’t want him to have to see it.” He tries to explain. “With the whole… the BPD thing, it’s like… fear of abandonment, right? I don’t want him to think that I’ve abandoned him. I want him to know that I’ve still… I’ve still got him, you know? I’m still there, I’ll be there for anything he needs.”

Praveed nods. He leans his elbows on his knees and looks at Connor. “If Evan said that he wanted to try again, wanted to have a romantic relationship with you again, what would you say?”

Connor doesn’t even have to think about it. “Yes.”

Praveed raises his eyebrows. “And where does Nate fit into all of this?”

Connor’s stomach churns painfully. “He… fuck.”

Praveed nods. Looks thoughtful. “It might be worth having a conversation with Evan about Nate,” he says matter-of-factly. “To let him know that you’re seeing someone but that you want to be there for him. Create some boundaries in your friendship.”

“Yeah, but… what if it doesn’t work?” Connor asks. “With Nate? I don’t want to freak Evan out over some guy who might not stick around.”

“Are you worried Nate will leave?”

Connor considers. “No,” he admits. There’s this awful sinking feeling in his stomach. “I don’t think he will. But… I kind of wish he would?”

“Say more about that?”

“If he leaves, then I don’t have to… I don’t have to worry that I’ve hurt him,” Connor says quietly. “I… he’s a really nice guy and I should be happy. I should be. I just… I’m not.”

Praveed looks at Connor. “Dude, I’m not exactly in the business of telling you what to do. You know that. But… seriously, man, I’m gonna be real with you. In this situation? Either shit or get off the pot.”

Connor blinks. “Excuse me?”

“Shit or get off the pot,” Praveed repeats. “Sitting around hoping Nate will bail on you so you don’t have to do it yourself? It’s a dick move. You’re in this weird limbo, dude. You gotta either decide that you’re gonna make it work with Nate or let him go. Right now it seems like you’re trying to have it both ways and that’s not fair to anyone.”

“Yeah,” says Connor weakly. 

“And whatever you do,” Praveed continues, “I think you should have a conversation with Evan about it. If you decide to stay with Nate, Evan will need to know about it if you want to continue a friendship. And if you decided to call it off, Evan still needs to know.” 

“Why?” Connor asks, a little defensive. “If Nate and I break up, then Evan never has to know.”

“Why does it scare you so much?” Praveed challenges. “The idea of Evan knowing about Nate?”

“I don’t want to hurt him.”

“Lying to him isn’t a great move.”

“I’m not lying,” Connor replies immediately. “I’m just… not telling him something.”

“A lie by omission is still a lie.”

Connor glares at Praveed. “Sometimes you are just such a pain in the ass.”

Praveed nods. “I have been told this, yes.” He looks at the clock. “Okay, that’s us for today. But, seriously, dude…”

“Shit or get off the pot,” Connor grumbles. “I know, I know.”


	136. ONE HUNDRED AND THIRTY-FIVE

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> "It's like I'm an Olympic sprinter who got their leg crushed by a tank."

Evan felt like his heart was going to burst through his ribs with excitement. He had an interview, an actual job interview, scheduled for next week. For a job he would actually like and be good at doing. A job as a staff lawyer for a nonprofit agency that did advocacy, education, and consulting work with a focus on the environment. A job where Evan was interested and invested in the work they were doing. One that wasn’t corporate and fast-paced. One he could feel good about. One where he could actually balance work and not work. 

Fuck, he hoped he’d get it. He was living off of his savings right now… and also literally crashing in the spare room at Alex and Mattie’s new place while he got back on his feet. They kept saying he could stay as long as he needed, but Evan hated feeling like he was intruding… and a job interview was a good step toward a job. Which meant an apartment, which meant he could get back to having something that resembled a life. Get out of his therapy bubble where he knew everything was sort of… baby proofed. BPD-proofed, Evan had joked to Oliver. It wasn’t that people were walking on eggshells around him, but Evan could tell that folks were holding back. A lot. And maybe if he got back into a routine, people would stop expecting he would melt down at the smallest things. 

So the job interview was good news. 

And Evan really wanted to tell Connor. 

Because he wanted to tell Connor everything, always. Because Connor was the first to know when Evan got his first job after taking the bar, and it felt right for him to be the first to know about this potential. 

So Evan walked to The Little Book Nook, smiling a bit nervously, preparing in his head how he might tell Connor or if it made more sense just to blurt it out or what. He didn’t know but he was extremely excited to tell Connor. 

He stepped inside the door to spot Jax standing behind the counter, reading a book of Keats poems. They looked up at Evan and didn’t even bother to hide their distaste for Evan’s arrival. Which Evan understood. He got it. He didn’t like it but he understood that Jax hated him. “Hi,” He said, trying to just power through the awkwardness of talking to someone who didn’t like you and actively hated your guts. “Keats. Solid choice. I always liked ‘Ode to a Nightingale,’ personally.” 

Jax didn’t dignify that with a response. Evan supposed that was fair enough. Jax didn’t like him, Evan knew. They thought he was a monster and Evan couldn’t exactly disagree with them. He had been a monster, self-destructing in such a damaging way that he’d caused a fucking ton of collateral damage. But he kept trying to be polite to them, make conversation, because he liked Jax well enough and Jax cared about Connor so they were important. Evan knew how much Jax cared about Connor and that meant they mattered to Evan. 

“How are you?” Evan asked them.

“Fine,” Jax said coolly. They raised their eyebrows at Evan, as if they couldn’t believe he was talking to them. “Can I help you?”

Evan tried to just keep smiling because he had good news and it really didn’t matter if Jax hated him right now. “Yeah, uh, do you know if Connor’s home? I wanted to tell him something.” 

Jax’s face broke out in a sudden smile. “Oh. No, actually, Connor’s not home. He’s on a date.” 

The word echoed strangely in Evan’s ears, resonating almost painfully. 

Connor was on a date. 

A date. 

A date?

Connor was on a date?

He was seeing someone? 

Evan hadn’t known. 

Connor hadn’t mentioned it. Hadn’t mentioned a date. 

“Didn’t you know?” Jax pressed on, their face breaking into an even wider grin. “Connor’s been going out with this super cute English teacher from my school, Nate.” They nodded to themself, like they were confirming it. “They’ve been seeing each other since, like, January.”

Evan felt his face burning with embarrassment, shame, caught flatfooted by this news. 

_ January _ . 

Connor had been dating someone else since… since January. 

He’d been dating someone. In January. 

January.

He had been dating someone else when Evan tried to kill himself on Connor’s thirtieth birthday, he had been dating someone when Evan basically moved into his apartment before he went to treatment, sleeping in Connor’s bed and tangling up in his arms in his sleep, Connor had been dating someone the whole time Evan was in treatment and Connor visited twice a week basically every week…. 

And Evan hadn’t known. 

He’d had no idea.

How had he not known? How had he been so blind, so clueless? 

His insides squirmed uncomfortably. His face burned hotter. Evan felt like he’d been hollowed out inside, like his heart had been scooped cleanly out of his chest, like his stomach had fallen to the floor with a sick, wet splat. 

“Oh,” Evan said, because what else could he even say?

“Yeah, Nate’s a really great guy. Intelligent, well-read…  _ loyal _ .” 

That one stung a bit, Evan could own that. That stung. Evan felt like crying, but instead he just nodded sort of numbly smiled, then swallowed hard. “Oh. That’s… that’s good. I. I’m glad he… he found that.” His voice was so false to his own ears that he felt like he might throw up.

“Yeah,” Jax said, sounding almost  _ smug _ . “They had this adorable meet-cute, oh my god. Connor nearly swooned right off of a ladder and into Nate’s arms.” They went into their phone and pulled up a photo of Jax, Maureen, Connor, and the person who could only be Nate. Of course he was cute. Of course. “We all did a double date a few weeks back.”

Evan felt that like a knife to the heart. 

Evan swallowed. He had never felt so fucking humiliated. So small and stupid and he wanted to just crawl into bed and sleep for a hundred years. He was positive his face was bright red, his ears too, he felt like such an idiot. How had he missed this, how had he not known, how had this just gone totally over his head? Had he just not wanted to see it, was he actively ignoring it? Fuck, fuck.

Jax had essentially just told Evan that the entire time since he and Connor had been speaking, Connor had a new boyfriend. A new boyfriend he was going on Friday night dates with. A new boyfriend he had never once mentioned to Evan. 

Evan was so fucking stupid. God, he was so stupid. 

“I don’t expect Connor will be back anytime soon,” Jax pressed on. “Nate was taking him to dinner.”

“Right,” Evan said quietly. “Right, of course.” He cleared his throat, willed himself not to cry in front of Jax. “Could you just… tell Connor I stopped by?” He tried to give them a smile but he knew it came out wrong. “It’s not that important I just… if you could tell him?”

“Fine,” Jax replied. “I’ll let him know.” Jax gave Evan this long look. “It was nice seeing you.” They didn’t sound all that sincere. 

“Thanks, you-you too,”

Jax didn’t even crack a smile at Evan. 

Evan left without another word, his insides churning with humiliation and guilt and absolute heartbreak. His face burned and his eyes stung and he was going to cry, Evan knew he was going to cry, but he couldn’t stop it. 

Connor wasn’t waiting for Evan to be ready, he wasn’t interested in Evan at all… he’d moved on. 

Evan wasn’t exactly surprised but…

He had maybe hoped he had a shot still. 

But Connor had moved on. Moved on with Nate. Nate, who was a middle school English teacher, who was probably perfect and mind-blowing in bed and so much better than Evan could ever be. He was attractive and lanky and had a nicely maintained beard and striking eyes and dimples and he had his arm around Connor in the photo Jax had showed Evan and… He liked Connor. He was… loyal. 

Fuck. 

Fuck, Evan thought, as he started to cry. 

Evan had been so stupid. So fucking stupid. Fuck. 

He was so stupid. 

What was the matter with him why had he thought he still had a chance? He had destroyed his relationship with Connor. He had destroyed it and done it on purpose. What had he been expecting, that Connor would just be around for Evan when Evan was well again?

He was so fucking stupid. 

Connor had a fucking boyfriend and Evan had been deluding himself and he was.

So fucking stupid. 

Fuck. 

Fuck he was an idiot. He was an absolute idiot. 

Evan very nearly bought a pack of cigarettes on the walk back to Alex and Mattie’s place, but he stopped himself. Instead he bought some gum and chewed it aggressively on his walk back. He chewed until his jaw ached a little but he didn’t hurt himself and that was probably something. 

He curled up on his borrowed bed in Mattie and Alex’s new apartment, staring at his phone and just cried and cried and cried. He felt hollow, empty, and so fucking hurt. What the fuck was he even doing? 

Like, seriously, what the fuck was he doing? 

He could have… probably should have just moved back home when they let him out of treatment, but Evan had stupidly insisted he stay in New York. And now look at him. He was crashing at Alex and Mattie’s, he didn’t have a job, and the person he thought was his best friend had an entire boyfriend and hadn’t bothered to tell Evan. 

Even without the ex stuff, Evan knew that would hurt. That Connor cared so little about him that he didn’t think it was important to mention he had been in a relationship since January. 

Fuck, fuck, he was so fucking stupid. 

Connor had a boyfriend, he had a fucking boyfriend and Evan was an idiot who had been hoping and hoping that maybe they had a shot. 

That they had a shot because Connor had told Evan he loved him and that he wouldn’t stop on the roof in February. He saw now that Connor had only told him that he loved Evan to get him down. To save his life. Because he was dating someone else, he was dating this dimply, bearded Nate… And so he’d lied. 

And Evan had been clinging to that lie like it was something precious, important, some hope for a future that Evan thought he had ruined… 

And he had ruined it. 

Because Connor had a boyfriend. And he hadn’t told Evan. 

Maybe he’d get home and Jax would have let Connor know, maybe he’d text Evan… 

But he didn’t. 

And Evan knew he wouldn’t. He was just fooling himself to think so. 

Evan just laid there on his side, staring hopelessly at his phone, tears dripping over the bridge of his nose until he fell asleep. 

* * *

Nate picks up Connor from the bookstore on Friday night. He’s in this shirt Connor hasn’t seen before that brings out his eyes and he looks good. Really good. 

And Connor thinks, for the millionth time, that maybe he doesn’t have to do this tonight. Maybe it can wait, maybe he can just keep going. 

But it’s not fair. 

It’s not fair on either of them. 

Jax teases them as they leave, making some joke about them behaving themselves, and Nate laughs and kisses Connor on the cheek and Connor bids Jax goodbye and they head out into the early evening. 

It’s getting warmer. It’s a nice night. 

They go to this pub in between their places. It’s nice, and has good food, and reminds Connor a lot of Tipsy McStagger’s, which he’s been avoiding since last August, only making an exception to go with Andre the day before his birthday. 

This is a nice pub. 

Connor probably won’t be here again. 

It’s not horribly awkward. It’s not uncomfortable or weird, it’s almost like a normal date for them. They order food and drinks and talk about books and how the bookstore’s doing and how Nate’s students are kind of climbing the walls so close to the end of the school year.

They order desserts, because Nate has a hell of a sweet tooth, and when the desserts arrive, Nate looks at Connor, something guarded in his expression.

“I might be off base here, but I get the feeling that you’ve got something to say.”

Connor closes his eyes. 

Sighs. 

Opens them and looks at Nate. 

“Yeah,” he admits. “I… I’ve never actually done this, so I’m sorry if I fuck it up.” He sighs. “I really like you? I think you’re so kind and so funny and so smart and caring and thoughtful and you’ve had the patience of a fucking saint with me, which I know isn’t easy because I’m a hot mess.”

“I wouldn’t say that,” Nate says, his voice neutral. He nods as if to urge Connor to continue. 

“I just… I don’t think I can do this?” Connor gestures between them. “Be normal. Have a normal relationship with someone as wonderful as you. And if we keep going like we are now, I’d just be getting in the way of you finding someone who can love you the way you deserve to be loved.” He takes a deep breath. “Because I can’t do that. I can’t love you as much as you should be loved, and I hate it, but I can’t ignore it, and I’m really sorry.”

Nate nods. Bites his lip. Blinks a few times. “Okay,” he says, his voice small. “I’m sorry, too. I… I think you’re wonderful. I just want you to be happy.”

“Most of the time I am,” Connor rushes to explain. “It’s not like I’m…” 

He sighs. 

Rubs his face. 

He wants to explain. He wants this to make sense.

“I’m not over Evan,” he says quietly. “And I don’t think I’ll ever be over him. It’s… it’s like I’m an Olympic sprinter who got their leg crushed by a tank. I’m okay, I’m alive, and I can walk and even run now, but it’s nowhere near at Olympic level anymore. And it just seems stupid to be running when I know how amazing it used to be. Like it’s some kind of dumb joke.” He frowns. “Not that I think you’re a joke, that’s not what I’m trying to say. It’s just…”

“You love him,” Nate says, sounding resigned. “An all-encompassing, once in a lifetime kind of love. The kind of love you read about in books.”

“Yes,” Connor says simply, because… Nate’s kind of hit the nail on the head. “I’m so fucking sorry, I… I wasn’t trying to lead you on, or hurt you, or…”

Nate looks at him. Frowns a little. 

“I asked,” he says, his voice pained. “I asked if you were in this, if you were ready to move on, and you said yes.”

“I thought I was,” Connor tries to explain. “I’m sorry.”

Nate lets out this sad laugh that cuts Connor to the core. “It… it just would have saved both of us a lot of time. If you’d just… been honest from the beginning.” 

Connor feels that like a punch. “Yeah. I… yeah.”

Nate tilts his head a little. “Can I ask you a genuine question?”

Connor doesn’t think he wants to answer it, but he figures he owes Nate something. “Sure.”

“Do you  _ want _ to be over Evan?”

There’s a stabbing pain in his chest. 

“I…”

Connor closes his eyes. 

“I  _ want _ to want to?”

He doesn’t look at Nate for a long time. When he finally does, Nate’s frowning, looking at him with that same guarded look. 

“I guess that’s a start,” he says after a moment. Something in his face crumbles. “I knew this was coming. And…” He sighs. Shrugs. “The idea of the big, all-encompassing, once-in-a-lifetime kind of love? It’s… not everyone gets that, I know, but… I want it. It’s stupid and naive and romantic... but  _ I _ want it one day, and I can’t have a once-in-a-lifetime kind of love with someone who’s already had theirs, you know?”

“Yeah,” Connor says, nodding. “I… fuck, I’m so fucking sorry.”

“Me too,” says Nate, sighing again. “I… for what it’s worth, I do really want you to be happy. I just kind of thought… maybe I could be the one to make you happy.”

“I thought so, too,” Connor admits. “I… I never meant to hurt you.”

Nate shrugs. Something Connor doesn’t recognize flashes across his face. “I… I appreciate that,” he says, his voice careful. He stands up. “I have to go. I… look after yourself, yeah?”

“Yeah,” says Connor hollowly. 

Nate leaves quickly, like he’s trying not to let Connor see him fall apart, and Connor feels like such a fucking asshole. 

Nate didn’t even finish his dessert. 

When he gets home that night, Connor drinks what’s left of his whisky, takes his meds then climbs into bed.

He falls asleep easily. 

Gets up the next morning and goes to the bathroom. 

Then goes back to bed. 

For the next four days. 


	137. ONE HUNDRED AND THIRTY-SIX

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> “Lawyers are just. Daddy issues. In suits.”

Evan woke up just after midnight to realize he was absolutely starving. Starving. He thought back to this afternoon, to earlier, trying to recall his last meal and recalled with a rush of embarrassment that it had been a bowl of cereal in the morning. He’d gotten so caught up in the excitement of the interview offer that he had totally forgotten to eat anything. 

Damn. 

Since he was still staying with Alex and Mattie, Evan didn’t exactly stock the cabinets. They kept insisting he could help himself to whatever, but he just couldn’t bring himself to actually do that in their brand new place when he was very clearly a guest. And also he didn’t cook so the idea of dirtying their dishes for something like instant noodles felt wasteful and strange and made him far more uncomfortable than he would admit.

So, his stomach protesting loudly, Evan rubbed the sleep from his eyes, put on a pair of sneakers, threw on a jacket and, feeling slightly irritated about how fuzzy his vision was (probably from all of the crying because Connor had a fucking  _ boyfriend  _ now), put his glasses on before heading out. He figured he would just grab something fast from the bodega down the street. Alex and Mattie actually hadn’t moved that far away from their old place, which meant he was able to drop into the bodega he’d liked that was about halfway to the bookstore. It was open all hours and always had a decent variety of snacks and food. 

He was just going to get a sandwich or something and go home, Evan told himself. Well. Go back to Alex and Mattie’s. He would get food and go back to sleep. He would absolutely not stay up all night staring at his phone feeling sad about Connor and Nate and he absolutely would not try to find Nate on Instagram and scroll through all of his photos until he made himself cry some more. That was not a healthy coping mechanism. 

And also he needed to put food in his body. 

So he was going to get food and go back to sleep. 

He figured if he promised it to himself enough that he might actually do it. 

Evan arrived at the bodega after a short walk. He considered the available sandwiches (and was again grateful that this bodega always labeled kosher and halal options so people didn’t need to spend ages reading over the ingredients on the back of the packaging). He was considering a bag of pretzels when a loud crash followed by a yelp drew his attention to the frozen items. 

Zoe Murphy was standing in front of the ice cream freezer, her face red and mouth open, looking utterly mortified. The owner of the bodega rushed over, apologizing, because apparently a jar of olives had plummeted from a shelf behind her and startled her. 

And that’s when she locked eyes with Evan. 

He noticed immediately that her eyes were red and so was her nose. Zoe had been crying. Evan had paid attention to her for far too long not to know what Zoe looked like when she had been crying.

“Jesus Christ,” She muttered. She grabbed a pint of ice cream aggressively and walked away. 

And Evan might have let her go if she wasn’t staggering. 

If he didn’t hear her slurring as she started to speak to the cashier. He might have let her go. 

Zoe was drunk. And she had been crying. 

He might have let her leave if she had just been crying or she was just drunk but… she was both. He couldn’t do that. 

Because Zoe might hate him but she wasn’t okay. Because Zoe might hate him but he still loved her like a sister. Because Zoe might hate him, and he knew he had to do something, anything. Watch out for her, make sure she got wherever she was going safely. Even if she hated him and would tell him to fuck off and stay away from her and her family, he couldn’t leave here not knowing if she was okay. 

This was the stuff you did when you loved someone. 

So Evan stopped and grabbed a bottle of water and headed to the counter where Zoe was frowning at the cashier and pointedly ignoring Evan. 

“I’m sorry,” The cashier said. “Our credit card machine is down, miss, I apologize.”

“Fantastic,” Zoe said, looking like she might cry more, her bottom lip quivering. 

“Here,” Evan said quickly. He pushed his things forward on the counter and forked over a twenty dollar bill. “Let me -”

“I don’t want you to buy my ice cream asshole.”

Evan was proud of himself for barely flinching. The cashier looked stricken. Evan looked at him with an awkward smile. “I got it, really.”

The cashier took Evan’s money, rang him up for the water and the sandwich and Zoe’s ice cream, and handed Evan back his change. Zoe snatched her pint of Ben and Jerry’s off of the counter and began to hurry away from the bodega. Evan mumbled a quick thank you to the cashier and went after her. She was unsteady on her feet, weaving across the sidewalk and definitely crying again, and Evan rushed to fall into step beside her. 

“Fuck you,” She mumbled. “Go away. I don’t want to see you.”

“I know,” Evan said softly. “I just need to make sure you get wherever you’re going okay.”

Zoe scoffed. “You know you already fucking ruined my evening so…”

Evan didn’t know how he had managed to do that from Alex and Mattie’s spare room, but he didn’t question it. “I’m sorry,” He said. “Please can I at least walk you home?”

“No. Also fuck you,” Zoe said, attempting to storm off only to wobble dangerously close to the curb. Evan reacted on instinct, catching her by the elbow and pulling her away from oncoming traffic. “Hands off me,” She shouted, shoving him away. 

“Sorry,” Evan said. “I didn’t want you to fall.”

Zoe rolled her eyes and then, suddenly, she turned and pointed an accusing finger in his face. “You promised… you swore you’d stay away from my brother. You told me you wouldn’t try to come crawling back.”

Evan flinched. “I know.” He shook his head. “I… Connor found me that night. I didn’t go looking for him.”

“Tomato, potato,” Zoe said dismissively, her words sliding into each other. “I told you to stay the fuck away and you fucking didn’t.”

“I’m sorry.”

“I hate that he talks to you,” Zoe said. “I hate you.”

Evan nodded. “I know.” He frowned a little. “And you get to hate me. I fucked up. But I don’t hate you and I’m going to walk you home, okay?”

“I don’t need you to… to bullshit and try and protect me or what the fuck ever. You’re nobody to me. You’re just a guy… a bad guy.”

“You’re probably right,” Evan said heavily. “But I’m going to walk you home anyway.”

“Connor… he doesn’t want you anymore,” Zoe said defiantly, her eyes big and shining, her arms crossed tightly over her chest. 

Evan sucked in a sharp breath. He knew he knew but it still fucking hurt. “I… yeah.”

“He’s got a  _ boyfriend _ ,” She went on. 

“I know,” Evan said, and he hated the way his voice wobbled, he hated the way he had to fight back tears. “Jax told me about Nate.”

“Nate is really fucking sweet,” Zoe said, matter-of-fact. “He likes Connor a lot. He’s  _ nice _ . He was there for him when you went off the fucking deep end and tried to kill yourself again.”

Evan hadn’t known that but it made sense. It was what you did when you loved someone. He bit his lip hard. Took a slow breath. “Is… is he a good guy?” Evan asked quietly. “Nate? Is he… does he make Connor happy?”

Zoe grimaced. “He’s a good guy. But my idiot brother is… an idiot. And it’s your fault.”

“I know,” Evan said. 

Zoe rolled her eyes and started off again. Evan didn’t recognize the direction they were going. Zoe had lived quite a distance from here when they were still speaking. He wasn’t sure if she was trying to fuck with him or if maybe she had moved in the last six or so months. 

“Are… Did you move?” He asked softly. “This isn’t the way to your apartment.”

“Fuck you,” Zoe shouted, wheeling around and nearly losing her balance. “You already fucking  _ ruined  _ my night don’t make it worse.”

“I’m sorry,” Evan said, keeping a little distance between them. Close enough to catch her if she fell, far enough away so that she didn’t feel like he was trying to crowd her or smother her. “I just want to make sure you’re okay.”

“Too fucking bad.” She looked sick. “Fucking.  _ Mariah…  _ she. She keeps defending you,” Zoe said, sounding disgusted. “She keeps being like ‘ohh but Zoe he was sick!’ Like, so what you were sick. I work with sick people, they don’t do what you did. Fuck, Connor almost fucking  _ died  _ and he didn’t, like, use it as an excuse to bail on people.”

Evan frowned. “I’m sorry she’s been defending me,” he said finally. “You’re right though. My being… being sick isn’t an excuse for what I did.”

“Oh look, we fucking agree on something,” Zoe laughed harshly, but the movement seemed to catch her off guard, throw her off balance because she pitched forward, retching. Evan gently escorted her toward the nearest garbage can so Zoe could throw up. He gently pulled her hair back from her face while she got sick and cried harder, and when she finished, Evan handed her the bottle of water he had bought and a stick of spearmint gum. 

Zoe took them without complaint. 

“Are you okay?” Evan asked her. “How much did you drink?”

“Not nearly as much as you,” She mumbled. 

Evan was exceedingly sober but he let the comment pass. “Do you need to throw up again?”

“No.” Zoe shoved away, stumbling more now, and Evan frowned and caught her by the elbow again. She didn’t push him away this time, so Evan wrapped his arm around her waist, keeping her upright as they walked. Zoe leaned into his shoulder, almost laughing. 

“What?”

“I’m… fucking drunk,” Zoe said, “And you are  _ a _ drunk.”

Okay, so that hurt a bit. But Evan didn’t protest, just kept walking with her, his arm protectively around her, trying to keep her steady despite her being about as stable as someone who had replaced their bones with jello. 

“God,” Zoe said after a minute as Evan struggled to get her over a crosswalk and a sidewalk cellar. “You’re all scrawny now you self destructive bastard.”

Evan let out a surprised laugh. 

“Seriously, like… Seriously. You were. Kinda. Jacked. It didn’t, uh, didn’t make sense because you were so fucking awkward looking in high school with your polos and your sweaty hands and tendency…. Tendency? Yeah. Tendency to lurk after jazz band concerts. But you were jacked.” Zoe shook her head, looking almost… sad. “And now you look like shit. Like. Look what you fucking did to yourself.”

Evan felt his face get hot. He didn’t look nearly as bad as he had when he first went into treatment. When he was told he was malnourished and underweight. When he was fed a special diet of high calorie foods because he was freezing all of the time and could hardly regulate his temperature. 

He didn’t think he was so bad looking now, but Evan knew she had a point. 

“Why were you so jacked?” Zoe asked looking at him quizzically. “I don’t think lawyers have time to work out.”

“We don’t,” Evan said, almost laughing. “I just. I dunno. I walk everywhere. In law school I tried to use exercise to help with insomnia but it never really, like, worked.” He didn’t add that for a while he’d had an energetic and athletic cardio routine of sleeping with Zoe’s brother. It seemed like an inappropriate detail about how he maintained his figure before he basically trashed his whole body. 

“You know,” Zoe said. “Mariah. She used to really want to fuck you.”

Evan froze.  _ What _ ? That… that couldn’t be right. 

“Oh yeah. She heard all these rumors in law school about how you were, like, a slut who slept with everyone and put your dick everywhere and were sort of like… the unofficial mascot of the NYU law class but, like, for fucking. The slut-scot? The… ma-slut?”

Evan laughed. “Yeah I uh. Yeah.”

“She had a thing for you. Mariah. She wanted to fuck you for a whiiiile,” Zoe went on. “But I get to fuck her now and I’ll have you know she’s  _ excellent  _ thank you.”

“I’m glad for you,” Evan said genuinely. “Mariah is great.”

“Yeah except she keeps fucking defending your bastard ass even though you’re a bastard and fucked my brother over.”

“I’m sorry,” Evan said. “I can ask her to stop.”

“Fuck you,” Zoe said, rolling her eyes so aggressively she nearly toppled over. Evan redoubled his grip on her waist. “EVAN THE LAW SCHOOL SLUUUT,” She cried, half shouting and half singing. Random passersby looked at them, some obviously amused and some offended and some just… New Yorkers so they ignored them completely. “HE PUTS HIS DICK EVERYWHERE!”

Evan had to bite the inside of his cheek not to laugh, but he managed not to laugh at her. He thought he deserved credit for that. 

Eventually, Zoe announced that they were on her block. She had moved, she said, “Which you don’t get to know because you’re a fuckhead coated bastard who sucks.”

“Are you going to be okay by yourself?” Evan asked her. “I can call somebody to stay with you.”

“I’m a fucking doctor,” She said, rolling her eyes. “I’m fantastic.”

“Right,” Evan said, “Maybe I’ll just… text Mariah just in case.”

Zoe’s eyes teared up unexpectedly. “I miss her. A lot. I don’t like that we don’t get to see each other much.” 

“I’m sorry,” Evan said softly. “That… that would be really hard.”

“We don’t… have time to do a  _ relationship _ or whatever.” Zoe looked annoyed. “Lawyers are just. Daddy issues. In suits.”

Evan tried not to laugh. “Well. There’s probably a psychology in there.”

“A psychology?” Zoe parrotted. “Who the fuck ever said you were smart you are so fucking dumb and you… broke everything.”

“I know. I really am sorry, Zoe.”

Zoe let Evan walk her up to her door, then turned to face him, snatching back her ice cream and pointing a wavering finger at him. “Do not tell Connor about this or I will rip off your ballsack.”

“Noted,” Evan said. “Thanks for letting me walk you home.”

“Yeah, whatever, fuck you,” Zoe said, heading inside.

Evan waited until he saw her disappear up the stairs, then he pulled out his phone and texted Mariah. He kept the message brief, just saying he had bumped into Zoe and she said she missed Mariah, but also she was drunk and maybe shouldn’t be alone. Mariah texted back maybe five minutes later, saying, “ _ Fucking hell would you believe I’m still at the damn office? We were supposed to get dinner and I cancelled on her like a bitch. I’ll check on her now.” _

Finally feeling like Zoe was in good hands, Evan headed back to Alex and Mattie’s apartment, eating his sandwich on the way. 

Seeing Zoe had… hurt less than he had expected. He had imagined it would be absolutely unbearable if she told him how angry she was with him again but… he had managed. He had survived. And she was home and safe and… that was all he could do for her now. 

Maybe… maybe he should look at the Connor situation like that. They were friends and they were both safe and. Maybe that was all they could do for each other now. After everything, maybe friends were all they could handle being. Maybe it was for the best…

But it didn’t mean that the lie didn’t sting. And it didn’t mean Evan’s heart could obey that command so easily. He loved Connor. He couldn’t imagine ever not loving him… 

But maybe friends was all he could get. All he should get. Maybe that was all they owed each other after everything else.


	138. ONE HUNDRED AND THIRTY-SEVEN

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> “I’ve been trying to check on him but he keeps saying he’s fine.”

One of the perks of owning your own business is that you can kind of just… choose not to do something you don’t want to do. 

Like face anyone. 

So Connor works from home the rest of the week, pointedly ignoring everything but work-related emails. He just…

He can’t right now. 

He can’t deal with anything, can’t deal with anyone. He ignores texts from his sister, from Andre, from Evan. When Leslie tries to check up on him, he tells her he’s fine and tries to get rid of her as soon as possible. 

He doesn’t deserve people caring. 

He’s such a fucking asshole. Such an asshole. 

Honestly, at the end of the day Nate was way too fucking nice to him. He should have completely ripped Connor apart, ripped into him like he really deserves. 

_ “It would have saved us both a lot of time if you’d been honest from the beginning.” _

Fucking hell. 

He’s such a fucking asshole. 

He just…

He thought he could do it. He thought he could have a normal fucking relationship, with a nice normal guy. With someone who actually wanted him.

But he couldn’t. He couldn’t fucking do it, even though he tried.

Nate had left so quickly, and Connor knows that he hurt him. 

Nate deserves better. 

So much better. 

And Connor… 

Fuck. 

There was a fucking reason he didn’t date before Evan. Apparently he’s shit at it. Completely shit at it. 

Before Evan, he’d never wanted to try. 

Before Evan, he’d…

Fuck. 

Connor edits manuscripts and doesn’t look at his phone and drinks a lot of whisky and watches sad movies and… cries. 

Cries a lot. 

It’s not fair. It’s not fucking fair that he can’t love Nate the way he deserves to be loved, because Evan still has his heart. His stupid, shattered heart. 

He’d wanted to move on.

He thinks. 

_ “Do you  _ want _ to be over Evan?” _

That’s a fair fucking question. 

Connor wants to let go, because this hurts, it hurts every goddamned day, knowing that he’s hopelessly in love with someone who doesn’t love him back, but he just… doesn’t know _how_. 

He’s never been in love before Evan. 

Which means that he doesn’t know to stop loving him. 

He just doesn’t. 

Maybe he should ask Evan for advice, because Evan seems to have it down. He stopped loving Sabrina. He stopped loving Connor. He’s done it before. 

There must be some kind of secret to it. Some kind of… something. 

Other people who can have normal fucking relationships probably know about it. 

But Connor’s just a fucking nightmare who can’t let go. 

Breaking up with Nate was the right thing to do. The kind thing to do. If he’d let it go on for any longer, it would have caused so much more pain. 

Nate deserves better.

Connor doesn’t know what he deserves. 

* * *

Evan worried. 

He was a worrier, naturally, but this time he felt his worry was justified. 

He hadn’t heard from Connor at all since Evan had stopped by the Little Book Nook. And that was strange. They had texted pretty much every day since Evan had gotten out of the treatment facility. 

He hated not hearing from him. 

He hated it. 

And he hated not knowing if he should be worried about Connor or if Connor was pissed off at him because he knew about Nate. He hated not knowing. He hated the number of unanswered texts in his phone, he hated how scooped out and hollow inside this whole thing made him feel, he hated how stupid and ridiculous and small he felt now. 

But he tried to do what he was supposed to do.

He ate regular meals. Slept eight hours each night. Went to therapy. 

Evan talked to Oliver during his usual session on Monday and… cried a lot. 

“Maybe I should just cancel this interview and move back home with my mom,” Evan said sadly. “I… What am I holding on to here?” He’d said, shredding a tissue in his hands. “Connor has moved on and… maybe I should too.”

Oliver shook his head. “But you don’t want to go home.” 

Evan shrugged. “Yeah, but…”

“And the potential of resuming a relationship with Connor isn’t the only reason that you want to stay in the city.”

“I know but,” He said. “I’m… homeless. And I’m unemployed and…I have a fucking personality disorder and I fucked up my career and my ex-boyfriend has a perfect new boyfriend and… It just feels a little like I’m hanging on to being here for no reason.”

Oliver shook his head. “You know that’s not true.” 

Evan wiped his eyes. “Is this the part where you tell me to… buck up and just keep working?”

Oliver laughed. “I think  _ you’re _ the one telling yourself that. I’m not telling you to do anything.”

“Well could you? I’m lost here.”

“No you’re not,” Oliver countered. “You know exactly what you want to do.”

“I can’t just let go. I… I want to be in Connor’s life. Even if he doesn’t want me anymore,” He said. “But it hurts.” He hiccuped a few times. 

“I know.”

“And I really don’t want to have to sit the bar exam again.”

“Totally fair. That sounds like it fucking sucked.”

Evan laughed. Then Evan cried some more. But he left therapy and confirmed his appointment to meet with the hiring team at the nonprofit. 

He had his job interview. Evan had experienced a moment of mild panic when he was getting dressed for it, realizing he hadn’t put on a suit since the night he had slept with Richard and… 

That one didn’t fit anymore. Which was fine because Evan never planned to wear it again. Black wasn’t really his color anyway. 

But he put on a suit and tie and brought a copy of his resume plus recommendations from Mariah, Asher, and several other former colleagues and law school professors and clients. These references included a glowing recommendation from Larry Murphy and a five-page letter from Kendra McCool about how passionate and wonderful and dedicated Evan was. He rehearsed his interview answers and chewed gum aggressively on the train there. 

He nailed the interview, Evan was pretty sure. 

He’d only stumbled a little when they went over his work history, the legal department supervisor frowning a little at the short period of time he had worked for McLaren, Hunt, & Simon. 

Evan cleared his throat awkwardly. “Yes, I uh. I meant to finish out a three-year contract as a junior partner,” he said smiling a bit. “But I had a health problem arise and it wasn’t feasible to be working while I was in treatment.” He coughed, smiling sheepishly. 

And that was it. They didn’t ask any additional questions. They moved on to discuss his experience with contracts. 

He walked out feeling pretty confident. Even if they didn’t hire him, he’d made it through a job interview without totally falling apart. 

And then he went back to Alex and Mattie’s. He changed out of the suit, putting on his more typical uniform of jeans and a hoodie. He walked to the bodega halfway between Alex and Mattie’s new place and Connor’s apartment, where he bought a package of Double Stuf Oreos and two pints of ice cream. He didn’t know what his plan was, or honestly even what might be going on with Connor, but he knew something wasn’t right and he wanted to check in. He didn’t know if he owed Connor an apology or if Connor owed Evan one, but something was wrong and he needed to do something. 

He walked into the bookstore and was relieved to see Maureen and Leslie on the floor. They were chatting happily about some Instagram post featuring Edgar photoshopped to look like he was surfing to promote their upcoming Memorial Day sales. 

“Hi!” Leslie said when she saw him. “How are you?”

Evan tried to smile. “I’m alright. You?” 

Leslie nodded, said she was good. Mentioned how Camille was taking her out to dinner later, and chatted with her about where they were going and what was good there to eat. He looked at Maureen, saying hello as well. She wasn’t quite as friendly, but she returned his greeting before going back to restocking a book in their YA section. 

Leslie asked what Evan was doing there. 

“I wanted to check in on Connor. I haven’t seen him or heard from him in a few days and… I just wanted to check in.”

Leslie nodded, frowning a little, “Yeah. That’s… that’s good.” 

Evan’s heart squeezed painfully. “Is he okay?”

Leslie shrugged. “I hope so but honestly he’s been kind of a hermit. Hasn’t come out of his place in a few days?” She looked a bit nervous. “I’ve been trying to check on him but he keeps… he keeps saying he’s fine.”

Evan nodded. “Yeah he. He does that.”

“That for him?” Leslie asked, nodding to the bag Evan was carrying.

“Yeah. I just… have a feeling he might need some cheering up.”

Leslie smiled a little. “He’s home. You can probably just go on up.” She paused, looking thoughtful. “Good luck though, you know how stubborn he is.”

“Thanks. Yeah.” Evan paused. “That restaurant is pretty romantic,” he added suddenly. “Is tonight a big date?” It was the place Martha and Gladys had suggested Connor take him on Valentine’s Day. 

“Not really,” Leslie said, turning a bit pink. “She and I are living together now so… We like to do dates that feel a little more special sometimes. Just so we don’t get too into the routine of, like, seeing each other in our sweatpants.”

“That’s… adorable,” Evan said. “The risotto is great. Have a good time.”

“We will! Thanks!”

Evan climbed the stairs to Connor’s apartment. He knocked softly on the door and waited. 

And waited. 

He knocked again. 

Finally the door opened to reveal Connor, who looked exhausted and sad, his hair in a messy bun and his eyes a bit red, like he had been crying. 

Evan wanted to pull him into the tightest hug imaginable and kiss him until he was smiling again. He wanted to make whatever it was better. 

But that wasn’t his place. 

“Uh, hi,” Connor said to him, his face going a bit pink. “Did we have plans?”

Evan shook his head. “Sorry I… I tried texting? Sorry, I can go I just wanted to see if you were okay?”

Connor looked confused. 

“I haven’t heard from you in almost a week,” Evan said, then bit his lip. “I. Uh. Well you know me, I… worry? Like… I feel like I might have fucked up somehow, and I’m not sure what, but I wanted to… make up for it and apologize and… Yeah. Sorry. I can leave...”

“Oh,” Connor said. “Shit, I’m sorry I wasn’t like…You didn’t do anything. You want to come in?”

Evan smiled. “Sure.”

He followed Connor inside, then set the bag on the kitchen table. He pulled out the ice cream and the Oreos. Connor looked even more confused. 

“I uh. It’s probably dumb but… I had a weird feeling that maybe you weren’t doing so hot? And I wanted to. I dunno. Cheer you up, if I could. It’s probably stupid, I’m sor-”

“Thanks,” Connor said and this time his smile was genuine. 

“I should have asked,” Evan said, feeling colossally stupid. “Do you even like ice cream anymore? I know you were always cold for a while I… fuck. I’m so sorry. I fucked this up. Fuck I’m… I just fucked this up.”

Connor shook his head. “You’re okay. I can eat ice cream,” He said. “Here, you want some?”

Evan shook his head. “Nah, I got it for you.” He cleared his throat. “And like. Dairy. I can go if… I don’t want to intrude, I’m sorry, this is probably weird...”

“No,” Connor said. “Please, we can… Lemme just get a spoon.” He paused. “And a knife.”

They sat on the sofa and Connor ate a little ice cream and massacred some Oreos, handing the naked cookies to Evan as he did. Evan ate them quietly, sort of watching Connor, feeling the burn of shame again. Fuck, he was so stupid. What was he even doing here? Fuck. He was… 

Things felt awkward. 

But he knew something was up with Connor and he… wanted to do whatever he could. And that meant he had to talk to him about what he knew. He had to tell Connor that Jax told him about Nate because he couldn’t go anywhere or do anything until that came out. No matter how much it sucked. 

So Evan figured he might as well just say it. “Connor I… I don’t mean to intrude or-or pry? But… Did something happen with you and… and your boyfriend?” It was like a knife to the chest saying that. Connor had a boyfriend who wasn’t Evan. 

Connor’s eyes went huge. “What?”

Evan nodded chewed his lip, his heart pounding too hard in his chest. “Nate. Your boyfriend. Did… did something happen?”

“You know about Nate?”

Evan nodded, eyes down, staring at a cookie Connor had just handed him. “Jax mentioned him when I dropped by on Friday? Which I realize was stupid and I should have texted you first to see if you were free, sorry, fuck. But. Jax. They said you two had a date.” He cleared his throat. “And that you, uh. You and Nate have been going out for a while. Since… since January.”

“Fuck, Evan I -”

“It’s okay,” Evan rushed to say, his face burning. He looked away awkwardly, trying not to cry or whatever. “I’m…. I’m happy for you.” The words hurt to get out. Evan worried about how stupid his face probably looked, how obvious it was that he was forcing himself to say that. 

“I should have told you.”

Evan shook his head. “It’s your life and-and I know I. I know, I haven’t made things easy for you and… I mean, I’m not going to lie, it uh. Hurt a little to find out that way. I’m sort of sad you felt like you couldn’t tell me about Nate, but I get I haven’t earned your trust back so. I get why. And you don’t have to be sorry.” Evan cleared his throat. “He’s… cute? Jax uh. Showed me a picture.”

Connor looked pissed. “They did?”

“Yeah uh. You two and Maureen and Jax on a double date?”

Connor looked oddly devastated by that information. 

“But I uh. I mean. I’m glad you have him and… he works in a school that’s. Awesome. That’s uh. Kind of perfect for you,” Evan forced himself to say, a lie that tasted like sawdust in his mouth. He felt kind of sick, like he could physically feel this heart shattering with each word he said. His eyes teared up and Evan cleared his throat, shook his head, blinked until they went away. “Nate’s cute. You two look… really happy.” He swallowed hard. “I’d love to meet him someday.” 

_ Liar liar liar liar.  _

Connor looked down at his ice cream. “We broke up. On Friday.”

“Oh,” Evan said, surprised. 

A small part of him was jumping for joy at the news. 

But mostly he was just… really fucking sad to hear that. Because Connor was clearly sad. He wasn’t okay. He was clearly broken up about it and Evan… never wanted Connor to feel sad. Ever. And if this guy had hurt Connor, Evan would. Kill him. Destroy him every way he could think of. 

“I’m so sorry to hear that,” Evan said carefully. “That… sucks.”

Connor shrugged. “It is what it is,” He said and Evan hated that, he hated that so much so fucking much because that was what Connor said when he was really hurting, when he was in pain and all Evan wanted to do was try to find a way to make it better. But it wasn’t his place. 

“Still. I’m really sorry.”

Connor nodded, putting another spoonful of ice cream into his mouth. “Thanks.” He shook his head. “I don’t… I don’t really want to talk about it? Sorry, I just -”

“No, no, I get it,” Evan said. “I’m your… I get it.”

Connor put his spoon into his ice cream and shook his head. “Want to go see a movie or something? I think I need to get out of the house.”

Evan smiled. “S-sure.”

“Just let me go and shower,” Connor said, smiling a little. 


	139. ONE HUNDRED AND THIRTY-EIGHT

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> “You wanna swoop in and be all Prince Charming and shit, but people don’t fix people. People need to fix themselves.”

Connor showers in record time. Weirdly, he has this very strong impulse to go find a fish market, buy a fish and slap Jax across the face with it. 

He has no idea what he’d do with the fish afterward, but there’s something very appealing about slapping his one vegan employee with a fish right now. 

Jax showed Evan a picture of the double date. 

Evan saw a picture of Nate. Evan  _ knows _ about Nate. 

Evan wasn’t supposed to know about Nate, he was  _ never _ supposed to know about Nate. The whole fucking point was that Nate didn’t know Evan, didn’t have anything to do with Evan. 

Didn’t hate Evan, the way everyone else in Connor’s life seems to these days.

Fuck. 

Fuck. 

Connor’s just… 

Fuck. He’s got to get out of this apartment. He hasn’t left it for nearly a week.

Which is always a bad sign. A sign that he’s not okay, a sign that he’s struggling. 

So he’ll go see a movie with Evan, and Evan won’t worry anymore, because Evan knows that not leaving his apartment is a Bad Sign for Connor, Evan knows him…

Evan knows him. 

Evan knows Connor in a way that no one else does. Evan’s seen him, seen all of him, and…

Evan left him. 

Evan fell out of love with him. 

Evan doesn’t want Connor the way Connor wants Evan.

And that’s okay. That’s okay he can deal he can deal he can fucking deal. 

Except apparently he can’t, because he can’t get over it, he can’t fucking get over it and keep seeing the nice, kind, smart and thoughtful middle school teacher he’d be able to love if he weren’t… broken. 

Just… broken.

Fuck. 

He gets changed quickly, throwing on jeans and a t-shirt and a flannel shirt because even though it’s spring he’s still layering up, because he still gets colder than he used to because he still has basically no body fat so he’s gotta make sure he dresses for the weather. 

Throws his hair into as neat a bun as he can be bothered with and heads back to the living room where Evan’s still sitting, reading something on his phone. 

“Okay,” he says with a nod. “Ready when you are.”

“I’m just looking up movies,” Evan says, and Connor smiles because of course he is. “There’s apparently an LGBT film festival on at the moment.”

“Oh yeah, I heard about that,” says Connor. “We were…”

He trails off. 

He and Nate had talked about it. Tried to pin down a date to go see something. Tried to pick something they both liked, because apparently they have very different taste in films. 

But Nate’s not his boyfriend anymore. 

Neither is Evan. 

He’s… just him. 

Just Connor. 

Which is fine. It’s fine, he’s fine, everything’s fine. 

“They’re playing  _ Heavenly Creatures _ in like an hour,” Evan says after a moment. “Across town. We could give it a go?”

Connor hasn’t seen it, but remembers Nate going on a rant about how it can hardly be considered an LGBT film, especially since there’s this whole connection between teenage lesbianism and murder, but whatever. 

“Sure,” he says with a nod. “I’ll grab my coat.”

Connor keeps trying not to be distracted the rest of the night. Not to be distracted by Evan’s worried looks, by his soft smiles, by the fact that he clearly cares, he clearly doesn’t want Connor to be upset, to be hurt. 

Not to read too much into that because he’s lonely and sad and misses Evan, misses what it was like when they were together, properly together. 

He wants to put his arm around Evan during the movie, which is… really fucking weird, but at least somewhat entertaining. 

He wants to hold his hand as they head to grab some food after. 

He wants to kiss him when Evan insists on walking him back to the bookstore.

But he doesn’t. 

He doesn’t. 

“I know you said you don’t want to talk about it,” Evan says as they turn the corner to the street where the bookstore lives. “But… I don’t have to, like, kick Nate’s ass about anything, do I?”

Connor just looks at him, a little bemused. “It’d be a little weird if you of all people kicked his ass.”

Evan goes pale. Looks so fucking devastated. 

Connor feels like shit. “I’m not… fuck, sorry, I’m being a dick-”

“You just got dumped,” Evan interrupts with a frown. “You’re allowed to feel ways about it.”

“I didn’t get dumped,” Connor says, looking at Evan. 

Evan turns pink. “Shit. Sorry, I just assumed-”

“It was… mutual,” Connor lies. “I just… it sucks? I don’t…” He tries to smile. “You probably remember that I don’t exactly handle breakups well. I wasn’t exactly super chill when we…”

“I’m so sorry,” Evan says, and he still looks so sad. “I… I’m just so sorry.”

“I know you are,” Connor says. He’s tired. 

Exhausted. 

Overwhelmed that Evan’s right there. What he wants is right there and he can’t have it. 

Being friends with Evan is… exhausting, sometimes. 

“I’m gonna get some sleep,” he says as they reach the closed bookstore. “I’ll… I’ll text you, yeah?”

Evan nods. Offers a smile. 

Then his eyes widen, like he’s forgotten something. “I didn’t tell you,” he says, something in his voice changing. Getting lighter. “I had a job interview today.”

“You did?” Connor says, and he actually feels something in his own chest lighten. Feels his face break into a smile. “Evan, that’s awesome! Was it that non-profit you told me about?”

“Yeah, it was,” Evan says, smiling this big wide smile. “I… I think I nailed it? I’ll let you know if I hear anything.”

“Absolutely,” Connor replies, and it’s like the weird tension of the night has broken. “Fuck, I’m sorry I was so fucking gloomy. That’s amazing news, Evan, I’m… I’m really fucking proud of you?”

Evan smiles. Blinks a few times. “Yeah?”

“Yeah,” Connor says firmly. “You… you’ve worked so hard to get better. It’s really incredible. They’d be idiots not to hire you. You’re amazing.”

Evan goes pink. “Thank-thank you. That means. A lot. From you.”

They just stand there, smiling like idiots for a few minutes. 

“You need sleep,” Evan says suddenly. “And I’d better head home. Well, to Alex and Mattie’s.” He laughs a little. “If I get this job then the next step is somewhere to live, I guess.”

“One step at a time,” Connor says immediately. He reaches out and squeezes Evan’s shoulder. “You got this. Seriously, dude.” 

“Thank you.” 

“Thank you for coming,” Connor says with a smile. “For, like, checking up on me? It’s… you didn’t have to and… I appreciate it.”

“Of course,” Evan says, like it’s simple. “You’re my best friend.”

_ Right,  _ Connor thinks.  _ Best friend.  _

If it’s all he’ll ever get from Evan, it’s better than nothing. 

Connor can live with it. 

He swears he can.

* * *

Only three days passed before Evan got the call offering him the job. He accepted happily. Honestly he was sort of in shock to learn that he had gotten it. Evan called his mom right away; something new for them that they were trying. She wanted Evan to call her, no matter what, and Evan tried not to automatically hide things from her. 

She cried while they were on the phone, and she kept congratulating him. She asked if he wanted her to come out and visit once he was more settled, and Evan said yes immediately. He wanted to see her. 

“Can I say something stupid?” His mom said quietly. 

“Sure.”

“Is it weird that… While I’m so happy for you, part of me did like the idea that you might come back home for a while?”

Evan smiled a little. “I… me too,” Evan said. 

“I’m so proud of you baby,” His mom said. 

“Thank you,” Evan said, and he had teared up. “I… I miss you? Is that weird?”

“It’s not weird, sweetie. I love you and I miss you all the time.” She sighed. “Maybe once work settles a bit, you can come home for a weekend or something? Get a little break?”

“I would love that,” Evan said. “I really would.”

Evan texted Connor not long after, letting him know about the job. Connor texted back roughly a hundred exclamation points and asked if he wanted to come over for dinner later. Evan agreed, thanking him. 

Then, figuring he earned it, Evan took himself to this cafe near Alex and Mattie’s new apartment, thinking he might treat himself to a latte and start looking at some apartment listings. He glanced down at his phone right after he placed his order, reading over the contract his new workplace had sent over to him, and finding himself smiling a bit when he read over his unbelievably generous vacation package. 

He got four weeks. 

To start. 

Insane. 

Beside him, two people were having a sort of loud conversation that Evan was trying to ignore. 

“-weird codependent thing with his ex, man, you didn’t want to mess with that.”

“I just… I really like him. I  _ really _ like him.”

“And he dumped you,” The first guy said. “He dumped you because he’s a fucked up person whose ex did a number on him. His  _ crazy _ ex. You said it yourself, the guy was just like… in a nuthouse. Literally. If this Connor dude wants to mess around and be all weird and codependent with some nut job. Just… You gotta let it go, dude. You don’t wanna be with someone who doesn’t want you.”

“You’re right,” He said. 

Evan bit his lip. Were they talking about him? 

No. He was being paranoid. Obviously. Nobody was talking about him. Evan needed to get a grip. He and Oliver kept talking about coping strategies for what to do when he started to feel as if people were judging him, looking at him, talking about him but suddenly Evan couldn’t remember a single one. He was listening to these people have their slightly too loud to be polite conversation, absolutely certain they were talking about him. 

“You’ve gotta quit going after these guys who are so fucked up, bro,” The first guy said. “You wanna swoop in and be all Prince Charming and shit, but people don’t fix people. People need to fix themselves.” 

“I don’t know what you’re talking about.”

“Dude, you kind of go for the guys who you think need saving. Like remember that artist guy who basically lived with you rent free for three months? And that dude who had just gone into remission from leukemia? You’re all about trying to swoop in and save the day.” 

“You’re right.” 

“You can’t just, like, be cute and charming and suddenly this Connor dude is gonna be all… whole and healed and whatever.”

Evan blinked, suddenly very focused on this conversation happening around him. 

“Just… every time I close my eyes I want to punch Evan Hansen in the face.”

Evan froze. 

They were talking about  _ him _ . Him and Connor. He  _ wasn’t _ being paranoid he was… being talked about. He was actually being talked about. The person had said his name and it wasn’t like there were no other Evan Hansens in the world or in New York even, but there probably weren’t other Evan Hansens who had relationships with Connors. 

Looked up from his phone to realize he was standing, waiting for his drink, right near  _ Nate _ . Connor’s Nate. Connor’s ex boyfriend Nate. With a stylish, hipster beard and his gray eyes and...

Evan could hardly breathe. He should duck out, he should disappear… 

Connor had told Nate about Evan, about Evan being in a mental health facility, he had told his new boyfriend all of Evan’s dirty secrets and now Evan was standing right next to him, Evan was standing there listening to this guy talk shit about him and he needed to go he needed to go before Nate notice...

“Almond milk latte for Evan?” The barista called out. 

Evan felt his face heat up. Nate’s head swung in Evan’s direction. He swallowed hard, pocketing his phone, and stepping up to the counter to grab his coffee, doing his best to look as if he hadn’t been eavesdropping.

“Evan?” 

He turned to look at… Nate. Nate was standing there, he was standing there with a friend, he was standing with a friend wearing a nice button down and a floral tie and he knew what Evan looked like. “Hello?” Evan said, confused. 

“Sorry, uh. You don’t know me. I’m Nate.” He extended his hand to shake Evan’s. Evan shook his back numbly. 

“Nate, hi,” Evan said, trying to paste on a smile. “Connor’s…” He couldn’t say “told me so much about you” because that was a flat out lie. “You know Connor.”

Nate’s smile drooped. “I sure do.”

Evan felt his face heating up. Nate’s friend looked very uncomfortable beside him. 

“It’s nice to meet you,” Evan said politely. 

“Yeah,” Nate said. “How are you  _ doing _ ? Connor said how sick you were.”

Evan swallowed hard. His face and ears heated up. “Yeah… I’m. Uh. Good. Doing… doing better.” 

Nate’s smile disappeared. “Great. How good for you.” 

Evan wanted to sink into the floor. It felt like this guy’s grey eyes were pinning him to the spot, like they were cataloguing all of the things obviously wrong with Evan. Evan self consciously pulled the sleeves of his shirt down, trying not to appear super obvious. 

“Well, I -” Evan said, trying to step away from the conversation with whatever shred of dignity he might have left. 

Nate spoke again, his voice sharp and biting. “Connor is… he’s a really good guy. A really good guy. You’re so lucky to have him.” 

Evan stared, open mouthed, confused. “I don’t… I don’t have him. We’re. Just. Friends.” 

Nate laughed hollowly. “Bullshit. Connor tried that line on me too and… Look I don’t know what the pair of you are, but there’s nothing just about it.” He shook his head, looking disgusted. “He picked you. And you… broke him. You broke this good, kind, beautiful guy… And I really. I’m looking at you now and I don’t get it.” 

“Don’t get what?” Evan said, voice hoarse. 

“How he can let  _ you _ of all people break him.”

Evan opened and closed his mouth soundlessly, feeling like someone had switched his voice off, like someone had muted him. 

Because honestly Evan wondered that all of the goddamn time. Because Graham had wanted to know that about him too. Because he broke good, kind people. 

“He deserves better,” Nate started again. 

“Nate dude, lay off,” his friend said. “Sorry,” he said, towing Nate away none too gently. “He just got dumped he’s being a jerk.” Nate’s friend looped an arm around Nate’s shoulders, and Evan heard him mutter, “Are you crazy? You said Connor’s ex was a lunatic and you wanted to  _ confront him?  _ For fuck’s sake man, he could be fucking violent -”

Evan watched as Nate and his friend left. 

His mouth felt extremely dry. 

_ “And you… broke him.”  _

His heart squeezed painfully. 

He… 

Evan knew how much he had hurt Connor, knew he had caused him so much pain but… 

He had thought he was responsible for the damage Connor had done to himself in the other reality. Evan had blamed himself for Connor’s recklessness with his own life, he had blamed himself for the pain Connor suffered, the way his body had struggled to recover, the way Connor had felt the need to hide things from Evan because he was a mess. 

But… Nate said Evan had broken him. Zoe said Evan had broken everything. He broke things. 

And Evan… probably  _ was _ responsible. He had broken Connor. He had worn him down, used him up. Just like he had been afraid he would, just like he warned Connor that he might. 

Fuck and Connor wanted Evan to come by to have dinner later… 

Fuck. 

And then there was that thing his friend said about Nate only wanting people who needed saving? What the… that was wrong. 

Connor needed no saving. 

Connor was the strongest person Evan knew, he was practically unbreakable, he was strong and kind...

He was always the one saving Evan. 

They’d actually talked it out a little once, when Evan was still in treatment, Connor deflecting and saying,  _ “Oh if I do it five times I get the merit badge.”  _ Evan was the weaker one, the sicker one, the one who needed looking after and babysitting, the one too pathetic to actually keep himself alive without some kind of supervision. 

But Connor? Connor was strong and solid and a fighter, he was a fighter, and Evan had… broken that in him. He’d used all of Connor up and now strangers thought he needed saving. 

_ Not strangers,  _ he remembered.  _ Ex-boyfriends.  _

Fuck Evan hated that. 

Evan pulled his phone out, his hands a little shaky, and tapped out a message to Connor.  _ “I’m so so so sorry but I think I have to cancel. Kind of having a bad brain day. Just going to to crash when I get back to Alex and Mattie’s. Hope I’m not wrecking your evening. I’m really sorry.”  _

Connor texted back almost immediately.  _ “Is everything okay?” _

_ “I’m fine, just kind of exhausted. A lot going on. Raincheck?” _

Evan’s eyes stung because he was too weak to just tell Connor he couldn’t see him because he was responsible for Connor being broken, being hurt. He wasn’t strong enough to try to send him away or protect him, he wasn’t strong enough to admit that if he explained what he really felt Connor would leave and never ever come back. 

He took his coffee and headed back to Alex and Mattie’s apartment. He drank about half of the latte before he gave up, his stomach twisting with guilt too much to drink anymore. He poured it down the drain and went back to bed, feeling drained, just down to the bone exhausted. Evan pulled the covers over his head in the spare room. Before long, he fell asleep. 


	140. ONE HUNDRED AND THIRTY-NINE

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> “I just wanted not to be alone. It was stupid. It’s better to be alone than with someone you don’t love.”

Evan woke up to the sound of the apartment buzzer sounding. He blinked a few times, confused, and poked his head out of the spare room and saying, “Alex? Mattie?”

There was no response. 

The buzzer rang again. 

Evan frowned at it. 

Decided to ignore it and go back to sleep. 

But then his phone began to vibrate from the bed. Evan went to fetch it and saw that Connor was calling him. Evan watched it ring, hesitating over whether he should answer. 

He debated so long that the call stopped. 

And a text followed. 

_ “Hey I’m outside. Buzz me in?” _

And then another text a moment later.  _ “I brought food.”  _

Evan wasn’t sure he could handle facing Connor, but he couldn’t just leave him outside. It was unusually cold for May and Evan didn’t want him to catch a chill. He went to the front door and buzzed Connor inside. A moment later, there was a knock on the door to the apartment. 

Evan pulled the door open and Connor was standing there with a canvas bag and a pot wrapped up in tea towels. “Hi,” He said, surprised. “What’s... what’s all this?”

“I’d already started cooking when you texted,” Connor said, stepping inside. “And I figured even if you weren’t having an awesome day, you could at least have an awesome dinner. Besides, you got a new job! We should celebrate!”

Evan felt like he might crumble into a million pieces. He felt delicate and on the verge of collapse. “You didn’t have to, I just, I mean… That-that’s so nice.” His eyes stung and Evan blinked rapidly, trying to hold back the tears that just fucking… happened now. He just. Fucking cried all the damn time and he just had to deal with it. 

Connor was being so fucking nice. So fucking kind and nice and Evan didn’t deserve it he didn’t deserve it he didn’t he didn’t he’d broken Connor he’d broken him he’d broken  _ everything  _ -

Connor set the food down on the counter in the mostly untouched kitchen and looked at Evan with big concerned eyes. “What’s wrong?”

“I’m okay,” Evan said, swallowing, trying to breathe but struggling to do so evenly. “I just. This is really nice. You’re so…  _ so _ nice to me and I am. I’m an asshole and you sh-shouldn’t be nice to me, you just sh-shouldn’t because I’m the  _ worst _ I’m-I’m such a fuck up and I was horrible to you and you j-just shouldn’t be nice to me I don’t deserve it I don’t-”

Connor walked over to Evan and grabbed his hand, squeezing it gently. “What’s going on?”

“I-I…” Evan tried to take a breath but Connor was holding his hand and his brain wasn’t working, it just wasn’t working. “I went to get coffee earlier?” He mumbled stupidly, stumbling over his words. 

“Okay?” Connor said, his eyebrows knitting together, clearly not following. 

“I…” Evan couldn’t meet his eyes. He looked at the floor. “I bumped into Nate.”

“Shit,” Connor said. “Fuck, I…” 

“Apparently he knows what I look like? And uh. He said some stuff…” Evan shook his head, “It doesn’t matter. He just. He seemed, uh, pretty um. Pretty pissed. At-at me?” Evan stared harder at the floor, willing himself not to cry. “Connor… If I’m the reason you two broke up… I. I just want you to be h-happy, I don’t want to ruin things for you I don’t want that I… I’ll back off or-or leave you alone if…”

“No,” Connor said firmly, so firmly that Evan looked up at him. He looked… so fucking sad. Just devastated. “I… broke up with Nate because... Honestly because I’m shitty at relationships.” 

“No you’re -”

“I don’t know what I’m doing and I’m… sort of a dick sometimes and… It wasn’t because of you.” Connor still hadn’t let go of Evan’s hand. “Why? Is that what he said? That you broke us up?”

Evan shook his head. “Not exactly, just that… we were… codependent and weird.” Evan sniffed, looking away. He still felt crushed by the other things that Nate had said, but he couldn’t tell Connor because… He didn’t need to know Nate thought he was broken. That he blamed Evan for that damage. Telling Connor that would only hurt Connor. 

And besides, Connor wasn’t broken. He was… so strong and so wonderful and Evan would never ever call him broken. Never again. 

“Look,” Connor said. “I’m sorry he said that to you. That was out of line.” He shook his head. “Fuck... I’m sorry.”

“It’s not your fault,” Evan said quietly. “Honestly I was… mostly just surprised he knew what I looked like?”

Connor’s face went a bit pink. “He and I are facebook friends. I think I still have a few pictures up from, you know, before?”

“Oh,” Evan said. “Right.” He stared at the floor. “You… told him why I went away?”

Connor flinched. “Yeah… I. I thought I owed him an explanation since…. Yeah.”

Evan nodded, chewing his lip. 

“Evan, you are not the reason Nate and I broke up. Okay? I’m sorry if that was what he told you.”

Evan tried to breathe and believe him but he still had this nagging, terrible guilt pooling in his guts. He’d fucked up so much for Connor. He had fucked it all up for him. 

“Hey,” Connor said. “Come on. I made dinner. We should eat before it gets cold, okay?”

Evan agreed because he knew it made Connor happy to feed him. And Evan owed Connor whatever happiness he could give him. He owed him… everything. Everything. 

Connor had made lamb shanks and Evan’s heart flip flopped so aggressively he feared that he might start to out and out cry. He’d made those for Valentine’s Day, the year they were together… 

They’d eaten them together after Connor had basically broken Evan’s brain with sex. He’d tied Evan up and… 

Fuck he couldn’t be thinking about that. He couldn’t be thinking about the intimate parts of their previous relationship because… it hurt. To think about Connor that way, knowing that Connor had probably slept with Nate, maybe he had tied Nate up and broken his brain, maybe he had made this dinner for him, maybe he had even loved Nate. Knowing that they’d never have that kind of thing again… that Evan and Connor were so over was. Unbearable. 

But the food was good. And Evan was appreciative. “You didn’t need to go all out like this,” Evan said to Connor, feeling a bit bashful. 

“This is a big deal, dude,” Connor said like it was nothing. “I wanted to celebrate your success. You’ve… come really fucking far. You should be so proud of yourself.”

Evan did tear up then. Just a little. He blinked rapidly, and to his relief, Connor didn’t comment on it.

* * *

Connor’s pleased to see that Evan’s eating the lamb shanks and clearly enjoying them, even though part of him thinks it was probably kind of inappropriate to make them in the first place, considering that the last time he made them was for Valentine’s Day, the one Valentine’s Day he and Evan spent as a couple. 

Still, Evan deserves something nice. He deserves to celebrate. 

Connor refuses to let Nate have ruined Evan’s excitement over getting a job. 

Fuck. 

Fuck, what the fuck, why the  _ fuck _ would Nate even talk to Evan? What did he think it would possibly accomplish?

Connor’s pretty fucking sure that Evan’s absolutely underplaying what happened, that there’s something he’s not telling him, but he’s also pretty sure he doesn’t want to know. 

Nate always seemed to think that Connor was… 

Vulnerable?

Breakable.

Easily hurt. 

And that kind of pissed him off a little. 

A lot, actually. 

Ever since the coma, ever since he got sick, people have felt sorry for him. Pitied him. And Connor wants to be understanding, wants to see their point, wants to be able to remember that it comes from a place of caring or whatever, but it just feels like people think he’s weak. 

They don’t see how hard he’s worked, they don’t see how much he’s fought, and it hurts. It hurts to not be acknowledged, to be underestimated, to…

_ “Do you have any idea how exhausting it is to take care of you day in and day out? Do you have any concept of how unbelievably boring it is, babysitting you and making sure you eat and sleep and shower?” _

Connor never wants to feel that helpless again. 

Never wants to make anyone feel like they have to take care of him. 

A part of Connor thinks that Nate enjoyed being the knight in shining armor, someone who could swoop in and fix him, and that…

Connor can save himself. 

He  _ did _ save himself. 

Fuck, there was a reason he never wanted Nate and Evan to meet. He knew it wouldn’t go well. As much as Nate tried to be understanding about Connor being friends with his ex, there were the off-hand comments that annoyed him, that made Connor feel like Nate saw Evan as this horrible, vindictive person who’d kicked Connor when he was down, who’d deserted him in his hour of need, and that’s…

Connor runs his hand through his hair distractedly. Evan frowns. Looks at him questioningly. 

“You okay?”

“I’m fine,” he says immediately. “I’m really sorry about Nate. Do you want me to talk to him?”

Evan’s eyes widen. “God, no.”

“Good,” Connor says with a roll of his eyes. “I… I probably wouldn’t exactly be kind. I’m really fucking sorry.”

“It makes sense that he’s upset,” Evan says, his voice hesitant. “He just got dumped.” Evan’s face clouds over. “I’m sorry I kind of… assumed he’d been the one to call it off. It’s just that you were so upset-”

“I’m fine,” Connor interrupts. He tries to smile. “I was just being kind of emo about it all.”

Evan tilts his head a little. “How so?”

Connor sighs. “I just… it’s totally my fault, honestly. I was kind of an asshole to him. I kept cancelling plans and forgetting to text and blowing him off and…” He sighs again. “I’m bad at relationships, which of course I always suspected, but it did kind of suck to have that confirmed.”

Evan blinks. “You’re not bad at relationships.” His face colors a little. “When… when we were together, you did fine.”

“It was always easy with you,” Connor says, before he can stop himself. “You’re my best friend. We… it’s always easy with you.”

Evan’s eyes widen a little. “Yeah,” he says, his voice so soft. “You’re my best friend, too.”

“I just wanted…”

Connor trails off, feeling his eyes sting.

He swallows hard. 

“Wanted what?” Evan asks, his voice barely above a whisper.

Connor shrugs. Doesn’t look at Evan. “I just wanted not to be alone,” he confesses quietly. “It was stupid. It’s… it’s better to be alone than with someone you don’t love.”

_ You would know, _ Connor wants to say to Evan.  _ It’s why you left me, isn’t it? _

Instead, he grabs some glasses from the cupboard and takes a bottle of sparkling cider from his bag. Pours two glasses, then hands one to Evan. 

“Let’s toast to your new job,” he says, determinedly changing the subject. “Congratulations.”

Evan takes the glass and smiles, a real smile. 

They clink their glasses together and it sounds a little like music.

* * *

Evan was on his way back to Alex and Mattie’s place, having just come from a showing of a sublet that he’d found on Craigslist. The place was, in a word, gross. Musty and dark and there was a lot of mildew and mold in the bathroom. He was pretty disappointed. The photos had made it seem promising, and Evan was starting to feel like he was really overstaying his welcome at Alex and Mattie’s. He knew they would never say anything, especially since they had given up their old place together while he was away, but Evan wanted to let them have their space just be their space. Plus sometimes about still being a guest in someone’s apartment when he started his new job felt… wrong somehow. Like he ought to be more grown up than that. 

Evan texted Connor to express his disappointment in the apartment.  _ “Mold in the shower. Smelled like weed AND feet somehow. Ugh. Half of me is just so tired of looking that I almost just want to take it.” _

Connor replied almost immediately,  _ “Do not take it.”  _

_ “I just really feel like I’m overstaying at Alex and Mattie’s, you know? I’ve been there for nearly a month.” _

Evan watched the text bubble appear and disappear a few times. He worried Connor might think Evan was fishing for an invite to stay in Connor’s spare room, and Evan started to tap out a reply saying he wasn’t asking to stay at Connor’s when finally, Connor said,  _ “I’ll come with you to the next one. The next one will be better.” _

Evan smiled.  _ “I hope so.” _

Evan started to cross the street, doublechecking for buses and other traffic because he was trying to remember not to take stupid risks anymore, and he spotted a familiar looking pair of combat boots among the other feet who were traversing the crosswalk. Evan looked up, surprised, and saw that Otis was walking just a few paces ahead of him, eyes on his phone, a frown on his face. 

“Otis?” Evan said when they reached the other side of the road and the crowd of other pedestrians disbursed a little. 

Otis turned, looking a bit alarmed, and blinked a few times. “Hi?” He said. 

Evan understood. “Hey. It’s Evan. I’m the… You know me. You visited me in the treatment center a couple of times?” 

Otis’s face broke out in a relieved smile. “Sorry,” He said, “Sometimes if I see one of you out of context, it's a bit…”

Evan smiled. “Don’t worry about it. I get it. I get what it’s like to, uh, not be sure.” He pushed his hands into his pockets. “What are you doing in this area?”

Otis nodded a little to himself. “Oh, uh. I’ve been doing guitar lessons? Mostly I’ve been doing them at Connor’s place, but there’s this afterschool program for underprivileged kids over here that sometimes calls me if they need a sub or whatever?”

“That’s really cool!” Evan said. “Do you like teaching?”

Otis nodded. “I do, yeah. Kids are usually kinder. Even the cruel ones, they usually… They can learn, if they try. And playing guitar helps me a lot, so I like helping others learn. Sometimes it helps to be helpful.”

“Totally,” Evan said with a nod. Then, feeling suddenly bold, he said, “Hey, what are you doing right now? Would you want to grab coffee or something?”

Otis smiled at Evan, almost shyly. “Oh. Yeah, that would… I’d like that.” Something in his face shifted slightly. “You’re always kind to me. Always.”

Evan felt cold at his words, but he tried not to let it show. Otis couldn’t help what happened to him. He couldn’t help that he bounced between realities, and Evan knew if the situation were reversed he would cope far less well. And he absolutely wouldn’t be so kind or so generous. 

Otis and Evan trooped into a nearby cafe, and Evan was grateful to be back indoors. It was a fairly mild May day, but the wind had picked up and the weather forecast was predicting rain. Evan was still dealing with feeling constantly just a little bit too cold, and he figured ducking inside somewhere warm and dry might be for the best. 

The cafe wasn’t empty but it wasn’t full either. The air smelled like coffee and was full of warm, friendly chatter and the whirl of the espresso machine. Evan ordered an almond milk latte, pulling out his wallet, and then turned to ask Otis what he would like.

“I’ve got it,” Otis said with a smile. “You don’t even know how many meals you’ve bought me over the years. It’s my treat, please.”

Normally Evan would argue. But Otis’s eyes were clear and determined and Evan figured, okay, he could let Otis buy him coffee. Just this once. “Okay,” Evan said. “Thank you.”

Otis beamed back at him, and ordered a black coffee. He put cash on the counter and then stuck a few dollars in the tip jar. 

Once they had their orders, Evan and Otis retreated to a somewhat secluded table near the front of the coffeeshop. It was warm and sunny in the spot still, and Otis put his guitar case on the floor beside him, away from other customers. 

“How long have you been playing?” Evan asked him, taking a sip of his coffee. 

Otis smiled. “Since I was a teenager.”

“You’re really talented,” Evan went on. “Every time I’ve heard you play it’s been… really good.” He felt his face get warm. “Sorry I don’t really know anything about music? But, like. You’re great.”

Otis smiled at that. “Thank you.” He shook his head a little. “Is it ever weird for you?” He looked so… young then. Evan felt like he could see a glimpse of who Otis might have been as a teenager from under the frown he was wearing. 

“Is what?”

“Having normal conversations? Just, getting coffee and talking?”

“After everything?” Evan said, nodding. “Absolutely. I… Sometimes it freaks me out so much I just want to go back to bed. It feels almost like I’m faking it, you know?”  
Otis nodded, his eyes clear and sad. “Exactly.” He shrugged. “It’s not always easy. The cracks are healing but… they’re still there. Like scars.”

“Yeah,” Evan said, feeling like he knew what Otis meant. “Scars fade over time,” He volunteered suddenly. 

Otis seemed to agree. “They do. But the carousel never stops turning.” 

That was the fucking truth if Evan had ever heard it. 

He asked Otis more about him teaching guitar. Otis lit up and said he was teaching a regular at the bookstore how to play a love song for their partner’s birthday. How they had a good voice but were sort of hesitant with their strumming, so they were working on building up their confidence in it together. “Being unsure makes them rush or fall behind,” Otis said. “So I try to be a place where they can go at their own pace until it feels right.”

Evan swallowed hard, weirdly moved by that. “You’re… You know you’re genuinely great, right? Not a lot of people have that sort of patience.”

“I know,” Otis said. “It’s hard to learn to be patient with yourself.”

Evan nodded. 

They ended up chatting for a few hours. After a while, the owner of the cafe stopped over and told Otis they used to see him playing around the area from time to time. “Do you ever take gigs?”  
Otis shrugged, looking uncomfortable. “Not really. I’d like to but… My schedule is a little…”

“Take my card,” The cafe owner said. “It’s not much, but we’d pay to have you come in and do thirty minutes or an hour. Think about it.”

Otis nodded, his face carved into a stony smile, and pocketed the card. Evan gave him a questioning look when the cafe owner strode away. “Can we get out of here?” Otis asked quietly. 

Evan nodded, gathering his things and following Otis out of the coffee shop quickly. “Are you alright?”

Otis sucked in a deep breath. Nodded. “I… He’s asked me. To play, elsewhere. And I. Every time, I…” He shook his head. “I’m not the most reliable. Because of…”

Evan nodded, understanding. 

“It’s just hard. I don’t want to let people down…”

“But you can’t control it,” Evan said, frowning. “That sounds so hard. I’m really sorry man.”

Otis shrugged. “It just. I could use the money? Not like. In desperate need or whatever, just. I can’t always work and…”

Evan frowned deeper. “Shouldn’t you have some benefits to fall back on? Connor said you were seeing a doctor at the VA. There should be financial help since you’re a vet.”

Otis nodded. “I get something,” He said. “But it’s not much.”

Evan chewed his lip for a moment. “I don’t want to overstep… but if you want I can take a look into it for you? See if there’s a way to work with the VA for you?”  
Otis shook his head. “I couldn’t. I couldn’t afford you, no offense.”

Evan laughed at that. Everyone could afford him; right now he had the legal reputation of a cat in a wet paper bag who couldn’t claw its way out. “Otis, I wouldn’t charge you, oh my god. We’re... friends.”

Otis’s face had gone pink. “I… That’s too much. I can’t accept that, I… It’s too much.”

Evan rolled his eyes. “It’s really not,” He said. “You and Connor looked after each other while I was off… being full time crazy. If anything, I owe you for being there when I wasn’t. Let me take a look into it, okay? For me. I… I just want to be able to do something.”

Otis gave Evan a long, measured look. “I can’t accept it for free.”

“Fine,” Evan said, grinning. “If I’m able to swing you some more money, you can pay me in coffee. Sound like a deal?”

Otis smiled, almost shyly. “You have always been kind to me. You’re just… you’re always kind.”

Evan knew that categorically was not true. He was cruel a lot. Mean a lot of the time. Horrible, awful, genuinely terrible. He was trying to be better but the successes were limited. “I try,” he said after a pregnant pause. “I don’t always get it right, but I try.”

“All you can do.”

* * *

The week before Evan was due to start his new job, he got an email from Sabrina asking if he wanted to meet for coffee. He responded right away agreeing and they picked a coffeeshop in Sabrina’s neighborhood. 

Evan felt nervous about seeing Sabrina. Their last communication had been a rather short email while he was still in treatment where she said she wasn’t ready to speak to him again. So the invitation to meet in person surprised Evan. 

But he decided to meet her anyway, because he missed talking to her. He missed Sabrina and he wanted the chance to apologize to her in person. 

Despite it being so close to the end of May, the day Evan and Sabrina met was chilly. Cloudy with rain in the forecast and highs barely cracking the fifties. Evan obsessed over what to wear to meet her the whole night before, wanting to look presentable but not like he was trying too hard, and then the rain swept in and decided for him that no matter how he dressed he was going to look like a drowned rat. 

He’d picked out a t-shirt that didn’t predate his undergrad and a flannel that Evan was seventy percent sure actually belonged to Connor but had somehow migrated into his things this winter during the week when Evan stayed with him before going to treatment. It was blue and gray and Evan wasn’t really the sort of person who actively wore flannels but this one had just become a part of his wardrobe without him even really noticing. It was soft. Warm. Good for layering up. 

He got to the cafe first. If this were the old day, Evan thought wistfully, he would buy Sabrina’s coffee as part of his apology. But it wasn’t the old days, and Evan worried if he presumed to know her coffee order after several months of not speaking, it would do more harm than good. Evan considered the menu, hanging over the counter, and realized he could hardly read it. Frowning, Evan went into his bag and pulled out his glasses, slipping them on and marveling a little at how everything suddenly snapped into perfect focus.

Sabrina arrived in an emerald green raincoat, sporting a black and blue striped umbrella. She did not break out in one of her characteristically wide smiles when she saw Evan, but she did smile at him, so he took it as a win.

“Hey,” Evan said, trying not to come across as overly enthusiastic or like he was trying too hard. “How are you?”

Sabrina’s smile stayed sort of frozen. “I’m alright,” She said, “Have you already ordered?”

Evan shook his head. “I just got here. Figured I should wait for you.”

“Ah,” She said blandly, walking toward the register. Evan followed. When the barista asked for Sabrina’s order, Evan realized that by not ordering for her he had probably pissed her off. Her order was the same as ever. “And then whatever he’s having,” She said to the barista. Evan mumbled his request for an almond milk latte and then handed over his card before Sabrina had finished taking her wallet out of her bag. “Thank you,” She said to Evan, her smile a little warmer after that. 

Evan smiled back. 

Once they had their drinks, Evan let Sabrina lead them to a table near a fireplace. Evan was a little surprised to see that there was a fire burning still in May, but considering the awful weather, he appreciated the proximity to a heat source. He still got cold pretty fast these days. 

Sabrina settled her mug in front of her and then gave Evan a long, quiet look. 

And he realized she expected him to speak first. 

So Evan cleared his throat. “Thank you, uh. For. Asking to talk in person?”

“You’re welcome,” She said. 

“How are things at school?” Evan asked, thinking he was allowed to have a few moments of small talk before they got into it. “The year’s almost over… is your class climbing the walls yet?”

Sabrina smiled a little. “Yeah, it’s always a struggle right before Memorial Day.” She sighed, twisting the wedding band she wore now around her finger. She gave Evan a hard look. “You’re wearing glasses.”

“Oh,” Evan said, his face coloring. “Yeah.” He was embarrassed not to have taken them off. 

“They look nice.”

“Thanks,” Evan said.

“Look -”

“I’m sorry,” Evan said at the same moment. He flinched, not wanting to have interrupted, and then tried again. “Shit. Sorry. Y-you were saying?”

Sabrina’s smile had been replaced by a sad expression. “I… I don’t know what to say? Like. This whole situation sucks.”

“Yeah,” Evan said because he could not agree with her more. He took a sip of his coffee. “I am really glad you agreed to talk to me, even though it sucks. I’ve been wanting to apologize to you in person.” He sucked in a breath. Let it out. 

“Okay,” Sabrina said, her voice tentative and awkward. 

“I am really sorry, Sabrina. I am genuinely so damn sorry about how I treated you and the awful things I said. I was… cruel and I lashed out at you and that was unbelievably unfair. I know you were just trying to help and I am really sorry.”

Sabrina nodded. “Thank you for apologizing.” Her tone felt. Guarded. Almost impersonal. 

“I know I… In the past I’ve treated you like you didn’t matter,” Evan said, guilt coloring his words. “I know I’ve acted like our history… Like your friendship wasn’t important to me and I am so sorry.”

Sabrina nodded. Sipped her coffee. Waited for him to go on. 

“You… you’re one of the people who has always been important to me,” Evan pressed on. “And you were like. The only person who was there for me when Connor and I broke up. You were the only one who wanted to hear my side and… I feel terrible that I behaved like that wasn’t important. And I’m so sorry. I wish I could take it all back. I let my… my fear that you were judging me get in the way. And I’m sorry.”

Sabrina looked at him sadly. “I still can’t believe you’re talking to him after he cheated on you. With a fucking Canadian.”

Evan felt his face heat up with shame. 

“He did cheat, right?” Sabrina said. “When I talked to him he… he basically told me to mind my own business.”

Evan picked at his cuticles. Bit his lip. “It’s… it’s complicated. I made it out to be a lot more black and white than it really was -”

Sabrina smiled, but it didn’t reach her eyes. “What, did he… kind of cheat? Play just the tip with the Canadian? I… either he cheated or he didn’t Ev, there’s no gray areas here.”

Evan bit his lip harder. “I. The situation was a… a mess.” 

Sabrina frowned. “Either he cheated or he didn’t. Either you told me the truth, or you lied to me. I want to know which it is.” 

Evan sighed heavily. “Like I said, it’s not quite that straightforward. At the time, I guess, I thought we were, you know. I thought Connor and I were together. And I guess. He didn’t.”

“When was this?” Sabrina asked. 

“Before he got sick,” Evan said evasively. 

“Then it’s bullshit. You were together before that. He’s… I don’t like how he’s acting. Like you’re a liar who spread a rumor to make yourself look better. I hate that.”

“I don’t think…” Evan sighed, frustrated. “I didn’t come here to talk about Connor.”

“So you’re still hanging out with him? You’re just going to keep him around?”

Evan nodded. “Yeah.”

“Even though he’s a lying cheater who -”

“Please don’t,” Evan said softly. “In the grand scheme of things, I think we can both agree that bailing on someone a month after they woke up from a coma is worse than sleeping with someone else while your relationship wasn’t exactly clearly defined.” 

Sabrina snapped her mouth shut. Sipped her coffee, though Evan suspected it was more because she wanted something to do with her hands. She looked out the window, her cheeks coloring, and Evan wanted to kick himself for saying anything. 

“I owe you another apology, Sabrina,” Evan swallowed hard, needing to get the next words out. “The thing I said about… When I said you loved me more than you love Graham, Sabrina, I am so fucking sorry. I never -I- I -”

“You weren’t exactly wrong,” Sabrina said shortly, twisting her wedding band around her finger. 

Evan felt as if the wind had been knocked out of him. “What?” He practically whispered. His head was reeling. That… He had said that to hurt her. He had said that because he knew she got embarrassed sometimes, about their friendship, about how it looked to people on the outside. 

“I… Graham and I got together only a few months after I moved back home when we broke up,” Sabrina said, shaking her head. “And, well. Turns out you can’t just… decide you don’t love someone anymore. I’ve been… Graham and I are in counseling, and I’m seeing someone on my own. It’s been… difficult, honestly, trying to work it all out.” She twisted her ring around her finger again. “I… You and I got together when we were young, and I have so many memories of the two of us together and… I was blindsided when you broke up with me. And I realize now that part of the reason I wanted so desperately to still be your friend was… because I wasn’t over you. Not totally. Not really. I was. Trying to find a way to have both. To have my loving, devoted partner and my best friend who didn’t love me anymore. I guess… I thought if we were friends, I didn’t have to think about why I wanted you around.”

Fucking hell, no wonder Graham hated Evan’s guts. 

“I didn’t know,” Evan said softly, embarrassed, his face and ears growing hot. “Sabrina I’m really sorry. I... ”

She rolled her eyes. “You  _ knew _ . Of course you knew. You… You’re smart. Intuitive. And you have always known how to read me.”

“I was… I was just being an asshole,” Evan said, frowning. “I just. I said it because I was angry and you… you were telling me things about myself I didn’t want to hear.”

“Yeah well that’s a thing I do, I guess,” Sabrina said, her voice dangerously close to bitter. She spun her wedding band around her finger again and again, the movement hypnotic almost. Spellbinding. Evan didn’t know what he was supposed to say to that. He let it sit for a while, until it became clear that Sabrina wasn’t going to speak until he did, until the soft background noise of the cafe became unbearably loud. 

“I’m really sorry,” Evan said. “I… That was a horrible thing to throw in your face the way I did and I’m really sorry.”

Sabrina nodded. “Thank you.”

The silence at the table fell uncomfortably thick. Evan didn’t know what to make of Sabrina saying that he had been right to accuse her of still having feelings for him. He didn’t understand, frankly, because during their relationship she… always wanted him to be different. Be better. Be someone Evan just wasn’t. It didn’t make sense to him to learn she was still hanging on to that, because from where Evan had been standing, she hadn’t been happy when they were together. She had wanted him to be different, and when he realized there was no way he could ever be what she wanted, Evan had ended things. 

“I… Can I ask something?” Evan voiced this cautiously. 

Sabrina nodded. 

“I… Were you happy when we were together?” Evan asked. 

Sabrina looked surprised. “Yeah.”

Evan wanted to know more. “But… were you happy with  _ me _ ?”

“I don’t understand,” Sabrina said, her brows knitted together in confusion, her nose wrinkled slightly. 

“Because it… For me, a lot of the time, it felt like you were just waiting around for me to. I dunno. Become… someone else. Someone more stable and secure and.” He gave her a lopsided smile. “We both know that was never really me.”

Sabrina looked out the window. “I know how stupid it sounds…” She said. “But part of me… part of me thought that. That when I got engaged… how you almost… I thought. That it meant you still, like, cared.”

Evan sighed. “Of course I cared,” He said. “It’s not like I didn’t  _ care _ .”

Sabrina frowned. “Like I said, I know how stupid and selfish that makes me sound.”

“I cared, Sabrina,” Evan said, honestly. “I was. I won’t pretend that I wasn’t, like, really fucking sad to learn you were engaged to someone else. But I… Things had been building up and getting bad for me for, like, a few years by that point. It… I wasn’t okay. And part of me was honestly relieved that you had found someone who made you happy…”

Sabrina chewed her lip. Twisted her ring. 

“I mean, if we’re being honest, it always made sense to me that you found someone 

like Graham because… Graham is the sort of guy who you always wanted me to be.”

“And what sort of guy is that?” Sabrina asked, narrowing her eyes. 

“Steady. Certain,” Evan said. “Not… seriously mentally ill.”

“You’re not  _ seriously  _ mentally ill,” Sabrina protested. 

Evan wrinkled his nose. “Actually I kind of am,” He said, trying not to let his irritation bleed into his words. “I…I went away for two months to try and work on getting better because I was actively planning to end my life. And there’s a lot of shit I am still working through, but the primary diagnosis I’ve been given isn’t, like, a walk in the park to deal with on a good day.”

“Are you sure they’re right about that?” Sabrina said. “The borderline thing?”

Evan nodded. “Yeah. I’m sure.”

“You could be misdiagnosed. Because you’re not… violent or, like, really angry -”

“Physically? No, I’m not violent. And I’m definitely angry. I mean the reason we’re here is in part so I can apologize for the awful, abusive things I said to you. So.” 

Sabrina frowned more. “But you’re better now.”

Evan shook his head, “No. I’m getting better. I’m getting help. But I’m not, like, fixed. There’s no fixed when it comes to this stuff.”

Sabrina stared into her coffee cup for a long moment. “I really want us to be able to be friends again,” She said. “I really miss you.”

Evan couldn’t deny that he missed her too. “I would really like that, Sabrina. You’re one of the best friends I’ve ever had. I hate that I’ve fucked that up so much.”

“One of?” Sabrina parrotted, looking upset. 

Evan felt caught. 

“You mean Connor,” She said, her voice flat. Cold, almost. 

“He… Yeah. I mean, that’s. We’re friends -”

“You’re so fucking full of shit Evan,” Sabrina said, her eyes narrowed, her tone sharp. “You’re obviously still in love with him. I mean for fuck’s sake, you’re dressed like him right now. I bet you’re wearing his clothes. It’s like he… consumed you.”

Evan recoiled like she had slapped him. 

“I just don’t understand,” Sabrina pressed on. “If I ever said something that wasn’t, like, wildly supportive or in total agreement with you, you lose your shit and cut me off. But Connor! Connor cheats on you and nearly dies and lies to you for months, and you go running back to him at the first opportunity.”

“That’s not fair -”

“Why him?” She demanded, her eyes glittering suddenly. “Why did you only start to get better once he was in the picture when I tried for-for years! I tried and tried, and I stuck around when you two broke up, and still! You wouldn’t try for me, but you tried for him.”

“That’s not - I…”

“You only wanted to get better for him, never for me.”

“I wasn’t trying for him!” Evan said, hurt. “I…  _ Sabrina. _ ”

“What does he have that I don’t, huh? What did he do that I never did? Because I stuck around-”

“ I… You’re with Graham, you got  _ married _ -“

“I wanted to help, even when everyone else had written you off. When even your mom was done with you, I still cared. Why wasn’t I enough of a reason for you to try?”

“Because you wanted me to get better for you,” Evan snapped. 

Sabrina’s eyes went wide. 

“You wanted me to get better  _ for  _ you. For your sake. Because my being… being sick was inconveniencing you, was hindering you, was making things hard for you. It was never about the fact that I was in pain. You wanted me to get better to, like, prove I loved you and… that’s not how this works.”

“I…”

“I know to you it must look like Connor, I dunno, had the magic wand that made me not want to die or whatever,” Evan said softly. “But… That is not it. He… People don’t save other people, they have to save themselves. And he. He’s just. Stood by me while I tried to work out how to do that. Connor doesn’t expect me to get better to make his life easier. Fuck, I don’t know if he expects anything at all from me anymore because of how much I fucked him over. But he wants me to get better because I… he thinks I matter. Even if I never amount to anything. And I’ve been in a lot of pain. Because I’ve spent the past two decades struggling just to stay alive. And Connor has been there, he knows what that’s like, and he knows it’s no way to live. He doesn’t want me to get better so that I’ll be, like, a better friend or-or boyfriend or whatever. He wants me to get better because he knows how painful it is to not be okay.”

Sabrina looked heartbroken. 

Evan sighed. Ran a hand through his hair. “I’m sorry. I know that wasn’t what you wanted to hear.”

Sabrina shook her head. “It doesn’t matter.”

“I really am sorry. I didn’t know… how you felt, I thought…” Evan didn’t know what he thought. He just felt like shit. 

“It doesn’t matter,” Sabrina said quietly. 

“I am… I’m really sorry. To hear you and Graham are having problems. I hope you’re able to work through them. He’s a good guy. You two… deserve to be happy.”

Sabrina sniffed. “Thank you.” She pulled her jacket back on. “I’m… I think I should go.”

Evan understood. He swallowed the lump in his throat. “Okay. I… thank you for coming? I really appreciate it.”

She nodded. “Be safe, okay?”

“You too.”

Evan wanted to ask if he would ever see her again. If this was the end of them, of Evan-and-Sabrina. If she needed time or space or if she was just finished. 

But he didn’t ask. Because Evan was scared he already knew her answer. 

Sabrina walked out of the cafe, out into the rain. Evan didn’t love watching her walk away. But he was glad they had talked. Even if it hadn’t made either of them happy, at least… at least the things that needed saying were said. 


	141. ONE HUNDRED AND FORTY

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> "If we’re going to be friends I need you to stop lying and not telling me things because you want to protect me.”

Evan started his new job and he really fucking liked it. The people were great, the work was interesting, and sometimes his boss brought her goldendoodle Chex to work with her. 

And now he’d found an apartment. 

But that didn’t mean Evan was any less… frustrated. Annoyed. Angry. He was sort of angry all of the time now, he realized. Which fucking sucked. It was distracting to just be sitting at his new desk, working through a grant proposal and suddenly be assaulted but a burst of anger about something totally unrelated. 

Oliver said that was normal. BPD often came with a lot of anger, unpredictable and sudden and not all of it justified, and Evan had been trying so hard for so long to just not be angry that when he felt it, it took over. 

“Tell me what you’re angry about,” Oliver said to him in their last session.

Evan chewed his lip. “It’s stupid. I don’t have any right to be angry.” Which was true. He really didn’t have any fucking right to be angry. Connor was his own person, the things Evan was upset about paled in comparison to what Evan had done to Connor, it wasn’t a fair feeling. 

“Let’s focus on how you feel,” Oliver said. “And try to keep the value judgment out of it, okay?”

Evan blew out a breath. Fucking Oliver and his fucking… therapy. “I’m angry about a lot of stuff. I’m angry at Sabrina because she can’t let go. I’m angry at my old roommates for, like. Being happy. Because it sort of sucks to see how happy they are when I’m still struggling. And I… I’m sort of pissed off at Connor.”

Oliver nodded, making a note on his clipboard. “Say more.”

“Well, he… he lied to me. He had a boyfriend, an entire relationship, for months without saying anything to me about it.” Evan chewed his lip more. “I just… I don’t think it’s fair.”

“That he lied?”

“Well yeah,” Evan said, still feeling frustrated. “He keeps telling me that I’m his best friend, that I’m important to him… but he keeps lying.”

“Keeps lying?” Oliver asked. “What do you mean?”

“Well I mean… one of the big reasons I broke up with him was because… because of lying.” Evan obviously hadn’t told Oliver the entire truth. There was no appropriate way to say your boyfriend had been briefly trapped in another universe and then lied to you about how he killed himself there to get back home. “I just…. He keeps lying to me.”

“Are you talking about Parker?”

Evan nodded because that was the only safe thing he could own up to in therapy about why he and Connor weren’t together anymore. That Connor had slept with someone else and lied to Evan about it. Only told him… months later. Edited truth and not entirely fair to Connor but… That had been what happened. Technically. Connor  _ had  _ slept with Parker and he  _ had  _ lied about it. He’d lied… to spare Evan’s feelings and it pissed him off. “I just. How am I supposed to trust him when he keeps making decisions to lie to me and then… when I find out he’s kinda like, ‘oh well I lied to you for your own good, I lied because I knew you couldn’t handle it.’ And yeah, the Parker thing… Connor had almost just died. I  _ couldn’t _ handle it when I found out, but…”

“So you’re angry because Connor… behaves as if he knows you better than you do?”

“Maybe?” Evan said, chewing his lip some more. “Or just. That he doesn’t trust me in general? And I’m working really fucking hard to be, like, a good friend and earn that back and he… keeps fucking lying. It… sucks.”

“Yeah,” Oliver said, nodding. “I’d be pissed off about that too.”

“You would?” Evan was surprised. He sort of… assumed that he was so messed up that his feelings were unintelligible to normal people.

“Yeah dude. If my boyfriend lied to me about cheating I’d be pissed. If my friend lied to me about having a boyfriend for some dumb reason, I’d be super pissed.”

“I just feel like… like I’m not allowed to be mad at him?”

“Because you left?”

Evan nodded. 

“Well… if the two of you are serious about being friends, it sounds like this is something you’ll need to deal with eventually. You can regret leaving and still want your current relationship to be based on honesty.” 

“Yeah,” Evan said. “I think, like, I’m pissed because he’d kept it from me. Keeps keeping things from me and then I… I don't get to make the decision about what I can handle.”

“Yeah,” Oliver said. “That’s not like, disproportionate anger. You’re not like, screaming at Connor for it or looking for ways to hurt him. You identified that you’re angry and figured out why. Knowing you’re angry and trying to manage it is… really great, Evan.” 

Evan frowned. “How is being angry good?”

“Because you want to manage it. You don’t want to fly off the handle at Connor. To me, it sounds like you’re struggling to find a way to  _ address  _ it. To confront Connor, but not attack. And that’s progress.”

Evan knew the apartment was not ideal, but it was the only place he could afford that wasn’t crawling with rodents or wouldn’t mean living alone. His new job meant a little bit of a pay cut and...

Evan didn’t trust himself to live alone right now, so. 

He found a sublet and he was going to make it work. His new roommates were a young married couple and both of them were in the process of writing their PhD dissertations. Cody was working on a PhD in philosophy and in their first conversation grilled Evan about his thoughts on Kantian ethics. Alice’s dissertation had something to do with Nathaniel Hawthorne and economics in pre-Civil War New England. Their previous roommate had been a loud acting MFA student, which apparently didn’t jive well with the atmosphere they were trying to cultivate. Those were Cody’s exact words. 

But it was cheap and not full of bugs and walking distance to Evan’s new job. And the apartment was on the first floor of a two storey building with no roof access, so he wasn’t about to complain. 

But Connor, however, kept voicing his concerns. “You sure you want to move in here?” He asked for the third time as they moved a box out of the living room and into Evan’s new bedroom. Connor insisted they hire movers because neither of them were in any physical shape for heavy lifting, and Evan hadn’t argued. But now they had to start unpacking and Evan regretted that he owned so many heavy law books. 

“It’s nice,” Evan said somewhat defensively as he put the box down on his bed. 

“Your new roommates are sort of intense.”

“I’m sort of intense,” Evan tried to joke, but it came out kind of flat. “It’s fine, really. It’ll be fine. I… Look I couldn’t stay with Alex and Mattie much longer anyway. They’re, you know, trying to live together as a couple, not roommates who bang. I was getting in the way.”

“I’m sure you weren’t,” Connor said with a frown. “And that doesn’t mean you need to jump into a six month lease.” He heavily set down a box marked “WINTER CLOTHES” in Evan’s mother’s all caps writing. “You could have stayed with me for a while. I -”

“No,” Evan said firmly. He wished Connor would drop this. It was starting to get on his nerves… Honestly, the last few weeks Connor had been getting on his nerves a lot. He kept hovering as Evan officially accepted the job, worrying out loud that maybe it was too soon for Evan to go back to work, and as he started looking for a place to live, as he tried to get back on his feet, Connor kept coming back with more and more concerns. He knew that part of it was feeling like Connor didn’t think he could handle this but… there was this nagging thing at the back of his mind that Connor thought he was stupid and weak and fragile. He hadn’t told him about Nate. He kept trying to get Evan to stay with him… Evan knew it was probably just that Connor cared and was being protective, but it still grated. “I couldn’t have. You’ve done enough. More than enough. This place is… fine. I’ll be fine. I need to, like, get out of the therapy bubble anyway. Start like actually being a person again.”

Connor still looked troubled. “They’re never home. They said that themselves.”

“So?” Evan said. “I didn’t move in to try to be their new best friend.”

“I don’t… I hate the idea of you always being alone,” Connor mumbled, his cheeks pink. 

“I mean,” Evan said, looking away as his own cheeks heated up. “I’ll have work and-and therapy… and you.”

“Yeah,” Connor said distantly. “I just… Are you sure you don’t just want to crash with me for a while -”

Evan sighed, walking away and heading back to the living room to grab another box. This one was labeled “TOWELS, SHEETS, ETC.” It was a surprisingly heavy box. Connor had followed Evan back to the living room, snatching up a small box of “MISC. ELECTRONICS” and followed Evan back to his room. “Are you, like, mad at me?” Connor asked. 

“No,” Evan muttered, setting down the box and looking around for the box cutter to open it. “Where’s the…?” 

Connor pulled the box cutter out of his back pocket and handed it to Evan. He watched him carefully as Evan cut the tape on his box and then held his hand out for Evan to give it back.

“Seriously?” Evan asked, his eyebrows up. 

“I… it’s sharp,” Connor mumbled.

“You gonna go and take all of the knives out of the kitchen too?” Evan snapped, and Connor took a step back looking scared. 

Evan realized he was still holding the box cutter. 

Fuck. 

He slid the blade closed and handed it back to Connor. “I’m sorry,” he said heavily. “I know you’re just trying to help but… sometimes it just. Bothers me.”

“Oh,” Connor said, pocketing the box cutter. 

“Like. I am aware that I totally freaked out and blew up my life and stuff,” Evan said. “But I… I’m not a baby. I  _ can _ actually handle stuff. I know I was shitty about asking for help before, but, like I don’t need you to…” He didn’t know how to say it. 

“Me to what?” Connor asked, looking anxious. 

“You’re sort of overprotective,” Evan said finally. “And like. I get it and I am trying not to be resentful because you have a right to worry about me, I’ve given you more than enough reasons, but… It can be kind of frustrating.” He ran a hand through his hair. “Sorry, I… I don’t want to sound ungrateful or-or like an asshole and-and part of me still doesn’t think I’m ever even allowed to, like, be mad at you but… Yeah.”

“I don’t… I’m overprotective?” Connor said, sounding unsure. 

“Yeah,” Evan said, “That’s like. A thing with us. You make a bunch of choices to try to protect me and I… get pissed off and resentful about it. It’s, like. Our thing.”

Connor’s eyebrows raised. “I uh… I’m sorry.”

Evan chewed his lip. “It’s… It’s stupid I shouldn’t have said anything, ignore me okay? It’s stupid.”

“It’s not,” Connor said helplessly, following Evan out of the bedroom where Evan grabbed a box and hauled it into his bedroom. “It’s not stupid, I just… I’m not sure it’s true.”

“What?” Evan said, putting the box on the floor with a thud. 

“I don’t think I’m overprotective,” Connor said. “Like, maybe a little. Sometimes. But not always. You’ve been through a lot of shit recently and I want you to be okay. I’m just… normal protective.”

Evan felt anger twitching to life inside of him. He felt the flames being fanned, as if Connor’s words were just adding fuel to the fire. He could not lose his shit right now. He could not afford to go off on Connor, no matter how angry this was making him. Connor was too important and Evan was getting a fucking handle on this, damn it. 

But he was full of shit if he thought he was just… typically protective. He was not an average level of protective. He… hovered and lied and treated Evan like he was fragile and feeble and unable to cope with anything. 

And it fucking sucked. 

They unpacked in silence for a while. 

“Are you okay?” Connor asked Evan finally. “You seem… just. Are you okay?”

Evan felt his hands ball into fists. “Actually uh. No? I’m kind of pissed at you because you’re not listening and… honestly I’m kind of pissed at you for not telling me you had a boyfriend for months.”

“What?” Connor looked surprised. “Is that…  _ What _ ?”

“Nate,” Evan said. “You… you dated Nate for, like, five months and-and most of that time you and I were talking but you… you never told me about him. You never mentioned him to me… I found out from Jax. You let me stay with you and then visited me twice a week while you were with this guy and just. You didn’t tell me.”

Connor’s lips parted like he was going to respond, but no words came out. 

“That… That really sucked Connor,” Evan said. “And I know, I don’t have the right to, like, complain that you don’t trust me because I know what I did and how much I hurt you and I know I haven’t earned your trust back. But… But I felt like such an idiot when Jax told me because I had  _ no _ idea. I had no clue that guy even existed, much less that he was your boyfriend… And it really sucked. To realize you had decided not to tell me. That my best friend was keeping something from me.”

“I didn’t want to hurt you,” Connor said quietly. 

“I know,” Evan said softly. “You never do but… if we’re going to be friends I need you to stop lying and not telling me things because you want to protect me.”

There. 

He’d said it. 

The crux of it, the truth. 

“I know I’m a mess, and I know you want to look out for me but… I  _ want _ to be your friend. For real. I want to be, like, a person in your life and that means you can’t edit stuff out for my sake. Because it… it sucks to find you were lying.”

“I’m sorry,” Connor said. “I… I didn’t really know how, like, the exes thing was going to work so I -”

“I’m not just talking about Nate,” Evan said quietly, staring into the open box of stuff in front of him. “You… When everything happened last year, I knew it wasn’t right. I knew something was off and… And I only found out because I overheard you telling someone else.” He picked at the edge of the tape on the box. “I had to overhear you telling Andi and… That. Really hurt.”

“I… I know,” Connor said. 

“I’m not saying that to, like, not take ownership of breaking us up and-and whatever,” Evan went on. “But like. That really fucking hurt. And it hurts more to know that… you’re still doing it. Still hiding stuff from me because you don’t think I can handle it… you don’t ever give me a chance to find out if I can handle it on my own.” He pushed a hand through his hair. It was getting kind of long. “We can’t have a relationship where you spend all of your time protecting me. It’s not… fair. Shouldn’t I get to be the one who decides what I can’t handle?”

“Yeah,” Connor said, his eyes big. 

“Sorry I didn’t mean to, like, freak out -”

“You didn’t,” Connor said, his voice steady and even. “You’re right. I don’t tell you stuff because I want to protect you and that’s… kinda messed up. I’ll work on it, okay?”


	142. ONE HUNDRED AND FORTY-ONE

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> “Reality is a fucking nightmare.”

Connor thinks a lot about what Evan said that week. 

A lot. 

Because it’s… it’s true. It’s true that Connor didn’t tell Evan things because he wanted to protect him. 

And it backfired. Hard. 

Really, really hard. 

But even knowing that, even knowing how much lying fucked everything up, Connor still has this instinct to protect Evan. To keep him safe, to keep him away from things he knows are going to hurt. 

_ “We can’t have a relationship where you spend all of your time protecting me. It’s not fair. Shouldn’t I get to be the one who decides what I can’t handle?” _

Evan’s right. 

He’s right. 

And Connor…

Fuck, he’s still keeping things from Evan. Things he should be telling him, because he’s afraid they’ll hurt too much. 

They’ve talked a little bit about alternate universes, about all the weird shit that happened to them. They know it’s not just them - they know about Charlie and the person he looped with whose name Connor can’t remember. And they both know about Otis. And Jenny in the other universe.

But Connor hasn’t told Evan about the kid.

About the kid Zoe’s still treating. 

He’s asked after this kid a few times. Only a few, because he doesn’t want Zoe to get suspicious, to think he’s got some kind of personal investment, but… 

Fuck. 

It’s horrible. It’s so fucking horrible. 

Connor doesn’t want Evan to know that an eight year old died and died and died, just like they did. It’s just… horrific. Too fucked up to even comprehend. 

But it’s a piece of the puzzle. 

A part of understanding what happened to them. 

And Connor shouldn’t keep it from Evan. Even though he hates it, he hates it so much, he feels sick just thinking about it and he knows it’s going to upset him. He knows it’s going to freak him out. 

Connor wants to try. 

Wants Evan to know he’s taking what he said on board, he’s taking it fucking seriously, he’s trying. 

He wants to try. 

Evan comes around for dinner that Saturday night. Connor makes sweet potato curry, even though it’s the middle of summer, because it’s good and hearty and both of them need to keep their strength up. Gain some more weight. He makes coconut rice to go with the curry and it turns out really good. 

When they finish eating, Evan insists on helping with the dishes, and they fall into this routine that’s so fucking familiar, so domestic that it hurts. 

It’s genuinely painful. Painful enough that Connor almost loses his nerve. 

Almost. 

“I’ve been thinking about what you said,” Connor begins, his voice cautious as he washes the slow cooker bowl. “And you’re right. That I need to let you figure out what you can’t handle.”

Evan looks at him, his expression sharp. “What is it? What happened?”

“It’s not about us,” Connor tries to explain, frowning a little. “Not… not really. But it’s…” He sighs. “Look, it’s not something I’m exactly thrilled about knowing. But I know and it’s something I should tell you. Just… are you sure?”

“Of course I’m sure,” Evan says, almost snaps. “You can’t just… you can’t just say you have something that you think I might not be able to handle and not tell me, fucking hell.”

“I’m sorry,” Connor says immediately. He puts down the slow cooker bowl and the scrubbing brush. Looks at Evan. “I don’t know how to say this.”

“Just say it,” Evan says instantly. 

“Zoe’s treating a kid who looped. Who died over and over again. Like we did.”

Connor watches as all the color drains out of Evan’s face, leaving him ashen and pale, his eyes wide and terrified. “What the fuck?”

Connor bites his lip. “Okay, so when… when you helped me write my will,” he tries to explain, his voice quiet. “I just… I was terrified that something weird would happen to me. Something unexplainable. And that I’d die, or be incapacitated somehow. So I wrote a letter to Zoe, letting her know that… that what I put in my will was what I wanted. So that if she had to… to make a decision, it’d be easier for her.”

Evan goes even paler. Connor didn’t think it was possible. “You did?”

“I did,” Connor confirms, his voice small. “I can’t even remember what I wrote exactly, but she asked me about it a few months back. Before we… before my birthday. Apparently I said that I was a magnet for weird shit. She asked me what that meant and I…”

“You told her about the loops,” Evan says, his voice dull.

“I didn’t,” Connor says firmly. “I didn’t. Not really. I told her I’d had weird dreams about dying over and over again, around the time we wrote the will.” He bites his lip. “Which wasn’t a lie. I’ve had… so many nightmares, so many fucking nightmares.”

“I’m sorry,” Evan says quietly. “I…”

“Then she told me that one of the kids she treats said that he’d died over and over again,” Connor explains. “That on his first visit, he knew exactly what she was going to say. Because she’d said it before. That she’s still treating him. She’s done some research, found Reddit threads and… and the scientist I met in the other universe.”

“Holy shit,” Evan says, his eyes still wide, his face still too fucking pale. 

“Her theory is that he saw a video on YouTube about the loops and it scared him,” Connor says, shrugging a little. “I kinda… didn’t react super well. She asked me point blank if I knew anything about death loops and I… I lied. I told her I’d seen the stuff online too and it had freaked me out. But I didn’t tell her we looped. I didn’t even mention you at all. I swear.”

“How old is the kid?” Evan asks, his voice barely above a whisper.

“Eight.”

* * *

Evan regretted telling Connor he needed to tell him the truth about stuff. Just for a second… Because he thought, just for a second, that he might pass out. 

Evan shakily headed toward the kitchen table, sinking into a chair. 

Eight. 

The kid was eight. Eight years old. 

Evan could hardly manage what happened to them and he had been twenty fucking six, he had been an adult… He couldn’t handle what happened as an adult and a kid, a fucking eight year old kid…

When Evan was eight he went through a phase of peeing the bed after his dad left. 

When Evan was eight, he tended to wake up in the middle of the night and crawl into bed with his mother because he had nightmares about her disappearing, fading before his eyes, and he would sneak into her room to make sure she was there and not going anywhere. When he was eight his stutter got so bad he had to return to speech therapy. 

Eight. 

Eight years old. 

Fuck. 

“Oh my god,” Evan muttered, rubbing a hand over his face. “Are… are you okay?”

“What?” Connor said, looking surprised. 

“Zoe asking you that… Zoe asking about the loops. And-and you had to lie to her so… So are you okay?”

Connor swallowed audibly. “I don’t know.” He sunk into the chair on the other corner of the table. He chewed on his lip, looking pale and shaken and… scared. Scared. 

“Thank you,” Evan said after a long few minutes. “For… for not telling Zoe? I know that was… was hard for you. To lie to her. But I know that… that you lied for me.” He let out a breath. “So. Thank you. I know you hate lying to her. But it… it means a lot. That you didn’t tell her about the loops.”

“It’s not just mine,” Connor said, his voice almost a whisper. “It’s not just mine.”

Evan nodded. He had… a very, very real desire to have a drink. But he fought through it. Took a deep breath. “Fuck, how many of us are there do you think?”

Connor sighed heavily. “I don’t know.”

“Us and… and Charlie. Esther. And… whatever is going on with Otis. That doctor with the dick snake... And now this kid.” Evan felt like maybe he might cry. “I hate this. I hate that… I mean. What do we do?” Evan asked softly. “Do we… do we tell Zoe?”

Connor shook his head. “I don’t… I mean. Do you  _ want _ to tell her?”

Evan laughed humorlessly. “Uh. No thanks. She already thinks I’m crazy. No need to take you down with me.” He frowned, thinking this over. What the fuck. Could they even do anything? “God that poor kid. I mean… if we told Zoe, I don’t even know how that would help. It might just… get us locked up or something.”

Connor nodded. 

“At least… I mean if he’s in therapy, that means that… that it’s over for him, right?” Evan said. “Because Zoe remembers him. If he were still looping…”

“Yeah,” Connor said hollowly. 

“Fuck… Eight years old.” Evan felt like he could just… cry. Just… fuck. Eight years old. That was so fucking sad. “Fuck, remember being eight like… How do you even try to process dying at eight years old? Let alone waking back up and dying again.”

“I know.”

Evan shook his head. “I was… fuck at eight years old I was so needy? I like. Hung off of my mom all of the time.” He cleared his throat awkwardly. “My dad had just left so… I was terrified she was going to just. Vanish one day.” He shook his head. “Fucking hell no wonder I have abandonment issues.”

“Yeah no shit,” Connor said. “I… read. A lot. At eight.”

Evan smiled. 

“My mom and I would… we’d go to the library a lot. I asked, like. So many questions. Like… Why are dogs furry and how come the sky is blue and why do letters make words and why do we know what those sound like? And my mom. Fuck she was like. A saint. She never got annoyed. I’d ask why and if she didn’t know she’d always say, ‘let’s go find out.’” He frowned a little. “I think my best friend was the librarian until I was, like, ten.”

Evan gave him a sad smile. “I would have been your friend,” Evan said. “But I was just so busy going to, like, speech therapy and crying.”

Connor wrinkled his nose. “Speech therapy?”

Evan shrugged. “I uh. I stutter? Not as much these days, but, you know. When I was little I… I was so embarrassed I’m not sure I talked to anyone but the teacher in first grade. I was, like, the kid who pulled on adults’ pant legs or sleeves and would whisper to them...” Evan frowned more. “If that had happened to me at eight years old, I… I don’t even think I would have told anyone.”

Connor looked crushed. “Not even your mom?”

“She had a lot of other stuff going on.” Evan looked down at his feet. “She, like. Had to get a second job after my dad left so.” He shook his head. “Fuck… What do you think we should do? About this kid?”

Connor shook his head. “I have… no idea.”

* * *

Evan looks so fucking sad, so fucking shaken, and Connor kind of wants to punch himself in the face for having even mentioned it. He lets out this awkward, stupid laugh. “Still want me to tell you shit I know you’re not gonna want to hear?”

“Yes,” says Evan immediately. He just looks… more sad. He rubs his face. “Just… fuck.” 

“Yeah,” Connor replies hollowly. “It’s just… I know there’s nothing we can do. Not without telling Zoe about this, not without… without proof? Without genuine proof that it’s all real?” He sighs. “I mean, after what happened to me last summer, maybe there’s a chance she won’t dismiss us as totally crazy?”

Evan flinches a little. “There’s a difference between an inexplicable coma and dying twenty times.”

“Yeah.” Connor runs his hand through his hair distractedly. “I guess trying to get Charlie to back us up on this is out of the question.”

Evan looks genuinely sick at the thought and Connor wishes he hadn’t said anything.

Fuck Charlie. 

Fuck that guy. 

Connor’s pretty sure that if he ever sees him again, he’ll punch his lights out. 

Possibly even stab him. 

Fuck, that’s dark. 

There’s the sound of the key in the lock of the front door and Connor’s stomach plummets. Fuck. Talking to Zoe right now sounds like a fucking terrible idea. 

When the door opens, Connor’s relieved to see it’s not his sister at all. 

It’s Otis. 

He looks good. He’s had a haircut and he’s shaved and he looks like a normal twenty-four year old kid who hasn’t had to spend the better part of the last four years on the streets. 

Connor looks at Evan, who’s gone even paler. 

“Hey,” Otis says quietly. On closer inspection, he’s pale and a little sweaty and looks exhausted, drained. “I, uh…” He gives this small half-smile. “I wanted to check in on you? I felt…” He shrugs. Rubs his face awkwardly. “Something in the air. Hovering. Uncertain. I… I didn’t know which way it would go. But I wanted to make sure you were both okay.”

“You got a haircut,” Evan says, offering Otis a half-smile of his own. “It looks good.”

“Thanks,” says Otis. He sits down at the table with them. Bites his lip. 

“Can I get you a drink?” Connor offers. Otis shakes his head. Looks at Evan. 

Evan frowns. Looks at Otis with this calculating expression. Opens his mouth, then closes it. Opens it again and finally speaks. 

“You’ve met others like us. Other people who got… stuck.”

“I have,” Otis says, like Evan’s asking if he watched the news last night or something equally mundane.

“Did you ever meet a kid?”

Otis’s face crumbles. Just… completely dissolves. He looks at the table, seemingly unable to look either of them in the face. “I wish I could change so much,” he says, in this small, wounded voice. “So damn much. But if I had to pick one thing to change, only one, it would be Harry. I tried… I tried so hard to help Harry, I swear I did everything I could.”

“Tell us about Harry?” Connor asks gently. 

“It was his birthday,” Otis says, blinking rapidly, like he’s trying not to lose it. “It was his birthday, over and over and over again. His eighth birthday.”

“Holy fuck,” Evan whispers, and Connor reaches out his hand and grabs Evan’s hand and holds it tightly, so fucking tightly. 

“How did you meet him?” Connor asks. 

“He got lost,” Otis says simply. “He got lost and I… I tried to take him home, I tried and I tried and I tried. To keep him safe. To get him home and keep him safe, but he just… he got hit by a bus. Shot in the head. Hit by a taxi, then a bicycle. Fell down a manhole. One time he got attacked by a swarm of pigeons, genuinely full on Hitchcock. Another time he just… started bleeding from his eyes and collapsed.” Otis’s voice is trembling by now. “I’ve never seen so much blood.”

Connor manages to get to his feet quickly enough to get to the kitchen sink before throwing up violently. 

He’s shaking, he’s fucking shaking, this is the most horrible fucking thing he’s ever heard in his life. 

“Do you know how it stopped for him?” Evan asks, and his voice is raw and rough and Connor can tell he’s been crying. 

“I thought it was me,” Otis says, his voice barely above a whisper. “I thought it was… my fault, I thought I was making it happen by trying to help. So finally one time I just… didn’t interfere. In case it was me. In case I was the one making this all happen.” There’s a long pause. “Someone came up to him. He left with them. And I never saw him again. I don’t… I don’t know what happened, I can’t be sure but it felt wrong, it felt wrong wrong wrong and then the record stopped skipping, it all reset and the world went back to where it should be, but it still felt… wrong.”

* * *

Fucking fuck. 

An eight year old kid… 

This kid was almost the same age as Evan’s little sister, fucking hell, what the fuck.

Evan swallowed hard. He had a feeling he fucking knew why Otis stopped seeing Harry after he went off with another person but…

God he didn’t even want to think about it. About what happened then.

_ It stopped,  _ Evan reminded himself.  _ At least it stopped.  _

Fuck. 

Evan got to his feet shakily and grabbed a bottle of water for Connor from the refrigerator. He knew Evan hated plastic water bottles, but he’d kept them around while he was still recovering because Connor had broken a few glasses due to his shaky hands. Might come in handy now, Evan thought as he wordlessly handed the bottle to Connor, who still looked a little green. “Go sit,” He told him softly, and Connor trudged back to his seat at the table wordlessly. 

Evan rinsed out the sink. 

Harry was eight years old. 

Fucking eight. 

Fucking hell. 

Amy’s age. He was young, little,  _ eight  _ years old.

And Otis… Otis had watched him die. He’d watched a child die so many times, die in awful, horrible ways… 

Evan felt his own stomach turning and for a moment he feared he might be sick too. But he took a breath through his mouth and kept his composure. Clearly, this was horrifying, but… But Connor and Otis seemed to be really affected by it and Evan was not going to fall apart. Not now. He needed to keep it together. 

It was horrible to think about. A kid. A fucking kid, dying like that, dying and dying… A little kid named Harry. Who died and died. On his eighth birthday. 

Fuck. 

On Evan’s eighth birthday his mom had made cupcakes for him to bring in to school. 

Fuck that was so fucking cruel. 

The universe… or universes. The multiverse, whatever the fuck… was a real bastard. 

But there was another question weighing on Evan’s mind. Because he kept thinking about October, thinking about Otis trying to tell him to stay away from Charlie, Otis trying to warn him and there was this horrible sinking feeling in his gut that somehow by being in close proximity to someone else who looped, Evan had caused this. That somehow an eight year old’s blood was on his hands. “When?” he asked Otis. “When did this happen?”

Otis looked stricken. “I’m not… It’s hard to keep track, but. The leaves were turning. It was…” His eyes widened. “No. Not that. It was before the collision.” 

Connor looked between Otis and Evan, his eyes big and scared and uncertain. 

“Are you sure?” Evan asked, feeling tears stinging behind his eyelids. “Are you positive it wasn’t… I know I fucked up a lot but if I. If being around him… If I somehow hurt a little kid, I -”

“No,” Otis said firmly. “He just… got stuck. The record won’t stop skipping... until it does. Until they shut off the carousel.”

Connor looked at Evan again. “What’s… What are you talking about?”

Evan swallowed. “I… the thing with Charlie was in October and. If Zoe just started to treat the kid - to treat  _ Harry  _ \- recently…” He looked back at Otis. “You tried to warn me to stay away from Charlie.”

Otis nodded. “His pain bleeds out. Rage and hurt. I…” He looked almost embarrassed. “You had been kind to me. You were in so much pain already. I wanted you to… avoid it.” Otis dropped his gaze to the table. “I tried to help, I did everything I could -”

Connor still looked sick, but he seemed to find his voice. “Otis,” He said, his voice very gentle. “It wasn’t your fault either. Harry… he just got stuck. Like you said.”

Otis wiped his eyes, not looking at either of them. Evan considered his words carefully before he spoke next. “I’m sorry I didn’t listen to you,” He said finally. “You were… you were absolutely right. I should have listened. About Charlie.”

Otis shrugged, this limp almost lifeless movement. “You couldn’t listen then. I knew but I tried anyway.”

Evan reached out and gave Otis’s hand a squeeze. “I’m listening now.”

Otis gave him a sudden and crooked smile. “I know.” He tilted his head a little, frowning at Evan. “She tried her best to keep her promise.”

“What?” Evan said, not following. 

“There wasn’t ever another truck.”

Connor looked confused but Evan’s eyes flooded because his memory… it immediately supplied the details. Evan, seven years old and tucked up in bed, sitting up scared and asking his mom if another truck would appear in the driveway to take her away. She took his hand and squeezed it tight and then promised she wasn’t going anywhere… and Evan had held onto that. It wasn’t always easy and she wasn’t always around but… she never left. Not really. But he’d held on to that squeeze. He’d given it to Connor a few times, to the important people. 

“There wasn’t,” Evan said, smiling a little through his tears. He squeezed Otis’s hand again. “And there won’t be. Otis… I think Harry must know that you tried to save him. I think he knows how hard you tried.”

Otis nodded. 

“And… we’re here,” Evan said. “Me and Connor. So… if you ever want to talk about. About what happens to you? Or about Harry? We’re here.” He looked at Connor sort of sheepishly. “Both of us. We want to help. So, we’re not going anywhere, okay? We’re staying right here.” 

Connor gave Evan a watery smile, one that Evan couldn’t quite interpret or understand but knew was… important. Precious. It felt like… like a promise. And maybe Evan was making one. Making a promise not to leave again. Not to die again. It felt… oddly hopeful. 

Otis nodded and squeezed Evan’s hand back. Wiped his eyes.

He let go of Evan’s hand. 

And Evan wiped his eyes too, stood up and went into Connor’s liquor cabinet and grabbing a bottle of whisky from the highest shelf. He paused, snatching two glasses, and bringing it all back to the table with him. Connor watched him with apprehensive eyes. “I’m not drinking,” He explained, putting the two glasses on the table. “But you two  _ definitely _ are. You deserve a drink after this conversation. Possibly two. Fucking hell.” Evan laughed a little stunted. “Reality is a fucking nightmare.”

Otis smiled. “Amen to that.”


	143. ONE HUNDRED AND FORTY-TWO

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> “What the hell do you want from me?"

Evan met with Oliver his therapist at their usual time. He felt like his brain had been swimming in muck for a few days. He had been chewing at his fingernails obsessively. Ever since he and Connor had the conversation (brief though it was) about Nate and Connor lying and then the subsequent conversation about Harry, who was eight, looping… 

Evan was on edge. 

Because it felt as if the dam had started to leak and it was… making him tense. On edge. And since Evan wasn’t drinking, wasn’t smoking or burning himself, wasn’t sleeping with inappropriate people anymore… the only thing he could do when he felt like this was bite his fucking nails. 

“So you want to stop biting your nails?” Oliver asked him. 

“Yes,” Evan said. “It’s… gross. It’s gross and nails are full of bacteria and-and I keep picking at my cuticles and making myself bleed so. I want to stop.”

“And then what will you do when you feel like this?”

Evan didn’t know. “Just… deal with it?”

“And how has that worked out for you in the past?” Oliver asked him. 

“I really don’t need this right now,” Evan said, shaking his head. “I know, okay? I have… shitty coping mechanisms.”

“I’m not judging,” Oliver said, his hands up. “All I’m saying is that trying to quit one more thing cold turkey sounds like a lot of pressure to put on yourself. And I worry if you try to take that away, you’ll put yourself at risk for falling back into old habits.” 

Evan glowered at Oliver. 

“Have you and Connor talked about Parker yet?” Oliver asked. 

“No,” Evan said, frowning more. “It hasn’t come up.”

“Would it just come up naturally?” Oliver asked, sounding curious. 

“Well, no, but -”

“So why not bring it up?”

“Because… what if I make it worse?”

“Or… what if you make it better?”

Evan frowned and left the appointment feeling frustrated and anxious and fucking pissed off. Oliver was really pissing Evan off, nagging him to talk to Connor about Parker. And he was determined, despite what Oliver said, to stop fucking biting his nails. He went to the pharmacy not far from the bookstore and headed to the aisles with the nail polish. He found a polish specifically designed to reduce nail-biting and bought it. 

And then he realized he had no fucking clue how to deal with nail polish… 

But Connor might. 

So Evan headed over toward the bookstore. He said hello to Maureen and Jax and headed up to Connor’s apartment where he knocked on the door. Connor pulled it open, smiling, with Edgar perched on his shoulder. “Hi!”

“Hey,” Evan said, smiling. “Can you help me with something?”

Connor looked surprised. “Oh?”

Evan held up the bottle of nail polish. “I don’t know how to do this.”

Connor smiled. “I can help with that.”

“Thank you,” Evan said. Connor led him to the kitchen table. Edgar jumped off of Connor’s shoulder and trotted across the table to greet Evan, giving him kitty kisses and purring loudly when Evan scratched him behind the ears. Edgar rubbed his face against Evan’s hand, and then he hopped up onto Evan’s shoulder. He rubbed his face against Evan’s neck and cheek and purred. 

Connor returned to the table with a paper towel, a bottle of nail polish remover, a nail file, a small wooden stick, and nail clippers. And a tube of cuticle cream that made Evan’s heart do a backflip. “Cool,” Connor said. “Wanna give me your hands?”

Evan was a bit embarrassed by the state of his fingers, but he spread his hands out on the table for Connor to see. 

“Sorry, I know they’re… Sorry. I’ve been biting them a lot?”

“It’s okay,” Connor said. He took Evan’s right hand in his gently. He rubbed a small amount of cuticle cream into each of Evan’s fingers, and Evan had to fight down the urge to yank his hands back. He’d forgotten just how… small and humiliating letting Connor do this was. He hadn’t thought it through… Fuck. Fuck. He hated this. 

“That should help,” Connor said. He then picked the small stick up. 

“What’s that for?” 

“I’m going to push your cuticles back,” Connor said. “So that you’re less likely to bite them.”

“Okay,” Evan said trying to fight through the frustration that was still building inside of him. 

Connor finished pushing back Evan’s cuticles. Then he wiped Evan’s nails carefully with the nail polish remover, and carefully painted the anti-bite polish on each of Evan’s fingernails. 

“You have really small nails,” Connor said. 

“Because I bite them,” Evan said. “Probably.”

Connor smiled. “Well that should help with that,” Connor said. “Just don’t touch anything for a few minutes while they dry yeah?”

“Okay,” Evan said, keeping his fingers spread out on the table. Edgar kept purring contentedly on Evan’s shoulder. “Thank you. For your help.”

Connor gave Evan a big smile. “What are friends for, huh?” He said. 

And Evan felt his stomach drop again. 

Connor headed to the fridge, returning with a beer for himself and a glass of water for Evan. “I have the most intense craving for pizza? Wanna order one?”

Evan tried to smile, still feeling this strange buzzy crackly feeling in the back of his head. 

_ “What are friends for, huh?” _

“Yeah, that would be good,” Evan said. “Half pepperoni and -”

“-Half green peppers?” Connor finished, smiling. He grabbed his phone and placed the order, putting his phone to his chest for a second and saying, “Garlic knots?”

“Please.”

They hung out and watched  _ The Office  _ for a while, and when the pizza arrived, they watched more episodes and ate, mostly quiet. 

“Everything okay?” Connor asked Evan, looking at him quizzically. 

“I’m…” Evan started to say he was fine, he started to lie to Connor but he couldn’t exactly lie after he just went at Connor for lying to Evan all of the time to protect him. He couldn’t lie. That would be unfair. 

And Evan always wanted to be fair. 

“I don’t know how I am,” Evan said finally. “Honestly.”

“What’s going on?” Connor asked, looking concerned. 

“I…” Evan looked down at his slice of pizza. “I want to talk to you about something but… I also really, really don’t want to talk about it.”

“Okay…?” Connor said. 

Evan couldn’t look at him. He just stared at his pizza. Went to put his finger in his mouth to bite his nails and pulled a face because it was disgusting and bitter and gross tasting. “Fuck,” He muttered. “I. Uh… Can we talk about… about the thing with Parker?”

Evan chanced a look up at Connor and his face was pale and frowning. 

“We just… never really talked about it and. I…” Evan pulled on the hem of his shirt. “And maybe we. Ought to… to talk about… that.”

Connor took an audible breath. “Yeah. Uh. You’re… probably right.”

“Just…” Evan felt his lips pulling down into a frown. “I know. I know the circumstances were… insane. And-and you were… you were somewhere where I was dead but…” Evan sniffled, realizing he was crying. He was so angry and naturally he was crying. “You slept with someone else. While we were still together and that… fucking hurt.”

Connor looked devastated at Evan’s words. “I am… so sorry.”

Evan frowned a little more. “I know. You… you said.” He swallowed. “I know. You apologized and… I know you’re sorry.” He looked down at his newly painted nails. “I know.”

“I really am,” Connor said gently. 

“It’s just…” Evan said, his eyes stinging. “I don’t understand  _ why _ .”

Connor looked confused. 

“I… Why him?” Evan said, frustrated. “Why it happened at all? I know that… that you were in a horrible situation and-and I know that. That you don’t see it the way I do. I know you were stuck and I know that must have been so fucking terrifying but… I just don’t understand how you…”  _ Could do that to me. How you could pick the one person I still worried I didn’t measure up to. How you could cheat and then turn around and act like I was some callous monster.  _

Connor’s face was contorted in pain. “I am so fucking sorry.”

"I know… that you’re sorry but. It. Really hurt?” He frowned, feeling somehow worse  about this because Connor wasn’t giving him an answer, wasn’t explaining or even really understanding why Evan was so upset, he was just… apologizing. But Evan… hurt. He hurt and he wanted to know why. He wanted to know why Connor had cared so little about him in that moment. Why Connor had… decided what he was done was okay, forgivable, excusable, especially considering that Evan was here, in this time, waiting for him. Scared for him. Loving him so hard it hurt and… and Connor was fucking someone else. When he knew Evan here. When he knew Evan was waiting for him. “It just… It really hurt.”

* * *

“I know,” Connor says, feeling this awful ache in his chest, this awful gnawing feeling like something is trying to consume his insides. “And this isn’t an excuse or me trying to not take responsibility for what happened. I just… I was kind of losing it? After the first experiment, I nearly died and Andi and Jenny freaked out. Stopped helping me try to get back, tried to convince me it would be okay if I stayed. I… I had this huge fight with Jenny and I… I punched her in the face. It was so fucked up, she’s like half my size. Then Andi threw this fucking party to cheer me up and I… I must have had three bottles of rum? They weren’t all full but I drank way too much. Andi gave me a joint laced with coke and I don’t have as high a tolerance for drugs as I used to. I was off my face. I don’t remember anything about sleeping with Parker.”

“So getting drunk gives you a free pass?” Evan spits out, in this horrible bitter voice. 

“No, of course not,” Connor says, his insides burning with shame. “I’m just trying to give you some context-”

“You didn’t want context when I told you about Garrett,” Evan says icily. 

“I didn’t sleep with Parker to hurt you,” Connor finds himself saying. 

“But it did,” Evan snaps. “It hurt me, and we were together when you did it. You knew I was back in this universe. Waiting for you. Scared out of my mind for you. And you were fucking someone else.”

“I’m so fucking sorry.”

“Sorry doesn’t make it hurt less.”

“I know.”

“And everyone hates me for leaving you. Everyone. I’m the villain, I’m the bad guy, and you just get to be the victim, to hide behind a fucking coma, and no one knows that you hurt me, too. That you cheated on me.”

“Okay that’s bullshit,” Connor replies, starting to feel tendrils of anger wrap around his chest. “You told Sabrina that I cheated. And she doesn’t know about any of the weird shit I went through. She just thinks I cheated on you when you were right there.”

“I  _ was _ right there! I didn’t go anywhere! You were the one who left, who ran off to another universe and fucked Parker!”

“You’re acting like I chose to end up in a fucking coma,” Connor snaps. “Like I didn’t do everything I could to get back to you. Like I wasn’t trapped somewhere impossible, in a universe where you’d killed yourself. I made a mistake but I didn’t  _ choose _ to leave. I fought my way back.”

“You killed yourself to get back. I didn’t want that, I’d never want that.”

“Then what  _ do _ you want, Evan?”

_ Because we both know it sure as hell isn't me anymore. _

* * *

Sabrina had told Graham. Evan knew she had told Graham, he had stopped talking to her because she had told fucking Graham about the Parker shit. He hadn’t known that Graham had turned around and told Connor. Fuck. Fucking shit. Evan felt like he could just. Scream. Punch something. Lose his ever loving shit. 

But… 

Connor was in front of him. He was yelling back at Evan because Evan was yelling at Connor, he was angry and pissed and yelling. 

“You killed yourself to get back. I didn’t want that, I’d never want that.”

“Then what  _ do _ you want, Evan?”

Evan felt like Connor had punched him. “I… I don’t know!” Evan shouted, breathing hard, not sure what to do, what to say. He didn’t know what to say. He wasn’t even sure what he wanted, he just wanted to not feel like this. 

“Would you rather I died here?” Connor demanded. 

“No!” Evan shouted, his eyes tearing again. “Of course not! I… I’d never want that, I’d never… No. That’s not what I’m saying.”

“Then what are you saying?” Connor demanded, his eyes glassy and so fucking angry. “What the hell do you want from me? I’m trying, I apologized, I -”

“It’s just,” Evan sputtered, angrier still, his heart beating far too hard in his chest. “Just-just, I… It’s not fucking fair,” he said. 

“I know that it’s not.”

“It’s not fucking fair,” Evan shouted. “You… you acted like-like Garrett was unforgivable, like I was a-a monster for that and… And I. I know I fucked up, I know, but you. Hurt me too.”

“Yeah but I didn’t do it to hurt you!” Connor said. “You fucked  _ Garrett _ to hurt me.”

“You weren’t thinking about me at all!” Evan yelled, his voice breaking, his heart pounding too hard. “You just… You knew I was here, you knew I was here and I was waiting and I was scared and you…yeah maybe I wanted to hurt you with Garrett but you weren’t thinking about me at all with Parker and that. Fucking  _ hurt _ .” He stopped. 

“I was thinking about you. I was, I -”

Evan stopped. 

His heart was pounding way too hard. He felt like he was going to… lose his mind or kill something or cry until he threw up. 

This was too much. 

Evan felt this too much and it… It was bad. This was not productive anger this was unadulterated rage. It wasn’t something he could be rational about, something he was in control of right now. It was bad and he couldn’t do this. Not to Connor, not again, not like this not right now.

“I… I’m sorry,” Evan said, backing away. “Fuck. I… I can’t have this conversation right now. Fuck. Sorry, I’m-I’m so sorry, I-I have to go.”

Connor looked hurt, just destroyed. “You brought it up and now you’re just bailing on me?”

“No! I…” Evan sucked in a breath. “I’m. I’m… really fucking angry and I shouldn’t have brought this up, I shouldn’t have… I’m angry. I’m  _ too  _ angry to talk about this. This isn’t me leaving or walking out this is me... trying not to let my anger win here. Can we pick this up later?”

“Oh,” Connor said. “I…”

Evan swallowed hard, trying to get his heart rate under control. “I’m sorry Connor. I… I’m just. Really fucking angry and… It’s not appropriate. It’s not. An appropriate level of anger and I don’t want my anger to take over and… Make this worse. So can I… Can I just leave and… and when I’ve calmed down we can talk more? Please?”

Connor nodded, his eyes still glassy and angry. 

“I’m sorry,” Evan said, his hands still clenched into fists. “I’m just… Connor I’m really sorry. I promise I will… come back in an hour, okay? Is that… is that okay?”

“Yeah,” Connor said, his voice sort of hollow. 

“I’m sorry. Really.” Evan got to his feet and headed out of the door before he could change his mind.


	144. ONE HUNDRED AND FORTY-THREE

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> "You’ve had a hard time. You are allowed to need a little love sometimes.”

Evan rushed out of the bookstore, not stopping to talk to Jax or Maureen, hurrying down the street and not stopping until he had made it to the good bodega. 

His hands flew to his mouth and then he groaned, angrier now because his fingers tasted disgusting and fucking hell fucking hell fuck fuck fuck. 

Evan headed inside the bodega. He walked to the counter, looked at the cashier and asked for a pack of American Spirits and a lighter. He handed over his ID and some cash, took the smokes and headed outside. 

He had not smoked a cigarette since the end of February. 

Evan coughed a lot on his first inhale, but he didn’t stop. He kept smoking. He smoked one cigarette. Finished, tossed the butt on the ground and smoked another. He didn’t hurt himself even though he wanted he wanted to, his skin was screaming for it. His chest ached a bit as he smoked, too tight, his heart squeezing. 

His hands were still shaking. 

He was still so fucking angry. 

At Connor… At himself. He was so angry about every single thing. 

Fuck fuck fuck fuck fuck. 

Fuck. 

It hurt because he loved Connor, he loved Connor so fucking much and Connor…. Connor had hurt him. And Evan had hurt him back but nobody, nobody but fucking Sabrina and Evan’s therapist, knew about Parker. Everyone else just thought Evan was an asshole. 

Connor had fucking killed himself for Evan but… but before that he’d cheated. He’d cheated. He’d slept with someone else, someone who made Evan unbelievably insecure, someone who  _ wasn’t Evan.  _ He’d slept with someone else…

And Evan knew. He knew he wasn’t being fair. He knew Connor thought he was stuck in the other reality forever, he knew that Connor thought he was trapped somewhere where Evan was dead… But Evan  _ wasn’t _ dead. He wasn’t dead. He was there and he was fucking sad and scared and  _ alone _ . Because Connor had left. 

And then he fucked someone else. 

And it hurt it hurt it hurt. 

He hated himself for being so fucking hurt, for daring to feel this way when Evan had hurt Connor in as many ways as he had, for hurting him as many ways as Evan knew how but… 

It felt unfair. It hurt. 

It hurt. 

Evan lit a third cigarette. Inhaled deeply. Wiped his eyes. 

“Evan?”

He turned, surprised to see Andi stepping out of the bodega, pregnant belly on display because naturally, Andi was wearing a crop top. “Andi!” Evan said, surprised. He was especially surprised when Andi pulled him into one of her intense, bone-crushing hugs. Evan was so shocked he dropped his cigarette to the ground. “You’re… you’re pregnant!”

Andi pulled away and beamed, this serene and massive smile. “Yes, I’m growing some babies for a friend.”

“You’ve got more than one in there?” Evan asked, feeling almost alarmed. He knew she was pregnant but holy shit.

“Yeah, twins. Apparently I have a very welcoming womb, or at least that’s what my doula said. I figured… Motherhood maybe isn’t for me, but my uterus was just sitting there vacant. And this way I feel aligned with the universe, more tapped into her energy.” She shrugged, then pulled Evan into another, even tighter hug and she kissed his cheek and pulled away. “How are you doing, babe? I heard you were really sick for a while.”

Evan nodded, feeling small and stupid and embarrassed. “Yeah. I… I spent a couple of months in a treatment facility. I… I wasn’t doing so well.”

“And how are you now?” Andi asked, and she sounded genuine. Like she actually gave a shit. 

“I’m… I’ve been doing better,” Evan said quietly. “Honestly it’s been. Kind of hard.” 

Andi hugged Evan again, tight and solid and Evan felt his heart squeeze painfully as his eyes flooded. He realized, totally embarrassed, that he had started to cry, right there on Andi’s shoulder. But Andi, eccentric and strange though she was, just held on to Evan tightly, petting his hair and saying everything would be okay. It just… someone being nice to him was so fucking unexpected it just unraveled everything.

Fucking hell he was… a huge mess. 

He was crying on Connor’s friend when he was upset because he’d had a fight with Connor, he was… a mess. A fucking mess. 

Andi pulled a silk handkerchief out of her boobs and handed it to Evan. Evan used it to mop up his face, not meeting Andi’s eyes. The hanky smelled like patchouli and sweat. “Thank you,” he said, his voice small. 

“Oh babe, if you think I haven’t broken down sobbing on people since I started growing these fetuses,” Andi said. “I get it. You’ve had a hard time. You are allowed to need a little love sometimes.” 

“Thank you,” Evan said, giving her a smile. He shook his head. “What are you doing? I mean… at this bodega?”

Andi laughed. “Oh,” She said, patting her naked belly. “The little ones want some ice cream.” She grinned. “Want one?” She said, pulling out a box of ice cream bars from inside of a hemp bag. 

Evan started to shake his head. 

“Babe. You are way too skinny. And it’s a thousand degrees! Live a little.”

Evan smiled. He had already taken a lactaid before the pizza. 

He and Andi headed to a bench near a bus stop outside the bodega, and they each unwrapped an ice cream bar and ate them side by side. Andi told Evan a little about the couple she was carrying the babies for, and how they were thinking of naming one of the kids Zebulon. 

Evan did his best not to choke on his ice cream at that. 

“Oh hey, they’re kicking!” Andi said, smiling brightly. She grabbed Evan’s hand and pressed it to her bare pregnant belly, and Evan looked up at her, surprised and strangely delighted to feel a small insistent poke coming from her belly. 

“Wow,” Evan said, smiling. “That’s… Does that feel weird?”

“Oh totally,” Andi said. “When it first started I thought I just had… awful gas. And it was in the middle of sex with my friend Dolly too. I was horrified that I might fart on her face.” 

Evan cracked up laughing. 

“But it was just these little dudes swimming around.” She gave Evan another big, 

serene smile. “They play fight, I think, my little uterus buds. Wrestle. Always kicking each other. They sort of remind me of Connor and Zoe a few years ago. They love each other but they can’t stop fighting.”

“That’s… really cool.” Evan smiled at her.

“I know, bodies are amazing.” She kept his hand pressed to her belly as the twins 

inside her kept kicking, a strange rhythm that was equal parts soothing and scary.

“Andi… I. Thank you? For talking to me.”

“Why wouldn’t I?” Andi asked, as if that was a strange and unusual thing for him to say. 

“Oh,” Evan said, shrugging. “Because, you know. I was an asshole. And I… left 

Connor. Pretty much everyone he knows hates me?” 

Andi slung an arm around Evan’s shoulder. “Babe. You and I both know that the situation is a lot more nuanced than that.”

Evan gave her a smile. “...Yeah. It is.”

Andi pressed a kiss to Evan’s cheek. “I need to get home. These little peanuts demand I get a proper nine hours each night.” She ruffled his hair in this weirdly maternal move. She paused. “Do you have my number?”

Evan shook his head. Andi was always more Connor’s friend. 

She went into her hemp bag and grabbed a sharpie. She stole Evan’s left hand and wrote out her telephone number, ten perfectly legible digits. “Here. Call me if you ever need a friendly ear.”

Evan smiled at her, this strange sense of relief swelling inside him. “Thank you. Really. Thank you.”

“Be safe, okay babe? And take care of yourself.”

Evan nodded. “You too. And your peanuts.”

Andi laughed brightly. “Oh they’re not mine. They’re just renters right now.” 

Evan watched her and her crop top and pregnant belly walking away. 

He checked his watch to see the time. 

It had been nearly an hour. 

Evan’s heart had finally slowed. He felt a lot less like he might explode. He took a deep breath. 

He needed to go back. Evan had said he would be back in an hour so he was going back.

So he returned to the bookstore, realizing now it was nine o’clock, and the store was closed. Evan sucked in a breath and buzzed Connor’s apartment. 

“Hello?” Connor’s crackly voice said. 

“Hi,” Evan said. “It’s… it’s Evan.”

“Just a second.”

Maybe a minute later, Connor ushered Evan inside. He looked like he had been crying. Evan wanted to pull Connor into the tightest, tightest hug and do whatever he could to make this better. 

But he knew it didn’t work like that. “Hi,” Evan said, smiling sheepishly. 

“You came back,” Connor said, and his lip quivered ever so slightly. “I… I didn’t think you would come back.”

Evan felt like he might cry. “I said… I said I would.”

“I know, but…”

“I said I’d come back,” Evan said. “Is… is it okay? That I’m here?”

Connor nodded. “Yeah. Yeah… come inside.”

They stepped inside. Connor rearmed the alarm. They went upstairs to the apartment and Edgar greeted Evan by rubbing up on his ankles and then climbing up Evan’s body to perch on his shoulder. Evan could feel Connor watching, and he wondered if Connor thought Edgar was some kind of traitor for being so affectionate with Evan. 

Evan just appreciated knowing Andi wasn’t the only one in Connor’s life who didn’t hate him. 

“Is it okay if… if we talk some more?” Evan asked Connor. “It’s okay if you don’t want to, but -”

“It’s okay,” Connor said. 

They went and sat on the sofa. 

Evan took a deep breath. “I’m sorry,” Evan said softly. “I shouldn’t have… come at you like that. And I’m sorry.”

Connor nodded. “Thank you.” 

“And I… I really am sorry. About Garrett,” Evan said. “That… wasn’t fair, to you. And I am. Really fucking sorry. I shouldn’t have compared it… I fucked up. I’m sorry.” He smiled humorlessly. “If it helps, I’m pretty sure he gave me chlamydia.” 

Connor didn’t even smile. “It doesn’t.”

“I’m so sorry,” Evan said again, feeling exceptionally stupid for mentioning it. 

“I know,” Connor said. “And… Parker. I’m so sorry.” 

“I know.”

“No. Listen… It’s not an excuse but. I. I really thought I had fucked up my only shot to  get back,” he said. “I really thought that… That I’d never see you again. That you would stay dead to me forever and... And I was just. I was so fucking  _ sad _ , Evan, thinking I would have to live in a world without you in it and. I fucked up. I was drunk and high and so fucking lonely and I just. I missed you. So I… I made a mistake. A huge fucking mistake and I know how much it hurt you. And I’m really sorry.” 

Evan swallowed hard. He nodded. “I know. I think… I mean. Part of it was… that you didn’t tell me? About any of it. And then the-the Parker thing was part of that and…”

Connor sort of laughed halfheartedly. “I’d never been in a relationship before. And, like, clearly I… suck at them. I never know what the rules are. I mean, look at how much of an asshole I was to Nate I. I’m just. Selfish. And an asshole.” He gave Evan a lopsided and sad smile. “But you knew that when we… when we started dating, you know I was an asshole from the beginning.” 

Evan felt his eyes flood again because that… was so far from the truth. So fucking far. “You’re really not though,” Evan said tearfully. “You’re not an asshole but. God, it would be so much easier if you were.”

Connor sniffed too. 

Edgar hopped off of Evan’s shoulder, settling between them on the sofa. 

“I…” Evan sucked in a deep breath. Let it out. “I know I’m the asshole here.”

“You’re… You were sick, you -”

“I knew what I was doing,” Evan said firmly. “It’s not like having BPD makes it impossible for me to tell the difference between right from wrong. And you’re right. I had already hurt you when I left. Sleeping with Garrett was just… cruel.” Evan looked down at his hands, wanting desperately to bite his nails but knowing he’d regret it. “What I did… And I’m not just talking about Garrett, I mean all of it… Richard and Charlie and… and leaving. What I did was worse. Worse than you sleeping with Parker because you were stuck and I’m really sorry.” He shook his head. “I know how stupid it sounds, because I know how hard you fought to come back but… I think I was. I am still, really? I’m angry that you left me.”

Connor opened his mouth to reply, but Evan cut him off. 

“But that’s… I know you didn’t want to. I know you didn’t choose that. And it’s… it’s my work to-to figure out what to do with that feeling. Because taking it out on you is unfair.” Evan did his best to try to breathe slowly. 

“Fear of abandonment or… or perceived abandonment. That’s a BPD thing right?” Connor said quietly. 

Evan nodded. “Yeah. It’s not an excuse though.”

“No, it’s not,” He said, his voice still quiet. “But I can see how me getting stuck kind of… falls somewhere in there.”

Evan blinked a few more times, wiping his eyes. “Yeah it’s kinda… right in the in-between, huh?” 

Connor laughed softly. 

Evan shook his head. “You know what the fucking dumbest part about that is?”

“The abandonment thing?”

“Yeah,” Evan said hollowly. “It’s probably just… fucking. Daddy-issues exploding out.” He blinked some more. “How fucking stupid and cliche.” 

“Have you talked to your dad lately?” Connor asked softly. 

Evan laughed, this bitter sound ripping free of this throat. “Sometimes, but not a lot since I got home. I guess he’s probably pissed at me that I wasn’t over the moon to see him since he and Tracy showed up with the kids when I was in treatment. Fucking… asshole,” he said without a lot of venom in the words. “Like showing up with his replacement family helps.” Evan sighed. “He’s been super weirdly cagey every time I mention you? I dunno what his problem is, honestly. I’ve mostly just been emailing with Amy.”

Connor nodded. 

“But that’s not… that’s not the important thing,” Evan said with a sigh. “I’m making this about me.”

“Isn’t it though?” Connor asked. “At least a little?”

* * *

Evan shrugs. Rubs his face. “I guess.” He looks so fucking sad. “I just…”

When he doesn’t finish, Connor takes the opportunity to speak. 

“I really am so fucking sorry,” he says softly. “For all of it. For Parker, for everything that happened in that other universe… for ending up in another fucking universe in the first place.”

“You didn’t choose it,” Evan says immediately, his voice raw. “You… I know you didn’t choose that. It just…” His eyes well up with tears. “You  _ left.  _ You said you wouldn’t let the universe take you and you… you weren’t there. You were just… a shell. I hated it, I hated it so much, being able to see you and knowing that you weren’t there. Not really. That you’d gone somewhere I couldn’t follow.”

“I hated being away from you,” Connor replies, feeling his own eyes sting. “I hated it, I wish… I wish I could change it. I wish I could change… so many things.”

“We can’t change the past,” Evan says, in this annoyed tone like he’s heard it said a million times. “It just…”

“It is what it is,” Connor says, his voice barely above a whisper. 

Evan nods. “It is what it is.”

“For what it’s worth,” Connor says, not able to look Evan in the eye, “sleeping with Parker was… the biggest mistake of my life. The biggest. It wasn’t… nothing good came out of it. I didn’t…” He sighs. Still doesn’t look at Evan. “I don’t remember any of it, not really, but the next morning, I overheard Parker talking to Jenny. He… he told her that I… I kept saying your name, I was drunk and stupid and… pretending, I guess.” Connor rubs his face. “Which is such an asshole move, holy fuck, I’m such a fucking asshole, I… I hurt everyone. Parker. You. Myself. I’m so fucking sorry.”

_ And you stopped loving me.  _

_ You found out about Parker and you stopped loving me.  _

_ I ruined everything.  _

_ It cost me everything.  _

“I know,” Evan says, his voice gentle. 

Connor finally looks at Evan. There’s this look on his face Connor can’t figure out, something sad and haunted and just… heartbreaking. 

“Thank you for coming back,” Connor says after a moment. “I… I’m sorry I didn’t think you would.” He tries to smile. “It’s… it’s good that you can recognize that you needed to go? I… it’s a big fucking deal. That you’re figuring out the whole BPD thing. I… I’m gonna work on trying to get that, okay? To, like, not take that shit personally.”

Evan just looks so sad. “It’s not up to you to have to, like, manage my shit.”

“I know,” Connor says. “I just… you’re fucking trying, yeah? So I’m gonna try, too.”

“Okay.”


	145. ONE HUNDRED AND FORTY-FOUR

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> “Corporate lawyers don’t have souls. Totally heartless."

One of Evan’s new coworkers Talia poked her head into Evan’s office at four o’clock on Friday, smiling at him. “Hey new guy!” She said. “TGIF, right? A bunch of us are going to grab a drink after we finish at five. Wanna come?”

Evan was honestly surprised to be invited. He had been doing his best to be friendly with his new colleagues, but honestly he hadn’t gone out of his way to get to know anybody. In part because he was still pretty overwhelmed by the whole social interaction thing… and also in part because he had fucked up really badly the last time he actually had friends at work and part of him was scared if he befriended anyone, he’d just end up ruining things. 

And then of course there was the question of drinking. 

Right now Evan just… wasn’t. He hadn’t even really talked about it much with Oliver, only just touched on it as a list of ways he had let his BPD run around like a dog off its leash before he started treatment. He had made a lot of awful decisions while he was really fucking drunk, and so Evan just hadn’t wanted to risk it since then. 

But he supposed he could go to a bar and just… not drink. That might be doable. 

“Oh!” he said, trying not to act as surprised as he felt to be asked. “Sure, alright. S-sounds good.”

“Sweet,” Talia said, winking at him. “Meet us in the lobby at quitting time, we’ll walk over together.”

When five o’clock rolled around, Evan finished up the last email he needed to send and closed down his computer before heading to the lobby where about ten folks were all gathered, chatting and smiling. Talia trotted up to him with a grin. “New guy, you’re here! Perfect, is that everyone?”

An attractive black guy with dreadlocks beside her gave a thumbs up. The group all set off and the attractive man stayed near Evan, looking at him. “I dunno if we’ve met. I’m Felix.” Felix had an English accent and extremely white teeth when he smiled. “I work in youth programs.”

“Nice to meet you,” Evan said, smiling back. “Evan. I just started in legal.”

Felix smirked. “Oh, we  _ all  _ know who you are,” He said. “The Kendra McCool case was, like, big news around here. We’re all still sort of shocked you didn’t want to stay on the corporate side of things. Heard you were making a big name for yourself with Richard McLaren as your mentor.”

Evan felt sick. Just fucking sick. “Oh, uh -”

“Why’d you leave?” Another person asked. Evan turned his head. It was Laura, the office assistant who had an impressive sleeve of tattoos that heavily featured a tree. “I heard you were, like, a partner and that McLaren was pissed when you didn’t finish out your contract.”

Evan smiled nervously, feeling sicker still. “It’s not that interesting honestly? I had some… health stuff. I had to take a few months to deal with that and I realized the firm was a bad fit for me after all.” 

Felix nodded, but Laura’s eyebrows raised, like she thought that wasn’t the whole story. And it wasn’t. But Evan wasn’t about to volunteer his mental health crisis to his new coworkers. 

They all trooped into a nearby bar that was advertising half off margarita pitchers and, when Felix asked Evan if he was interested, Evan’s mouth moved without checking in with his brain. “Sure,” he said, smiling. 

One margarita wouldn’t kill him, Evan reasoned. He’d just have the one and then go home. He needed to get to know these people and he needed not to look like a mental patient in front of them so. One drink wouldn’t kill him. Evan would drink it slowly and then go home. 

“So Evan,” Talia said after their drinks had arrived and they were all pouring margaritas into glasses with salt on the rims. “We have all been wondering… How was going up against Larry Murphy in court?”

Evan choked on his drink. “Oh. It was… He’s a good lawyer,” He finished lamely. 

“Come on,” Felix said, “There’s got to be more to it than that!”

“Natasha has a dart board with that guy’s face on it,” Laura volunteered. Other people murmured in agreement. 

“Why?” Evan asked. 

“He beat her once, back when she did the whole corporate law song and dance,” Talia said wisely. “Some case about a dry cleaning supply company.” 

“Ramirez v. Sunnyville Supply,” Felix added helpfully. “He kicked her ass. I’ve heard he’s a shark. Totally remorseless. And you beat him!”

“I did,” Evan said awkwardly. “It um. I mean. I just… Kendra McCool is a really lovely person and I just -”

“She was one of your references!” Astrid, who was from HR, said, smiling brightly. “She wrote like… a ten page letter about how you were the only person who seemed to care as much about her case as she did. How you went to bat for her several times.”

Evan took a gulp of his drink. “I just. Kendra is… really nice, and I. I felt for her? I grew up with a single mom, I know how hard it can be… Yeah.”

“So fucking modest,” Felix said, rolling his eyes. “You destroyed Larry Murphy! Spill! I heard he basically went all exorcist in the courtroom. Like his head did a 360 spin.”

“It was… it was sort of complicated,” Evan said. “He just wasn’t… like as prepared? It could have gone either way.”

Talia snorted out a laugh. “Heard you dated his son for a bit. Did you do it to, like, get in Murphy’s head? Psychological warfare?”

Evan felt cold all the way through him. He shook his head fiercely. “No! No, oh my god, no. Connor and I… we grew up together? Like same schools and stuff. We had been friends for a while before we dated and. And we weren’t dating yet when I worked on the McCool case. Honestly, I didn’t even connect the dots that I was going up against his father until the pre-trial -”

He didn’t want to speak ill of Larry. He and Larry didn’t really get along, exactly, but Evan owed Larry a lot. Larry had paid for Evan to go to treatment. He had volunteered his time and his money for basically nothing, he had looked after Evan and his mom, he had gotten Richard to drop his lawsuit against Evan for breach of contract when he left McLaren, Hunt, & Simon, and Larry was trying so much harder with Connor now. It wasn’t fair to let people shit all over Larry for being good at his job even if Evan didn’t always agree with Larry’s choice of clients. 

“Oh, I uh, that’s not -” Evan protested when people kept saying Evan must have really enjoyed taking Larry down a peg or three. 

Talia jumped in, talking about a lawyer friend of hers who had totally slept with the opposing counsel to get a case tossed once, and Felix murmured something about how “corporate lawyers don’t have souls. Totally heartless,” and then smiled awkwardly at Evan and said, “No offense.”

Evan felt his hands shaking. 

Fuck this was not good. He could absolutely not lose his shit in front of his new coworkers, he could absolutely not lose it in front of these people.

Fuck. 

He had downed his drink already. 

“Ready for another?” Laura asked, already taking his glass and pouring a second drink. Evan just… nodded. 

He told himself he’d drink it slowly but the conversation stubbornly refused to move onto another topic and Evan felt cold all over, embarrassed, exposed, like these people had just invited him out for drinks to try and pump him for gossip and somebody else was talking about how awesome working for Richard McLaren must of been because “he single handedly reduced carbon emissions in this city, pretty much,” and Evan felt dizzy and overwhelmed and somehow his grand plan to stay for a single drink had turned into a second pitcher of margaritas and he had fucked up. 

He had really fucked up. 

He forced himself to only finish a third drink. When Laura announced she had to head out because she had a date that night, Evan said he would walk her out and bid everyone goodnight. 

“Have a good time?” She asked him as they headed for the door. 

“Uh yeah.” He was being careful with his words because Evan realized he was… definitely tipsy. Not sober. He’d had three drinks and he was buzzed for sure. “It was nice. Thanks for uh. Inviting me?”

“Talia’s kind of the welcome wagon around here,” Laura said with a shrug. They stepped out into the evening. It looked like it might rain. “See you Monday.”

“Yeah,” Evan said vaguely. “Have a good one.”

He headed in the opposite direction, his only goal separating himself from his new coworkers as fast as he could. Evan… fuck. He was supposed to be better than this now. He was supposed… 

Fuck. 

Evan looked at his phone to see the time. It was just after six thirty, and he had a text from Connor about some book he had been editing  _ (Just realized I’ve been inconsistent about the Oxford comma through this whole manuscript I’m editing and I KNOW you’re nitpicky about that so just know I am now going back through the whole damn thing to add it in just because I know it would annoy you if I didn’t).  _

Connor shouldn’t be texting Evan, he thought to himself. Connor should never text him again. Evan had… ruined things. It didn’t make sense that Connor was still texting him. Evan had left and slept with just… so many fucking people and then turned around and yelled at Connor about Parker and Nate last week. He had no fucking right to be upset. He had no right at all, he was an asshole he was so stupid and terrible… 

Evan thought about texting Connor what was going on… How he felt like an idiot, how he was paranoid now that he’d left that all his new coworkers were talking about him, how he’d been drinking and he missed Connor a lot...

But Connor had done so much for Evan in the last few months. He had done so much and been so kind and Evan was… a mess so. 

He put his phone back in his pocket and considered his options. 

He could go home. He probably should go home. He was exhausted and tipsy and his head hurt and there was this voice in the back of his head telling him he wasn’t good enough, he wasn’t really better, he was the same as he always way, he was just broken, just like this, always going to be like this. He felt… nothing. Just a flat, boring emptiness that had swept in out of nowhere, settling in place of the anxiety he had walked into the evening holding.

Evan knew he ought to go home. Get some rest, eat something substantial.

But then he’d be all alone and… that wasn’t good either. Being alone seemed dangerous right now. Being alone made Evan’s hands itch, twitch, thinking that if he was all by himself he’d actually have a chance to…

He didn’t know where that thought was coming from but it scared the shit out of Evan. 

He hadn’t been… he hadn’t been thinking that way in a bit. Not in a while. A few weeks. It wasn’t like those thoughts had just stopped. 

It had just been a long time since Evan had caught himself thinking about dying and actually thinking he might do it.

Evan’s feet carried him to another bar. One close to his new place. 

He steered himself inside, his head aching, feeling so… empty. Wiped out. Stupid. He sat at the bar and ordered a whisky. 

A second maybe thirty minutes later. 

A third maybe thirty minutes after that. In the interim he just stared at his phone, hoping that somehow, miraculously, like last time, Connor would just… know. Come to Evan’s rescue like he always did. But that was… stupid. That was the alcohol talking. 

Evan was such an idiot. He was so fucking stupid. 

Why had he thought he was actually going to be okay? Obviously he was just one stupid day away from teetering over the edge. Obviously he was still an asshole, a monster who ruined everything, he was still the one who wrecked things with Connor and with his mom…

And Connor had had a whole ass boyfriend without telling him. 

Connor didn’t fucking want Evan anymore and honestly who would he was such a fucking mess?

Evan paid his bar tab after two more drinks and stepped outside, feeling disoriented and stupid and… not sure what he was meant to be doing now. 

_ Go home _ , he told himself, but then his mind flickered to the bottle of Xanax prescribed by Dr. Kate for emergencies that they finally decided a few weeks ago he was capable of having in the house without risk of overdosing and what if he went home and just took all of them and crawled into bed, what if died again what if he stayed dead and everyone was so mad at him because he just couldn’t get it together…

Evan couldn’t get it together. 

He just couldn’t get it together. He’d spent two months in basically nonstop therapy and he still couldn’t get it together he was just like this it was like one thread got pulled and he unraveled completely he was just like this he was always going to be like this. 

Evan started to walk, vaguely heading toward his apartment but also not going there directly, afraid to go home and afraid to stay out, way drunker than he should feel after only a few drinks because apparently he had no tolerance anymore. 

He remembered suddenly that he had a pack of cigarettes shoved into his bag from the other night when he ran out on Connor…

He should throw them away. 

But he hadn’t. 

And he felt… wrong. Everything about him just felt wrong, unfamiliar but all too familiar, stupid and useless and so fucking empty. He felt too much and not enough at once, he felt… nothing.

When you multiply something by zero it results in zero. 

Evan felt nothing. 

That was bad. 

Very bad. 

No wonder Connor didn’t want him anymore who would want someone who couldn’t even feel. 

Evan took a shuddering breath. The air felt humid and shivery, like it could start to rain any second. 

He ducked under an awning of a nearby dry cleaner and lit a cigarette. He wasn’t sure why but it was a point of pride to him that he didn’t cough on his first inhale. 

Evan had barely managed a week since the last time he fucked up and smoked. 

Fuck, no wonder Connor didn’t want him, he was disgusting, he was gross, he was so fucking stupid… 

Evan swallowed hard, exhaling. 

He… 

He just didn’t really feel much of anything. It was all detached and strange. 

Evan grabbed his phone, sending a slightly frantic text to Connor before his brain was allowed to tell him what to do next,  _ “hey any chance you’re free right now no worries if you’re not i’m just kind of feeling a little bit off.” _

Evan watched his phone. 

The message just read “delivered.” 

He finished his cigarette. 

Delivered. 

Evan lit a second. 

He kept pressing a button on his phone to get it to light back up. 

He was supposed to call someone if he felt this bad. Oliver or his parents or Connor. But Oliver was out of town for the weekend, back on Tuesday, had left Evan with the number of the therapist on call (hilariously, it turned out to be Praveed, Connor’s therapist. Apparently Oliver and Praveed knew each other). 

But Evan didn’t want them he wanted Connor to answer. 

**_Read_ ** _ 8:19 pm.  _

Evan felt like crying. 

That was three minutes ago. 

Connor had read his text and not responded, Connor probably hated him, who wouldn’t hate him Evan fucking hated himself he was useless, falling apart, garbage, terrible, fucked up and cruel and mean and stupid -

Evan felt out of control. Everything was spiraling and it had started to rain and… 

He sucked in another inhale of smoke. Sniffled a little. 

Pressed the lit end of his cigarette into his wrist. 

It hurt. A lot. A sting, a burn, one that brought sudden tears to his eyes. Fuck, fuck, fuck what was he doing? He was trying  _ not _ to do that, hadn’t done that in months, what was wrong with him what the fuck was the matter with him he was so fucking stupid he was so stupid and it hurt it really hurt it really fucking hurt. 

Fuck Evan was… so fucking stupid. 

And Connor still hadn’t replied. 

How had he fucked up with that text? Had he said the wrong thing? Was Connor annoyed with Evan for being so needy or just over the fact that Evan wanted to be in his life in such an obvious way?

His arm really fucking hurt. 

Evan was so unbelievably stupid and he had been faking it, clearly, faking getting better and Connor had read his text twelve minutes ago and not responded  _ fuck  _ he was so -

“Evan?”


	146. ONE HUNDRED AND FORTY-FIVE

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> “What’s intimidating about me? I’m just… three mental illnesses stacked on top of each other in a trenchcoat."

Evan blinked a few times, startled, and realized Otis was walking up to him. It had started to rain just a little; Otis’s hair was damp. 

“Oh. Hi,” Evan said in this horrible strangled voice. “How are you?”

Otis opened his mouth, then closed it. His eyes looked really sad. He put a hand on Evan’s shoulder. “I’m sorry.” 

Evan shook his head. “I don’t… I’m fine,” He choked out, unconvincingly. 

Otis frowned at him. “You’re not.”

Evan sighed, this shivery wet sigh. “You’re right. I’m not fine.” He shook his head. “Am I always like this? Be honest.”

Otis frowned. “Sometimes you’re a little better. Sometimes you’re a little worse. It… depends.” He put a hand on Evan’s shoulder. “When you two are together, you’re both steadier. But if one of you falls… it’s like dominoes.” 

Evan wiped his face. “It’s usually me, isn’t it? I’m the one… who falls?”

Otis eyed Evan critically. “You’ve been drinking. You said you weren’t anymore.”

Evan swallowed hard. “Yeah. Well. I’m… an idiot.”

“Can I… No. No, that’s… You can’t be alone right now.”

Evan didn’t argue. Otis was right. Evan could not be alone right now. He’d do something stupid. He had shitty impulse control. 

“I’d offer to take you to my place,” Otis said thoughtfully. “But I don’t think Jax would be too happy to see you, honestly.”

“Yeah,” Evan agreed. “They… hate me.”

Otis smiled a little. “If it helps, usually they don’t. Most places they’re just… intimidated by you.”

“By me?” Evan laughed because honestly, that was hilarious. “What’s intimidating about me? I’m just… three mental illnesses stacked on top of each other in a trenchcoat, I’m… falling apart.” That suddenly stopped being funny. “Otis I’m falling apart.”

Otis looped an arm around Evan’s shoulder. “You’re not. Trust me. I’ve seen it when you are. You’re not there. Not now.”

“You’re too nice to me,” Evan said, slurring a bit. “Don’t be nice to me.”

Otis shook his head. “You always say that.”

Evan rolled his eyes. “So, what, we do this a lot? I’m drunk and you’re… All cryptic and… you?”

Otis tilted his head slightly to look at Evan. “You’re always kind to me. Always. Sometimes, when I’m lucky, I get to return the favor.” 

Evan felt like he might… cry or be sick or something. Like he couldn’t hold all of the feelings inside of him and they were going to come out one way or another. “I’m not kind.”

“You are to me,” Otis said. “Most people aren’t.”

That made Evan really fucking sad. Even though most people hated him now, he still had people who were kind. Connor. Otis. Alex and Mattie. His mom. 

Oh god.

Evan remembered that Otis didn’t even have his mom. That was… awful. “Connor told me once… he said once that sometimes you get to see your mom?”

Otis looked sad. Really fucking sad and really fucking young. “Yeah. It’s hard, that most of the time she’s gone? Growing up it was just the two of us most of the time.”

Evan swallowed hard. If he had lost his mom at seventeen, he would have died. He knew it. “I’m so sorry you lost her,” Evan said. “I… Is it okay? When you see her? Or does that make it harder?”

“I’m… I’m sick a lot when I see her,” Otis said, sounding sad and small. “But. It’s good to see her. She… takes care of me. Sometimes it’s nice to get to be taken care of.” 

“I’m glad you get to see her then,” Evan said quietly. “I don’t know… That’s so sad. That’s so fucking horrible, Otis, and I’m so sorry. It’s so unfair to you.”

Otis sighed and nodded. 

“Did… Did I break everything?” Evan asked. “Did I break… time? When I killed myself the first time?”

Otis looked surprised. “How should I know?”

Evan stared. “I… I guess deep down I really just keep expecting you to tell me you’re… a timelord or something.”

Otis shook his head. “No. Sorry. Just a guy who went off his meds. Here today -”

“-Gone tomorrow,” Evan finished for him. He hung his head slightly, everything around him sort of swaying. When had he gotten this drunk? He hadn’t even drunk that much… But then he’d also been smoking and his head was reeling and it wasn’t fair that Otis didn’t always get to see his mom and that he was unstuck in time like a Vonnegut character and Connor still hadn’t texted Evan back.

“The carousel never stops turning,” Otis said softly. 

Evan didn’t want to think about carousels, he was already dizzy. “That’s…” He laughed suddenly realizing why he always thought that sounded familiar. “That’s from fucking…  _ Grey’s Anatomy.” _

Otis laughed awkwardly. “I used to watch a lot of it when my mom was in the hospital?” 

“You’re not wise or-or-or otherworldly you just… like Shonda Rhimes.” Evan laughed awkwardly. “Fuck you, you quoted Ellis Grey at me.” 

Otis laughed. “Yeah. I did.” He shrugged. “It’s not untrue though.”

“Fair enough,” Evan said, nodding. He felt… really dizzy. Sort of sick to his stomach. “I don’t… I don’t feel super awesome? I might… I might be sick.”

Otis nodded, steering Evan toward a trashcan and keeping a reassuring hand pressed to his back when Evan vomited into it. It wasn’t like a marathon amount of puking, nothing like the times he had most recently made himself sick, not like when he had alcohol poisoning, but still unpleasant and violent. 

“Fuck I am so fucking sorry,” Evan mumbled as he stood up, wiping his mouth on the back of his hand. “That’s gross. I’m so sorry.”

Otis smiled at him. “You get that I used to be homeless, right?”

Evan felt his face heat up. “Fuck, sorry, I… I’m - I’m so fucking stupid and selfish complaining about everything I, fuck, I’m s-sorry -”

“No, no, that’s not - I just mean… It’s just puke.” Otis sort frowned. “And you threw up in the garbage, not on me? Like. You’re alright. Do you feel better?” 

Evan considered this for a moment, then nodded. “I didn’t even really drink that much I just… shouldn’t be drinking at all. I’m stupid. I messed up because I was… stupidly feeling sorry for myself and now I’ve. Fucked up. I’m not supposed to be drinking and… I feel like. I just. Don’t feel right.”

Otis nodded. “Let’s get you somewhere safe, yeah?” He paused for a moment. “Here. I have gum.”

“Thank you,” Evan said, feeling again on the precipice of crying. “You’re way too fucking nice to me.” Then he hiccupped, and felt embarrassed and drunk and stupid and sad. “Can I ask you something?”

“Sure.”

Evan sucked in a shuddering breath. “Why did you keep telling me to shave? When we bumped into each other before?”

Otis looked surprised. “Oh,” He said. “It’s stupid.”

Evan raised his eyebrows. “Dude.  _ Everything  _ is probably stupid.”

Otis grinned at him. “I was just being a shithead.” 

“Seriously?” Evan said, laughing.

“I think you look better without a beard,” Otis said with a shrug. “I’d been off and on meds a few times, and I was starting to get a little… Frustrated by all of the repetition. Plus. I dunno. You tend to be doing better when you’re clean shaven, you know? And. You look better.”

“Oh,” Evan said, feeling a little like a deflated balloon. 

“Told you it was stupid.”

Evan shook his head. “It’s… I’m sorry. I’ve ruined your night I realize. What were you doing? Before?”

Otis looked a bit sad. “It’s been warm out lately. And damp. When I can, I try to buy like, jugs of water to give to some of the folks I recognize? Bug spray too. Mosquitos are killer this time of year.”

Evan looked at Otis hard. “You are a really good person.”

Otis smiled back at Evan. “You know you are too, right?”

Evan shook his head. “No. I’m… I’m really fucking not. I...am drunk. And a self destructive asshole who just… ruins stuff.”

“I don’t think you’ve ruined anything,” Otis said gently. 

Evan sighed, still feeling sort of weepy and empty and wrong. Just wrong. “Can I ask you something else?”

“Okay,” Otis said. “What’s up?”

“Don’t tell Connor I asked though, okay?” 

Otis looked at Evan, a serious expression on his face. 

“I… you’ve met me other places right? Me and Connor?”

Otis nodded. 

“Do… Are Connor and I okay? Are there places where he and I are okay… and still together?” It hurt to ask, but Evan had to know. He knew he had fucked everything up here, in this reality, he knew he had wrecked his chances here, but still he was dying to know if there was somewhere where he got it right. 

Otis looked thoughtful. “What do you think?”

Evan shrugged. “I guess I. I hope so. I’d like to think that we… got a real shot at being happy. Even if it’s not here.”

Otis nodded. 

“Please don’t tell him I asked,” Evan said. “I know he’s, like, trying to move on and I don’t want to. Y’know. Make things worse for him.”

“Maybe you should tell him,” Otis said wisely. 

“Probably a bad idea,” Evan said. “He’s just gonna… find someone else. Someone… nice. Like. Nate or… whatever.” Evan sniffed, embarrassed. 

Otis groaned. “I didn’t like that guy.”

Evan definitely perked up a little upon hearing that. “Really?”

Otis shrugged. “He wasn’t supposed to be here,” He said plainly. “I only met him once the once and… I dunno. He talked to Connor like Connor was… breakable. He just. Rubbed me the wrong way, you know?”

Evan nodded, thinking back to Nate telling him that he had broken Connor. Connor… Connor wasn’t broken. “Connor’s… he’s the strongest person I know.”

Otis smiled. “He says that about you.”

He blinked a few times, recognizing the block they had just turned onto. He realized too late that Otis had taken him to the bookstore. “No, Otis, I… I can’t be here. I don’t want him to see me like this.”

Otis held firm. “You shouldn’t be alone and all he wants is to take care of you. I promise you’ll be okay.”

Evan shook his head. “I… It’s not fair to him to keep asking him to take care of me.”

Otis looked at him critically. “But he wants to.”

* * *

It’s been a tiring day and Connor’s spent a decent chunk of the late afternoon and early evening alternating between editing and napping. The last time he’d had his blood tested, his iron levels were getting close to dangerously low again, despite the fact that he’s watching his diet and taking supplements, so today he’d had his first iron infusion. 

It’s not the worst thing to ever happen to him but it’s not super fun, either, and he’s kind of dizzy and nauseated and his mouth tastes weird, but apparently those are known side effects, so he’s been told not to worry too much. 

Apparently it’s chest pain that’s a really bad sign, and he definitely doesn’t have that, so it’s all going to be fine. 

He’s exhausted, though, which means this manuscript he’s editing isn’t going particularly well, and he realizes he’s been inconsistent with the Oxford comma, which is one of Evan’s pet peeves, so naturally he has to text Evan to let him know that he’s going to fix it. 

After a while, he decides that no more is going to get done today and lies down again. He checks his phone every now and then to keep an eye on the time but he’s not really awake. 

Connor does, however, wake up properly when he hears a key in the lock at the front door of his apartment. He sits up, rubs his face and drags himself out of bed, noticing idly that he feels a lot better than he did when he first got home. 

Evan’s sitting at the kitchen table, his head on the table, and Otis is getting a glass of water, brow furrowed in concern. 

“Everything okay?” Connor asks, his voice coming out rough and scratchy. 

Evan’s head pops up. He looks at Connor, his face pale and his eyes bloodshot. “Were you asleep?”

“Just napping,” Connor says, frowning. He’s properly awake now. “What’s going on?”

“Evan’s drunk,” says Otis, his voice soft but matter-of-fact. “He shouldn’t be alone right now.”

Connor sits down next to Evan and puts a tentative hand on his shoulder. “I thought you weren’t drinking anymore,” he says gently. “What happened?”

Evan puts his head on his arms on the table. “I fucked up.”

“You didn’t fuck up,” Connor says immediately, keeping his voice soft. Otis puts a glass of water down on the table. “Drink some water, yeah? It’ll make you feel a bit better.”

Evan pops his head up again, takes the glass of water and has a sip. Then another. Then another. Once he’s finished, he looks at Connor and his cheeks flush. “Fuck. I’m so sorry, I shouldn’t be here.”

“You absolutely should,” Connor says firmly. He squeezes Evan’s shoulder. “I’m glad you’re here. I’m always glad to see you.”

“I texted,” says Evan, his voice small. “And you didn’t answer. Did I do something wrong?” 

“You didn’t do anything wrong,” Connor assures him. “I didn’t see a text.”

“It said you’d read it,” Evan says, sounding so sad. “I figured you just didn’t want to talk to me because I’m such a fuck up.”

“I honestly didn’t see it,” Connor says apologetically. “I was napping, I must have clicked into the text when I was checking the time.” 

“Are you okay?” Evan asks, his eyes widening. “It’s… it’s still early.”

“Long day,” Connor says, not really wanting to get into it. 

“Are you sure?” Evan asks, something desperate in his voice, and he reaches out and grabs Connor’s hand. 

Connor squeezes Evan’s hand and Evan winces. Connor looks down to their intertwined hands and feels his stomach turn at a small, circular burn on Evan’s wrist. 

It looks fresh. 

Evan follows Connor’s glance and his face goes pale. He looks down at the table, not meeting Connor’s eye. 

“Otis,” Connor says calmly. “Could you get the first aid kit from the bathroom?”

“Sure,” says Otis. He smiles kind of sadly at Connor, then heads to the bathroom.

Connor squeezes Evan’s hand again and inspects the burn. It’s red and angry and makes his heart hurt. 

“I fucked up,” Evan mumbles, still not looking at Connor. “I drank too much and I-I-I fucked up, I was stupid, it was stupid to even go to these stupid work drinks, it’s not like these people want me around, they just want to pump me for information about corporate law and ask lots of questions and what am I even supposed to say? What do you… how do you have a normal conversation?”

“I have no idea,” Connor confesses. “I don’t think I’ve ever had a normal conversation in my life.”

Evan laughs a little, but it dies out quietly. “I don’t know how to talk to people.”

“Neither do I,” Connor says with a nod. “Except when it’s about books.”

“Convenient, seeing as you own a bookstore.”

“Exactly.”

Otis comes back with the first aid kit and takes a seat across from Evan. He reaches out and takes Evan’s hand gently, then sets about cleaning the burn and putting on some kind of ointment. Otis works quickly and efficiently and Connor’s oddly transfixed watching him. 

Once he’s finished, Otis looks at Evan, then at Connor, and kind of shrugs. “I picked up a couple of things in the military,” he says, sounding almost embarrassed. 

“I did a first aid certificate thing when I first bought the business,” Connor says with a nod. “For insurance and whatever.”

“You should get that renewed,” Evan says, slurring a little. “Otherwise your premiums will go up and that would suck.” 

He still hasn’t looked at Connor. 

Connor nods. “Good idea. I’m going to write that down.” 

He picks up Evan’s empty glass, then heads to the fridge and puts a note on the whiteboard. Once that’s done, he gets Evan another glass of water and puts it in front of him.

Evan looks at the glass, frowns then puts his head back on his folded arms on the table. 

“I hate this,” Evan says, his voice muffled from his arms. “I hate… feeling like this, I’m supposed to be… to be better now.”

“You are better,” Connor says comfortingly. “You’re doing so much better, Evan, this is just… a road bump.”

“What if I’ve been faking it?” Evan asks, his head still on his arms. “What if I just… I just tricked everyone into thinking I was normal now, that everything was okay and I’m still…” He finally lifts up his head and he looks so fucking sad and guilty that Connor just wants to hug him. “I’m still stupid and drunk and sad and making dumbass decisions and hurting myself and I should be fucking better than this, I should be better.”

“Evan,” Connor says carefully, trying to keep his voice even. “I don’t think you’re faking it. You’ve worked hard, really fucking hard, and it sucks that you’re not feeling great right now, but it doesn’t mean all that work has gone away, you know? It’s just… progress isn’t linear.”

Evan rolls his eyes. “Progress isn’t linear,” he repeats in this high, mocking tone. “Fuck, you sound like my fucking therapist.”

“Dude,” Connor says, rolling his eyes right back at him. “I have a therapist, too.”

“Praveed,” says Evan, his shoulders slumping. “Who I am supposed to call if things are bad this weekend because Oliver decided that now was the perfect time to fuck off on vacation.” He frowns. “Or maybe my stupid troll brain just decided that my therapist being on fucking vacation was an excuse to throw a fucking… crazy party.” He screws up his nose. “There is a party of crazy in my brain right now. A fucking crazy party.”

“You’re not crazy.”

“I’m not  _ not _ crazy.”

* * *

At least Connor laughed at that. Evan appreciated that at least someone had a sense of humor about his general sad sack...ness? Sad sack-itude? Sad sackery? 

Whatever it was, at least Connor was fucking laughing. He liked Connor’s laugh. Connor’s laugh was… the best. It was so nice. A little higher than Evan had imagined in back in high school when he used to go around pretending to have a best friend named Connor Murphy who painted his fingernails and listened to a lot of My Chemical Romance. 

“I think I claimed all of the crazy in the room, sorry,” Otis said softly, smiling a little bit at Evan. 

Evan frowned at him. “That’s not fair. You’re not crazy… You’re just. Like. A reluctant protagonist or… Billy Pilgrim or whatever.”

Otis raised his eyebrows in confusion. “Who?”

Evan sighed, looking at Connor meaningfully. “The state of literary education in this country is a fucking joke,” He said, rolling his eyes. He looked back at Otis. “Billy Pilgrim is… he’s the lead character in  _ Slaughterhouse-Five.  _ He’s… unstuck in time. It’s… probably a metaphor for PTSD, I dunno, Vonnegut was going for deep which sometimes means his shit is straight up bananas. Billy gets abducted by aliens at one point too and like has a baby with fake Marilyn Monroe in a zoo. I dunno, after that, history splinters and the U.S. becomes a bunch of smaller countries and everybody thinks Billy is crazy because he was just a normal eye doctor until he started talking about fucking aliens.” Evan shook his head. “That’s you. Only… only you’re better written.”

“You just hate Vonnegut.”

“I think he’s pretentious,” Evan said, waving a dismissive hand. “Doesn’t mean he’s not like… literary-literarily? He’s important for books and whatever. Read Vonnegut and hate him with me.” 

Connor laughed softly. Evan wanted to record the sound and play it on a loop for the rest of his life. “Evan has hard opinions on Vonnegut,” He said to Otis.

“Also scrambled eggs,” Evan said, sighing, the momentary buoyancy fading quickly. Motherfucking rapidly cycling moods. “Guys. I am. I’m really sorry? It’s not fair that you’re just… dealing with me? I should. At the very least, like, having some fucking coping skills by now.”

Otis looked at Evan thoughtfully, but Connor frowned. “Fuck that, Evan. You think you don’t have coping skills?”

Obviously not, Evan thought, staring. “Uh. No? I am drunk right now?”

“You… you talked to Otis. You texted me. You came here. Sure you drank and you hurt yourself, and sure, you’re not feeling awesome right now, but you could have kept drinking.”

Evan frowned at Connor. “Don’t take this the wrong way, but it’s really disconcerting when you’re the logical one.”

Otis laughed quietly and Connor grinned at him. “Sorry, dude. Sometimes that just happens.” 

“So your therapist is out of town?” Connor said softly. 

Evan nodded. “Yeah. I. I feel stupid because, like. Part of me already like. Knew this would happen?” He put his head back down on his folded arms. “What is even the point of going to therapy for your abandonment thing if then your therapist, like, activates your abandonment thing?”

Connor made a sympathetic noise. 

Otis’s voice chimed in a moment later. “Sometimes things move in circles by accident. But sometimes they move in circles by design.”

Evan looked up at him. Then over at Connor, who looked like he was giving some serious weight to Otis’s words. 

“Don’t bother trying to unpack the cosmic significance of that,” he said, rolling his eyes. “It’s probably from, like, fucking…  _ Glee _ or something.”

Otis started laughing, like, genuinely laughing, and Connor looked between Evan and Otis as if they were speaking another language. “What?” Connor asked, sounding hopelessly confused. 

“Otis is always, like, saying deep and cryptic stuff,” Evan explained, trying to keep his voice from slurring or his words from wandering off course. “But like today I realized. He like. Quoted fucking.  _ Grey’s Anatomy  _ at me. Like. It’s hilarious.” Evan looked at Connor, suddenly feeling a very real sense of urgency. “He’s really not a timelord Connor. He’s just… Otis.” He smiled at Otis. “And he’s very nice? Tell him to stop being nice to me because I don’t deserve it.”

Across the table, Otis’s face had gone a bit red. Meanwhile Connor squeezed Evan’s hand again. “People are nice to you because you’re a genuinely good and kind person.”

Evan scoffed. “No. I am a crazy insane person who is very rude and selfish and stupid and… Uh. Severely socially inept.” He wrinkled his nose. “Also drunk. I am a drunk person because I am stupid.”

Connor nudged the glass of water toward Evan. “You should keep drinking water.”

Evan rolled his eyes but nonetheless did what he was told. He drank the water put in front of him, then frowned slightly at the empty glass. 

“What’s up?” Connor asked, looking at him. 

Evan chanced a glance over at him, the reality of the fact that he was here, in Connor’s kitchen, just… generally fucking things up again dawning. Back where he had been. Everything moved in circles and the carousel never stopped turning and the record didn’t stop skipping and here he was, ruining shit all over. “I’m sorry. I’m really sorry.”

“What for?”

“I… am wrecking your night.”

“I was literally just editing and napping,” Connor said easily.

* * *

“Why are you napping?” Evan asks, furrowing his brow. “Are you feeling okay?”

“I’m fine,” Connor assures him. “I’m just kinda tired. I had an iron infusion today, so.”

Evan’s eyes widen, almost comically. “You had an iron infusion?”

“Yeah,” Connor says with a nod. “So I need to avoid, like, heavy lifting or whatever. I think. I don’t know, mostly I sat there for an hour or so and read a book with a needle in me. It was… whatever.”

Evan looks so sad, and Connor’s afraid for a moment he’s going to cry, so he decides to take matters into his own hands. 

“So hey, what’s a time lord?”

Evan looks at Connor, his expression more shocked than sad now. “You’ve never seen Doctor Who?”

“Nope. Who’s Doctor Who?”

“He’s actually called The Doctor,” says Otis helpfully. He grins at Evan. “Matt Smith is my favorite.”

“David Tennant,” says Evan immediately. “Connor would definitely like David Tennant.”

“Oh, absolutely,” Otis agrees.

“We should watch Doctor Who,” says Evan, and he stands up too quickly, a little wobbly on his feet. Connor stands up, too, and grabs Evan’s arm, leading him carefully to the living room and positioning him on the sofa. 

After a little bit of searching on channels and various streaming services, Connor manages to find Doctor Who, and Evan directs him to an appropriate starting episode, talking animatedly about this show having over fifty years’ history and thirteen different actors playing the title role. Otis chimes in with occasional trivia, and Connor kind of likes how Evan and Otis are both clearly into this show. 

“Okay, so are these nuns or nurses or just cat people?” Connor asks about ten minutes in to… whatever this is. “I am so confused right now.”

“There aren’t always cat people,” Evan says, having another sip of water. 

“Pretty sure there’s a cat person in season 3,” Otis points out. 

“Oh yeah, that’s right. The one with the crabs and the traffic jam.”

Connor blinks. “You’re fucking with me, right?”

Evan shakes his head. “I never joke about crabs, Connor.”

“I’ve never had crabs,” says Otis with a smirk, and Evan actually starts giggling at that. Full on giggling, and it’s the best thing, it makes Connor happy to hear that Evan’s actually laughing, and he’s just so fucking glad he’s here. 

“Dude,” says Otis to Evan a few minutes later. “Put your glasses on. You’re squinting.”

Evan’s cheeks turn pink. “Where did I put my bag?”

“It’s in the kitchen,” Connor says, and he stands up to go get it. He brings it back and hands it to Evan, who thanks him quietly and pulls out a glasses case. He opens it, and puts on a pair of glasses with blue frames. 

Evan’s cheeks are bright red now, and he ducks his head, clearly embarrassed. 

“When did you get glasses?” Connor asks, feeling his own cheeks heat up because…

Holy shit. 

Evan looks  _ hot _ in glasses. 

Connor needs to get his shit together, fucking fuck. 

“December?” says Evan, not quite looking at Connor. “I, uh… I don’t need them all the time.”

“You should wear them more often,” Otis says, his voice almost deliberately casual. He shoots a look at Connor and smirks, then looks back at Evan. “They look good on you.”

Evan kind of shrugs and mutters something Connor can’t quite catch under his breath, then focuses back on the screen.


	147. ONE HUNDRED AND FORTY-SIX

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> “Keeping stuff all bottled up… doesn’t help anyone. We both know that.”

After the episode finishes, Connor turns to Evan. “Have you eaten tonight?”

Evan shakes his head and looks a little guilty. 

Otis’s eyes light up. “I can order pizza, what do you guys want?”

“I got it,” says Connor, but Otis just shakes his head. 

“Let me,” he insists. “You guys have looked after me so many times. It’s the least I can do.”

Maybe half an hour later, the three of them dig into cheese pizza and mozzarella sticks and garlic knots from the closest pizza place. Connor goes to the kitchen to get plates and napkins, then remembers he’s got a stash of Lactaid still sitting in the pantry from back when he and Evan used to date. 

When he gets back to the living room, he hands Evan some Lactaid and another glass of water. Evan gives him this soft smile that Connor wants to memorize, wants to pull out and look at when things are bad. 

Evan has the best smile in the world. The very best. 

By the time they’ve eaten and gotten through another two episodes of Doctor Who, Evan’s sobered up a decent amount and looks exhausted. He keeps resting his head on Connor’s shoulder accidentally, apologizing every time. 

“Want to crash here?” Connor asks him. 

Evan blinks, then nods. 

Connor looks over to see Otis is already asleep in the armchair, all curled up under one of the many blankets that live in Connor’s apartment now. He leans over and shakes him awake. 

“Hey,” he says gently. “Dude. Go crash in the guest room.”

Otis opens his eyes, blinks, then nods, picking up the blanket and waving at Evan and Connor before heading to the spare room, yawning the whole time. He looks young, and it strikes Connor for what must be the thousandth time that Otis really is still just a kid. 

Evan looks at Connor, his expression guarded, and Connor puts his arm around his shoulder. “You okay to sleep in my room?” he asks quietly. “I just… don’t want you to be alone.”

Evan frowns a little, then nods. “Okay. That’s… yeah, okay.”

They brush their teeth then both take their medication. Connor never threw away Evan’s toothbrush from February. Connor’s thankful he’d insisted that Evan keep some meds at Connor’s because it’s definitely helpful in times like these. 

When they both climb into bed and turn out the light, it’s so familiar that Connor’s seized with the sudden urge to start crying. Just bawl like a kid. 

He’s missed this. 

“How’s your wrist?” Connor asks Evan, trying to keep the tears at bay. 

“Stings a little,” Evan confesses. He lets out this short laugh. “It… at least I can feel it, you know? When I… when I did it all the time, I couldn’t really feel anything, so… it’s something.”

Connor takes Evan’s hand. Squeezes it gently. “Wanna talk about what happened tonight?” he asks. “Or shall we talk in the morning?”

Evan’s face is sad in the dim light. “Or we could just not talk about it at all.”

“That’s not how this works,” says Connor gently. “Keeping stuff all bottled up… doesn’t help anyone. We both know that.”

* * *

Evan didn’t know what to make of Connor asking him if he was okay sleeping in Connor’s room. In Connor’s bed. With Connor. 

Evan had caught a brief look at himself in the mirror in the bathroom, brushing his teeth, and he wondered if the vacant expression he was wearing was the one Connor had described in therapy with Oliver. Dull. Dead eyes, he’d said. Evan’s tell. He hated that he had one apparently. Evan wondered if that was how he looked now. And then he caught sight of Connor’s worried face, the set of his jaw,  _ his _ tell and. He had said yes to staying with Connor. because he just couldn’t imagine being alone and not doing something… idiotic. Stupid or self destructive. And he could see it reflected in Connor’s face so he agreed to sleep in Connor’s bed. In his bedroom. A former sanctuary. 

But Evan couldn’t be positive that sleeping beside Connor wasn’t its own variety of stupid and self destructive. Because Connor was… right there. Right fucking there, inches away, so close. Evan could touch him if he wanted. He could touch him even if he didn’t want it, bump his arm or his foot against Connor accidentally… Not that he didn’t want to touch Connor. That. That was the problem. He always wanted to be touching Connor and that was… inappropriate. 

“How’s your wrist?” Connor asked him a moment after they switched off the light. His voice sounded a bit wobbly, and Evan hated it. He hated that. Because he had put that wobble there, he had upset Connor, he’d ruined his night and needed to be taken care of yet again. 

Evan swallowed hard. “Stings a little,” He answered, his voice coming out a bit rougher than he meant it to. He laughed a little after saying that, realizing that… His wrist stung a little. Because he felt it. He really, genuinely felt it. And it stung and burned a little, almost itching with how much attention it seemed to be drawing. “It… at least I can feel it, you know? When I… when I did it all the time, I couldn’t really feel anything, so… it’s something.”

Connor reached out then and squeezed Evan’s hand and Evan felt it… everywhere. He felt it all over, warming him through, like Evan had somehow managed to mainline happiness. Or something. 

“Wanna talk about what happened tonight?” Connor asked Evan, his voice gentle and warm. “Or shall we talk in the morning?”

And just like that, the bubble popped. 

Connor only cared because Evan kept scaring him, he was only touching Evan because Evan was a fucking mess… Evan took a shaky breath, pulling a face. “Or we could just not talk about it at all,” Evan said, his voice defeated and bitter and sad. 

“That’s not how this works,” Connor murmured. “Keeping stuff all bottled up… doesn’t help anyone. We both know that.”

Yeah. 

They did both know. 

Because when Evan tried to bottle things, they exploded out and ruined everything. And when Connor tried to bottle things up… Evan exploded and ruined everything. Evan just fucking… ruined stuff. 

Fuck. 

He just ruined things because he was stupid, he was such a stupid fuck up. Such a stupid fuck up who ruined the most basic things, who couldn’t even go to fucking happy hour with the people he worked with without absolutely wrecking as much as he could in the space of a couple hours. 

Because he couldn’t fucking talk to people. Evan hadn’t realized exactly how much he relied on alcohol to get through the most basic and mundane social interactions. Evan was just… so fucking stupid. 

Evan’s eyes flooded. 

Connor’s hand tightened around Evan’s. “Hey, hey… What’s going on?”

Evan wiped his face frantically, sniffing and looking away. “Nothing,” He said pathetically. 

“Evan, come on -”

“No, I mean… That’s. It’s like. Nothing actually happened to make it a bad day? I just freaked out over… over nothing,” Evan said quietly. He took a breath. “Like. I freaked out because I have a hard time talking to people and because you left me on read.” 

“I didn’t mean to do that,” Connor said. “I know that makes you anxious, I really didn’t mean -”

Evan looked at Connor, frowning. “That’s not. I  _ know _ you didn’t. I’m not saying that because like, I think you fucked up or whatever. I’m trying to explain that I know how fucking  _ stupid _ it is to freak out about that? I know how… dumb it is to fixate on that.” 

Connor sighed softly beside him. 

“I’m being an idiot.” 

“Evan, come on, you know you’re not… you just -”

“Have a personality disorder, yeah, I know,” Evan said bitterly. “I just. I don’t want to be… this guy. Who is so crippled by what’s wrong with me that I can’t ever act like a normal fucking person.”

Connor gripped his hand harder. 

“Just. It just… doesn’t ever seem to get easier?” Evan took a deep breath. “I can’t. Talk to people. I’ve never really been able to do that, unless I’m drunk or, you know, behaving like a fucking idiot. I can’t… Just. It feels like I don’t belong anywhere. It’s like I’m always, just. On the outside, looking in, trying to figure out what the fuck I’m supposed to say and… It’s just frustrating? It’s frustrating to know that, like, no matter what I do it never gets any better. I never get better and I… hate this.”

“You have gotten so much better though,” Connor said in this reassuring voice, calm and… certain. 

Evan sighed, sniffled again. “You’re the only person who would say that.” 

“I swear I’m not,” Connor said. “But even if I was… Well then that’s me and you who disagree with your brain.”

Evan smiled miserably. “You’re too kind to me. Really. I… showed up drunk and… and injured. You’re… you’re too nice. You’re being too nice.”

“You’re too hard on yourself,” Connor said, his voice annoyingly reasonable. 

“And you give me a free pass when you shouldn’t,” Evan said. “I’m just. I’m sorry? For… relying on you so much. I know how unbelievably unfair it is to you.”

Connor squeezed his hand again. “You are my best friend, Evan. It’s… it’s really not like that for me.”

Evan sighed, exhaustion starting to creep in at the edges. “You’re too good. You’re way too… kind.” 

“I’m kind of an asshole, really.”

“No,” Evan said, sleepy but certain he had to say this. “You aren’t. Maybe you were… before. But you’re not an asshole. You’re amazing and kind and… you’re kind even when it’s unfair. When the odds are so stacked against you. And not just to me… to. Otis and Jax and Maureen and…Leslie. You are… so strong. Please don’t… don’t ever let anyone treat you like you’re not? You… punched a coma in a face. You fought your way back from… from another reality. You are… I just.” Evan could barely get the words out. “I can’t thank you enough for everything… I think you are amazing and strong and… wonderful. Kind. The…  _ best _ .”

Connor held Evan’s hand tighter. “We… we should sleep.”

Evan nodded. “Yeah.” 

Connor didn’t let go of Evan’s hand, and Evan held on tight tight tight, hoping that it would help. 

Evan could tell the moment when Connor dropped off to sleep. He got so quiet and so still and Evan thought back to the nights and nights after Connor came home from the hospital last summer when Evan would just watch him, torn between fear that he might not wake up again and knowing Connor was recovering and needed rest. 

Connor sighed in his sleep. Moved ever so slightly closer to Evan. 

God, that… That broke Evan a little. He hadn’t let himself think about that in so long…. Connor slept like a corpse, unmoving and breathing so quietly, but from time to time he would shift a little, and sigh. 

Fuck. 

Evan needed to sleep. His eyes itched. His head ached a bit and his chest felt a little too tight because he had been smoking again. He needed to sleep, but he didn’t want to. He was afraid of what might happen if he did. 

But he couldn’t fight it long. His new meds knocked him out quickly. Connor let out a soft, contented sigh, moving closer to Evan in bed, reaching out for him and Evan should roll away, should untangle himself and sleep on the sofa but… 

Connor’s arm wrapped around Evan’s middle, slightly cold hand reaching under Evan’s t-shirt to rest on his bare stomach. Evan had almost forgotten this… The feeling of Connor’s skin on him, how safe it made him feel, how real. Connor’s head was on the pillow right beside Evan’s. 

Evan should pull away. He knew he should. Connor was asleep, he wasn’t aware he was cuddling Evan, he wouldn’t want to be doing that… it wasn’t fair to just let Connor touch him but… Evan was so tired. So comfortable and warm. 

_ Just a minute longer,  _ Evan told himself, his eyelids growing heavier. He would pull away in a moment… he just needed. A minute. Just a minute....

* * *

Connor wakes up to the sound of gentle snoring and the smell of Evan’s shampoo. He takes in a deep breath, just letting himself enjoy the familiar sensation of home, of comfort, until he wakes up properly and realizes that this isn’t how things are supposed to be anymore. 

Fuck. 

Fuck, that’s…

Fuck. 

His arms are wrapped around Evan, his hand underneath Evan’s shirt, and he can feel the warmth of Evan’s body radiating into his hands, warming them through, because Evan is always warm. 

Except when he’s not. Except when he’s too thin and wasting away and trying to throw himself off a roof, looking at Connor with dead eyes and cold hands and-

“Mmm?” 

Connor barely has time to react before Evan’s pulling himself out of his grasp with wild hair and wide eyes, face pink with embarrassment. 

“I’m so sorry-”

“Don’t worry about it,” Connor interrupts, needing to nip this in the bud as quickly as he can. “It’s probably my fault. I’m super clingy in my sleep, you know that.”

Evan smiles briefly, then the embarrassment is back. “I… that’s not the only thing I’m sorry about, I… I’m so sorry about last night, about showing up drunk-”

“No,” Connor interrupts again, sharper than he means to. “You have nothing to be sorry about.”

“It’s not your job to look after-”

“I know. But I want to.” Connor looks at Evan, whose eyes are still wide, scared and brimming with something he can’t quite place. “It means a lot to me that you let me help, Evan. I just want to help.”

Evan’s quiet for a moment. 

“I know you do,” he says quietly. “You’re wonderful.”

Connor feels something warm blossom in his stomach, which quickly twists, moves into something bittersweet, something strange and nostalgic. 

He misses Evan. 

Evan’s right here and he misses him. 

Because he isn’t his anymore. 

“How are you feeling?” Connor asks, trying to distract himself and get back on track. “After last night? You… you were having a hard time.”

“I’m fine,” says Evan immediately, sitting up in bed. “I’m great, you… thank you so much for everything, I should go.”

Connor grabs Evan’s arm. The words slip out almost unintentionally. “Don’t go.”

Evan stares at him for a moment. 

“Not yet,” Connor continues. “Let’s… let’s hang out. We could go grab breakfast?”

Evan blinks. “Where?”

Connor swallows. “How about the diner where we didn’t die?”

The words hang in the air, hovering between them. 

“Do they still do that really good French toast?” Evan asks, his tone light but in a deliberate way that makes Connor wonder what he’s really asking. 

“I don’t know,” Connor tells him. “I haven’t been there since… since before I got sick.”

They sit with that for a moment. 

“I bet they haven’t changed the menu,” Connor ventures after a while. “Everyone loves French toast.” He looks Evan in the eye and grins. “With the possible exception of the French.”

Evan groans, rolls his eyes and gives Connor this incredibly annoyed look. 

Connor loves him. 

So much. 

Otis is up, which doesn’t surprise Connor that much, and it doesn’t take long for the three of them to get out the door and down to Pete’s Diner. The server seems to recognize Connor and gives him a bright smile, then directs them to the booth Connor and Evan always used to sit in. 

It… kind of hurts. 

It hurts to be here. 

Otis is watching both of them carefully, with this calm, steady look, then opens up the menu and starts talking his way through his options. 

“What do you recommend?” Otis asks Connor. 

Connor looks Evan dead in the eye. “The scrambled eggs.”

Evan narrows his eyes and glares at Connor, but his mouth curves into a smile, a smile that looks real, and Connor takes that as a victory. 

“Scrambled eggs?” Otis asks, looking between the two of them, and Evan launches into an explanation of why he thinks buying scrambled eggs in a restaurant is a waste of money, and Connor just kind of sits back and enjoys Evan on a rant about something he’s passionate about, even if it’s the stupidest damn thing to be passionate about. 

Connor does, in fact, end up with scrambled eggs, but also with toast and bacon and mushrooms. Evan is clearly a little annoyed but seems to have given up trying to argue. He has, as expected, ordered the French toast. Otis has an omelette with basically everything in it, and the three of them talk about nothing in particular as they eat. 

“So,” Otis says after a while, looking at Evan. “You’re okay?”

Evan nods. “Yeah. I really am.”

Connor watches Evan carefully. He doesn’t think he’s lying. 

“You weren’t doing so great yesterday,” Connor says carefully. “You’re sure?”

Evan gives this little laugh. Shrugs a bit. “Rapidly cycling moods,” he says, and something kind of clicks in Connor’s mind, because he remembers reading about that in the many, many articles and studies he’s read about BPD in the last few months. 

“Okay,” says Connor, and resolves to take him at his word. 

When they’ve both finished eating, the server leaves the check. Connor and Evan exchange a look. 

“I’ve got this,” they both say at the exact same time. 

Evan shakes his head. “Like hell you do,” he says, his tone almost teasing. “I’m paying.”

“You’re not making fancy corporate money anymore,” Connor points out. “And I’m about to get a big-ass settlement from the lawsuit.”

“You haven’t got it yet,” Evan replies immediately. “And you’ve bought me way too much food over our relationship.” His cheeks go pink. “Friendship.”

“Most of it I’ve cooked myself,” Connor shoots back, feeling his own cheeks heat up. “Doesn’t count.”

“It absolutely counts,” Evan replies. “You have to buy ingredients and there are labor costs. I should have been paying you an hourly rate.”

“An hourly rate?” Connor echoes, raising his eyebrows and grinning. “Like I’m a prostitute?”

Evan’s cheeks burn but he doesn’t break eye contact. “Sex work is perfectly legitimate and deserves respect, Connor.”

“Hey, I respect sex workers!” Connor says, a little louder than he intends to, just in time for the server to come back. Otis hands the server a wad of cash and the check before either Evan or Connor can react. 

When the server leaves, Otis grins at them. 

“I’ll pay you back,” both Evan and Connor say in unison. 

Otis laughs. “Like hell you will,” he says, his eyes bright and alert, his face young and alive. “It’s not my fault the two of you couldn’t stop flirting to agree.”

Evan kind of splutters some kind of argument, cheeks going red, and Connor can’t help but watch, enjoying how the color spreads across his face. 

Otis is a good kid, Connor thinks, but he’s seeing things that aren’t there. 

Evan’s not flirting. And even if he is, it’s just… muscle memory, remnants of a time that’s long gone. 

It’s in the past now. 

What Evan and Connor had…

It’s in the past. 


	148. ONE HUNDRED AND FORTY-SEVEN

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> "Both of us were just stubbornly hanging on to something that didn’t exist and maybe never had."

It’s shaping up to be a stupidly hot summer and Connor’s grateful for it. Evan keeps muttering about climate change whenever they see each other, which is both adorable and completely expected, but Connor’s just enjoying being warm. Consistently, always warm. 

He’s never taking that for granted again.

The store has lots of events planned as summer begins, and Connor finds himself busy almost every weekend. Evan, who has more free time on his hands than he seems to know what to do with, offers to help out, and Connor lets him because he likes having Evan around, likes having him close, likes seeing for himself that he’s alive. 

The bookstore kids have basically gotten used to Evan’s continual presence at The Little Book Nook. Jax still doesn’t trust Evan, that much is obvious, but they’re polite and respectful toward him and treat him with professionalism, which is all Connor can really ask for. Maureen is cautious but friendly and polite. 

Leslie, on the other hand, has more or less welcomed Evan back with open arms. She’s always been fond of Evan, that much Connor knows, and definitely had a crush on him a few years back. Connor finds himself weirdly annoyed by how friendly Leslie is with Evan for the first little while, but forces himself to get over it when Leslie seems to catch on and starts talking about her girlfriend Camille in every single conversation, as if to remind Connor that she’s very much off the market. 

It’s nice having Evan around for these events, to be honest. He knows the bookstore back to front, almost as well as Connor does, and he never has to be told anything twice. He’s revamped mailing lists, sorted out stock reports, made some suggestions to improve various admin tasks and streamlined a bunch of different things.

“I should be paying you personal assistant rates,” Connor joked once, and Evan had gone pink, this gorgeous pink that made Connor desperately want to kiss him. 

“I’m just happy to help,” Evan had replied, his eyes soft. “After everything you’ve done for me, this is the very least I can do.”

“You don’t owe me anything,” Connor had insisted, and Evan had just shook his head, looking at him with this fond expression, with beautiful, warm, clear eyes. Not dull and dead and hopeless like they’d been in February. Warm and alive and soft and inviting and…

Connor just loves him so much. 

So, so fucking much. 

It keeps trying to burst out of him. He needs to keep it locked away, because it’s not Evan’s fault, it’s not Evan’s problem that Connor’s having a hard time letting go of what they used to be to each other. 

Connor’s getting better at locking away his feelings, little by little. He’s determined not to put them on Evan, because Evan’s got enough on his plate with his own feelings. Connor’s done research about BPD, trying to get his head around it, trying to understand his friend better. He understands to an extent, although he’s never going to completely get it, and mostly it just makes him sad. Sad that Evan has to deal with so much. 

He just wants to make things easier on him. 

Any way he can. 

Connor’s keeping so busy that it takes him a while to realize that sometime in the month, Graham has stopped answering his texts. Genuinely just stopped replying. 

When he stops to think about it, it’s been months since he’s seen Graham in person, too. Graham had a habit of just stopping by with cupcakes, especially after Connor got out of hospital, but he hasn’t done that in… a while. 

Not since he stopped by with Sabrina while Evan was in treatment. 

Fuck. 

He definitely should have noticed this earlier. Should have seen something was going on. Should have realized that he was being blown off, that there was…

Well. 

It’s no secret Sabrina’s not Connor’s biggest fan since he and Evan split up. 

It’s also no secret that Sabrina and Graham didn’t see eye to eye on the whole situation. That it caused some serious problems in their marriage. 

Connor has a sneaking suspicion that Sabrina might have laid down some kind of ultimatum to Graham. Made Graham choose. 

Of course Graham chose Sabrina. 

Of course he did. 

Connor wouldn’t have expected anything less. 

It’s just…

Fuck. 

It sucks. 

Connor tries calling Graham but doesn’t get an answer. Leaves a polite, short message asking if they could grab a beer sometime, and doesn’t get a response. 

It…

It really fucking sucks. 

The bookstore kids seem to notice he’s kind of bummed out that week. Maureen and Jax make chocolate cupcakes that look like Edgar, which cheer Connor up a little, and Leslie takes Connor out for a drink after closing on Tuesday. They’re all gentle with him, checking in on him in a way that’s become familiar ever since his illness last year. 

“You don’t need to babysit me,” he tells Leslie when they’re out for a drink. “I’m fine, really.”

Leslie smiles, this indulgent smile that makes it obvious she thinks he’s full of shit. “We know. But if you weren’t fine, that would be okay, too.”

Connor doesn’t talk to Leslie about what’s happening with Graham. Doesn’t talk to Zoe, or Andre, or Otis. 

He sure as fuck doesn’t want to talk to Evan about it. 

But…

Well, he knows that Evan and Sabrina had coffee around the time that Evan started his new job. Evan hasn’t said much about Sabrina since then, but Connor wouldn’t be surprised if they were still meeting up for coffee regularly. 

Evan always seems to come back to Sabrina. 

Which is… 

It is what it is. 

Connor has no leg to stand on. No right to be upset. 

Evan’s not his boyfriend. He can do what he wants. 

There’s an author meet and greet at the bookstore that Saturday. It’s an event Connor had been really looking forward to, but he can’t quite shake this overwhelming feeling of sadness that’s taken hold of him. It’s obvious enough that the author actually takes him aside to ask him if he’s okay, seeming genuinely concerned. Connor assures them that yes, he’s fine, and they frown a little, seemingly unconvinced. 

Evan’s on deck, helping to keep things going smoothly, and he seems to pick up on Connor’s mood as well, so Connor redoubles his efforts to be personable and charming, switching on his best ‘dealing with customers’ face and fighting to keep it up throughout the whole event. 

By the time they’ve wrapped up the event, he’s exhausted, and all he wants to do is just crawl into bed. He settles for letting Evan order Thai food, heading up to his apartment and putting on an old episode of The Office while they wait for their meal to arrive. 

It doesn’t take long after the food arrives for Evan to address the elephant in the room. 

“You’ve been weird all day,” Evan says, more bluntly that Connor expects. “What’s going on?”

“It’s stupid,” Connor says, frowning. 

Evan raises his eyebrows. “Everything’s stupid. Tell me.”

Connor sighs. “It’s nothing, really, it’s just… Graham kinda ghosted me?” He sighs again and stabs at his pad thai aggressively. “I haven’t seen him in person in ages and we used to catch up, like, every couple of weeks at least, and text pretty often. And now it’s been a full month since he answered one of my texts and I’m just… kind of bummed about it?” He shrugs. Tries to put a bite of pad thai in his mouth and misses, then tries again. “It’s stupid. I’m being stupid and emo about it. It’ll pass.”

“I’m sorry,” says Evan, but the expression on his face is strained and conflicted and Connor doesn’t know what to do with it.

Connor shrugs. “I kinda… I know Sabrina kind of hates me these days, so I figure that’s why.” He bites his lip. Takes a deep breath. Doesn’t look at Evan as he continues. “Sabrina hasn’t said anything about it to you, has she?”

“No,” Evan replies, his voice thin and a little wobbly. “We, uh… we haven’t talked since we had coffee before I started the new job. Things are… things aren’t great with us, either.”

A part of Connor feels better hearing this. 

Another part just feels worse. 

“I’m sorry.”

Evan’s mouth twists into this horrible attempt of a smile. “It’s my own fault? I’m the one who… who fucked things up there, I-”

“She’s important to you,” Connor interrupts, not wanting Evan to get stuck in a cycle of self-loathing. “She’s… you care about her, and it’s… it’s hard. It’s hard when you care about someone and they… they let you go.”

Connor wants to kick himself the moment the words are out of his mouth. 

Evan’s eyes widen a little and he nods. “Yeah.” 

Connor shifts awkwardly in his seat. “Well now I feel stupid,” he admits. 

Evan frowns. “What? Why?”

Connor shrugs. “I’m being a little bitch about Graham ghosting me when we don’t have nearly as much history as you and Sabrina have. It’s… it’s stupid.”

“It’s not stupid,” Evan insists. “You were friends.”

“Not like you and Sabrina were friends,” Connor counters immediately. 

Evan looks a little pained. 

Connor hates himself for bringing it up. 

He sighs. 

“I’m being an asshole,” he says, shaking his head. “Forget I said anything.”

Evan shakes his head. “No,” he says firmly. “No, you’re allowed to feel however you feel about it.” He frowns a little. “You said that… you and Graham hung out a lot after you got out of hospital, right? When we… when we weren’t talking?”

Connor feels that like a stab to the chest. “Yeah,” he says with a nod. “He, uh… he visited a lot? We played a lot of X-Box, ate a lot of burgers. It was… nice.” He tries to smile. “I’ve never really had a straight friend before, so it was a novelty.”

Evan almost smiles at that, then sighs. His next words come out in a rush. 

“I just… I hate that you’ve lost something else because of me.”

* * *

“I just… I hate that you’ve lost something else because of me,” Evan said, the words tumbling out fast, rushed, like if he said it quickly it would hurt less. 

Connor frowned. “I… You didn’t make Graham ghost me,” he said, looking intently at his Pad Thai. 

“Trust me, this is… definitely on me,” Evan said, his voice coming out just a little bit more pained and obvious than he had hoped. 

Connor sighed. “So Sabrina really does hate me right now then?”

Evan frowned more, feeling anger flickering to life inside of him. Sabrina did hate Connor, that was true, but her reasons were… not logical. They were all wrapped up in her complicated feelings about Evan, in her jealousy and resentment that Evan had worked on himself when he was with Connor but not when he was with her and that… wasn’t fucking fair. Plus, she was holding onto the cheating thing with both hands, despite Evan trying to better explain that the situation wasn’t nearly as cut and dry as he had made it out to be. It… sucked. “Sabrina is…I don’t know what she is. We’re not really talking. But last time we did… yeah. She was pissed at you, and her reasons are really... unreasonable.”

Connor looked sad. “Because of Parker or…?”

“See, told you this was my fault,” Evan said, shaking his head. “I never should have said a word about that to her. I was just tired of her demanding to know what happened. I’m sorry.” He swallowed hard. “But… no. It’s not just Parker. It’s a whole… whatever,” he said, aggressively stabbing his food with his fork. “She just…” 

Evan didn’t know how to finish. 

Connor just watched him, his eyes guarded. 

“The things she’s upset with me about aren’t, like, fair?” Evan said eventually. “Like. She  _ should  _ be angry that I treated her like shit. That I just stopped talking to her when she was just trying to check on me. That I said some… horrible things.” He shook his head, because he really really didn’t like thinking back to the awful, spiteful, hateful things he had said. “But it’s just. The same shit she’s always mad at me about.”

Connor looked down at his food, then back up at Evan, uncertainty in his eyes. Like maybe he wanted to ask Evan to explain but wasn’t sure if it was allowed. 

Evan put his food on the table. “Sabrina. She like… she’s always had this idea in her head about who I’m supposed to be. How I’m supposed to be. And I’ve… I’m just never going to be that person.”

“I’m sorry,” Connor said. 

“No,  _ I’m  _ sorry,” Evan said. “Graham…He’s taking sides and I’m the reason there are even sides to take. And I’m really fucking sorry. You shouldn’t be getting blown off by your friend because Sabrina and I are. Whatever we are.”

Connor chewed his lip for a moment. “I… I know she’s important to you,” He said, his tone careful. Measured. “But to be perfectly honest, I never totally like. Got it?”

Evan nodded. “I know,” He said. “Just… She. I think she is genuinely a really good person? And when we started talking in college it was like… It was really  _ nice _ . Being seen, I guess? And like. Sabrina’s this super insecure person, but you’d never know it because she like. Pukes rainbows and glitter all over everything. She never lets that shit show and at twenty, I dunno. I couldn’t figure out if I wanted to be like her or… or be with her so.”

“Oh,” Connor said. 

“We just. Did everything together?” Evan said. “Lived in dorms near each other, took a lot of the same classes. Had all the same friends. She, like. Made room for me in her life and never let anyone say a word against me? And at the time, that. I dunno, I thought that was the most important thing? That she thought I was worth making space for.” He rubbed his face, feeling his cheeks burning in shame. “But I dunno. There wasn’t a lot of space to, like, actually move once I got there? I’m… Aware that I’m sort of weird. And there definitely wasn’t room for me to not be, like, totally normal and totally fine.”

Connor raised his eyebrows. 

Evan shrugged it off. “I dunno, in undergrad there was always sort of a… I always felt like she would prefer it if I kept quiet about the, uh, panic attacks and bisexuality and my very strong opinions on stupid stuff? Like, she wasn’t embarrassed of me but… embarrassed for me? Or something?”

“That… that really sucks,” Connor said, his brow furrowing. 

“I don’t. Look. That makes her sound horrible,” Evan said, trying to backtrack. “Sabrina is not a horrible person. Most of the issue there was that… she wanted that from me and I. Went with it? I never pushed back, I never stood up and said that I really didn’t give a shit if her friend Owen from down the hall thought my interest in the environment was a major buzzkill.” He took a breath. Blew it out. “And… I just think it’s always been hard for her to just… understand that I didn’t, like, pick my shitty brain. That wanting to get help is a real process that is… ongoing. That just because I can see from the outside that the ways I feel aren’t always based in reality doesn’t mean I can like. Turn it off. That there was never going to be a day when I was just going to wake up and be fixed.”

Connor nodded. “Is that why you broke up?” He asked. 

Evan shrugged, but then nodded. “I mean. Yeah, I guess? It wasn’t like I didn’t want to be magically better for her? I just… I realized that I just. I couldn’t do it anymore. I wasn’t the person she wanted to be with and I was never going to be that guy, and it… it was making me miserable. Or. More miserable than I already was. And. It wouldn’t have been fair to stick around and pretend? She was waiting for me to become someone I can’t be. And then like. My feelings had, you know, changed. I didn’t fit with her anymore, and both of us were just stubbornly hanging on to something that didn’t exist and maybe never had. So… yeah.” 

* * *

“My feelings had, you know, changed. I didn’t fit with her anymore, and both of us were just stubbornly hanging on to something that didn’t exist and maybe never had. So… yeah.”

Connor has to sit with that for a while. 

It feels like a slap in the face, like stepping into a bathtub full of ice, but at the same time it feels… inevitable. 

Of course. 

It…. it makes sense that’s how Evan feels about Sabrina. 

How he feels about  _ Connor. _

_ “It wouldn’t have been fair to stick around and pretend.” _

Connor swallows. 

He knows he knows he knows he’s known for months, for nearly a year now, that Evan had stopped loving him, that his feelings had changed. 

Even if he thinks he’s talking about Sabrina, Connor knows. 

He knows. 

“You’re right,” Connor manages to choke out, fighting to keep his voice steady. “That it’s not fair to stick around and pretend. You… you did what was best for you, and you… you shouldn’t feel bad about that.”

Evan looks at him, something sad and surprised in his expression. “I’m so sorry about Graham,” he says quietly. “It’s not fair.”

“A lot of things aren’t fair,” Connor points out, shrugging a little. 

It’s not fair that Connor hasn’t figured out how to turn off his feelings for Evan when Evan’s feelings toward him changed a long time ago. 

It’s not fair that Connor got stuck in a fucking alternate universe and made a mistake and ruined everything. 

It’s not fair it’s not fair it’s not fair. 

But there’s nothing he can do about it now. 

“It is what it is,” Connor says finally, nodding a little. 

Evan’s face twists into something so heartbreakingly sad it makes Connor want to cry. 

“Yeah,” he says softly. “It is what it is.”


	149. ONE HUNDRED AND FORTY-EIGHT

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> "I tell him everything but he might not know. I… I thought he knew.”

Evan had fucked up. 

He had really fucked up and once he realized how badly he had fucked up it was too late to actually say anything about it so now Evan was walking into Oliver’s office feeling like the biggest idiot imaginable. 

Oliver looked troubled when he saw Evan. “What’s going on?” He said immediately. 

Evan sank miserably into his preferred chair. “I fucked up.”

Oliver nodded apprehensively. “Fucked up how exactly? Do I need to be concerned about your safety?”

Evan shook his head. “No, no, I’m fine. Surprisingly fine, honestly, just sort of. Embarrassed and mad at myself.”

Oliver nodded, smiling. “What did you say to Connor then?”

“Am I that obvious?”

Oliver smiled. “Would it make you feel better if I said no?”

Evan glowered at his therapist. “You’re hilarious. You should do stand up.”

Oliver’s eyes lit up. “Actually, I do open mic nights sometimes for fun with some other therapist friends.”

“Of course you do,” Evan said shaking his head. He still felt, like, out of breath. Unsure why he felt so… panicked by admitting this to Oliver. He just felt freaked and had no idea what the fuck he was going to do. 

“You’re avoiding the question,” Oliver said gently. 

“Fuck,” Evan said. “I just. I’ve been a fucking anxious wreck for like three days now because of this but the idea of actually spitting it out is… worse? Somehow?”

Oliver nodded. “Okay. Want to try something with me?”

Evan eyed him suspiciously, “Am I allowed to ask more about what it is before I decide?”

“Yeah,” Oliver said with a smile. “What I’m noticing right now is you’re really… tightly wound. Your shoulders are tense and resting high, and you’re breathing a bit raggedly. So, before we talk more, let’s try to see if we can… help that settle a little.”

“By doing, what, like, breathing exercises?” Evan said dubiously. Oliver knew about his absolute hatred of breathing exercises. 

“Nah, I think we should just lay on the floor,” Oliver said. 

“You’re joking,” Evan said, eyebrows up. But Oliver, apparently, was not, because he had moved off of his chair to come sit in front of the loveseat. Still unsure, Evan moved to mimic him. 

“So, I think we’re just gonna chill out here,” Oliver said, laying on his back, “And stick our legs up on the couch? That’ll help our heart rates to slow down and our bodies to, like, chill a little.”

Evan felt kind of stupid, but he did as he was told. He lay back on the floor, his legs elevated on the sofa. “Now what?”

“We just hang out for a couple of minutes,” Oliver said, like it was simple. “No breathing exercises or anything. Just, whenever you feel like you are ready to talk, you talk okay? And if this feels weird or unhelpful, you are totally free to move or get up or tell me, okay?”

Evan sighed. He stayed there, on his back, his legs on the sofa and just kind of. Looked at the ceiling. Noticed some cracks in the paint, found himself sort of thinking about how weird it was that most people painted their walls but left the ceiling white. He wondered why that was. Why people had decided over time that that was the sort of standard for how things should look indoors. 

And then, almost without warning, Evan found his voice. “I think I might have really upset Connor without meaning to?”

“Okay,” Oliver said. “What did you say?”

Evan explained about Graham ghosting Connor. About Connor asking if Sabrina had mentioned it, and Evan telling Connor that he wasn’t really talking to Sabrina right now. How he had told Connor more about breaking up with Sabrina. “I said that… she and I just didn’t fit together anymore,” Evan said. “And that it wouldn’t have been fair for me to pretend by sticking around. And I think. I think he took that to mean that. That that’s what happened with us?”

Oliver frowned. “Oh. Shit. That… Yeah that sucks.”

Evan turned his head to the side and glared. “You’re a therapist, dude! Can you please give me something other than ‘that sucks’ please?”

“Fair enough, fair enough.” Oliver took a breath. “So why don’t we… just try to sit with this feeling you’re having for a minute? Figure out what it might be trying to tell you.”

Evan nodded. “Okay.”

“So just. Close your eyes for a moment. Find a comfortable position. You can focus on your breath if you want to, but don’t feel obligated. And just. Take some time to really sit with that feeling.”

So Evan sat with it. Waited to see if focusing on whatever anxious, scary, genuinely bad feeling he was having was going to shred some light upon its cause. 

And when it dawned on him, Evan felt like such a fucking idiot. “Oh my god I… I don’t. I don’t want him to think I stopped loving him, I don’t… I love him and he doesn’t know. Oh my god I am so stupid.”

“Hey,” Oliver said. “Judgment.”

Evan sighed. “Fine but. I… I’m upset and anxious because I… I hate the idea of Connor thinking I ever stopped loving him. And it sucks because… because I’m the reason he would even think that, I’m the one who left and… I. Fuck. I tell him everything but he might not know. I… I thought he knew.”

“Oh?” Oliver said, surprised. 

“In… in February, I… I thought I was hallucinating him,” Evan said, his voice soft, ragged in his ears. “I asked him to kiss me because I didn’t think he was real. And he… he said no and I…. I said I didn’t want him because I thought that meant he was imaginary but what… what if he thought I didn’t want  _ him _ , like, full stop? And then, with this conversation, he might… he might think I was talking metaphorically but… Fuck.”

Oliver nodded along with what Evan was saying. “So. What do you want to do? Do you want to tell Connor how you feel?”

Evan sucked in a deep breath. “I… yes. And also, like. No?”

“Say more?”

“If I tell him, he could reject me. He might not even, like, want me to love him anymore. It could… it could mean I lose him entirely.”

Oliver made a sympathetic noise. 

“And the lawsuit against the hospital is finally going into settlement talks and… and he almost died last year. Right now is… it’s probably not the best time to, like, pop up out of nowhere and go, ‘Surprise I’ve had feelings for you this whole time!’”

“So you’re worried about timing and rejection,” Oliver summarized. 

“When you put it like that it sounds so, like, normal,” Evan said. 

Oliver grinned. “I hate to break it to you, but being mentally ill does not exempt you from having the same problems that people who aren’t mentally ill have.”

“That’s bullshit,” Evan said. “I should, like, get a problem discount.”

Oliver smiled. 

They stayed on the floor for the rest of the session, talking more in depth about Evan’s concerns about Connor rejecting him, about his backslide into self harm a few weeks back. 

When the session was about over, Evan and Oliver got up off the floor. Dusted off their clothes. Evan laughed, suddenly remembering this stupid thing he had seen online that he had wanted to show Oliver. “You’ve probably seen this, but sometimes I feel like I walk into our sessions like this.”

It was a tumblr post that read, “Me rollerblading into my therapist’s office this week with sunglasses and a piña colada: maurice, you’re not gonna fucking believe this,”

Oliver cracked up laughing. “Oh man that’s great. I fucking love that.” He touched Evan’s shoulder briefly. “You will find the right time to tell Connor, okay? I trust that you will.”

* * *

Connor’s been aware of the lawsuit against the hospital for the last year but he hasn’t had much to do with it. Not really. It seems… weird to him, knowing that a lot of what happened to him just couldn’t be explained, couldn’t be predicted. It sits strangely, the idea that someone needs to take the blame. 

His dad has kept him out of it for the most part, wanting to spare him the pain of reliving the experience, but has let him know that he’d probably need to give a statement eventually. 

Eventually, it seems, has arrived. 

“I don’t know what to say,” Connor confesses to his dad over coffee. “I… there’s a lot about it I don’t even remember. It’s all kind of a blur, being in hospital, and…” Connor shrugs. Trails off. Looks at his coffee cup. “I was in a coma, I wasn’t… it was you guys who had to deal with all of that. I wasn’t… I wasn’t really there.”

His dad doesn’t reply. 

When Connor looks up, he can see that his dad’s eyes are glassy. That he’s fighting to keep his composure. 

“The hospital is going to settle,” his dad says finally, his voice a little rough. “I’m sure of it. There’s no way they’re letting this go to court. It would be a media circus, and they definitely want to avoid that.” 

“Does that mean they’ll cover the costs of Evan’s treatment?” Connor asks. “That’s all I care about.”

His dad blinks. “They’ll cover the treatment,” he says slowly. “More than cover it. This is likely to be a multi-million dollar settlement, Connor.”

Connor blinks. 

Blinks again. 

“Wait, what?”

His dad nods. “You deserve to be looked after,” he says firmly. “After everything you’ve been through.”

Connor feels a little fucking lightheaded at the thought of a fucking multi-million dollar settlement. “What the fuck am I going to do with multiple millions of dollars? Put gold-plated toilet seats in the bathroom of the bookstore?”

“If you want,” his dad says, the corner of his mouth turning up in clear amusement. His smile fades into something more serious. “Your mother will be giving a statement as well. She’s flying in on Thursday.”

Connor’s suddenly hit with this desperate need to talk and to see his mom. “Has she already booked a hotel?” he asks. 

“I told her I’d take care of the booking,” says his dad, tilting his head a little bit. Something in his face softens. “Would you rather she stayed with you?”

“Yeah,” Connor says immediately. He tries to smile. “I… I think it’d make it easier. If she was staying with me.”

His dad nods. Smiles a little, then reaches out to take Connor’s hand. 

Connor’s dad’s hands are slightly cold, Connor notices. 

It must be where he gets it from. 

“I think she’d like that,” says his dad warmly. “It might make it easier on her, too.”

Connor goes to pick his mother up from the airport on Thursday in the middle of the day. She looks tired when she gets off the plane. Connor’s heart clenches a little with guilt. 

This can’t be easy for her. No doubt it’s bringing back painful memories. 

When they finally reach each other, his mom pulls him into a tight hug, almost painfully tight, and holds him for a long time. Like she’s trying to reassure herself that Connor’s real and alive. 

“Hi mom.”

“Hi sweetheart,” his mom says, her voice a little rough. She finally lets go, but only a little. “It’s so good to see you.”

“It’s good to see you, too,” Connor says, because it is.

His mom smiles. “You look good.” The smile twists a little bit, tinged with sadness. “Healthy. Strong.”

Connor’s oddly glad to hear that. 

It means something. 

He utterly fails at trying to pay for the cab back to the bookstore himself. They spend the journey talking about a book they’ve both been reading, and it’s comfortable and easy and familiar in a way that Connor still feels like he’s getting used to, even now. 

There were so many years when he and his mother were virtual strangers to each other. 

In the universe where Evan was dead, his mother couldn’t even hold his hand. 

Knowing that his mom is here, that they can talk…

It means something. 

On arrival at the bookstore, both Maureen and Edgar seem delighted to see Cynthia. Maureen gives her a big hug and Edgar rubs his little face on her ankles until she bends down to scratch behind his ears. 

“Good flight, Mrs Murphy?” asks Jax politely from behind the counter. 

“You can call me Cynthia, Jax,” she says warmly. “And yes, it was good. Not too bumpy, which I always appreciate.” Her smile gets a little sheepish. “I’m not the best flyer.”

“That’s why she flies business class,” Connor chimes with a grin. “Easier to get drunk in business class.”

His mom rolls her eyes but doesn’t deny it. 

She does, in fact, go to lie down in the guest room almost as soon as they make it upstairs to Connor’s apartment. Connor teases her about being a lightweight but knows deep down that it’s probably got more to do with her just being tired in general. 

She’s probably not sleeping well. 

Connor knows he sure as hell isn’t. 

Zoe shows up mid-afternoon, to Connor’s surprise. She’s still in her work clothes and a full face of sensible makeup, but even the makeup can’t hide the fact that she also looks exhausted. 

Connor hates it a lot. 

“Finished work early?” Connor asks as they sit down on the sofa together. 

Zoe nods. “I took tomorrow off,” she says, her voice quieter than usual. “Organized to finish up early today. I just… kind of needed the brain space, you know?”

Connor knows. 

Connor and Zoe end up watching old episodes of The Office until there’s a knock at the door just before five. Connor goes to answer it to find his dad there, in a suit and tie with huge bags under his eyes, skin paler than usual. 

It makes something inside him twinge painfully. 

“Just wanted to check in,” his dad says. “You’re okay?”

“I’m okay,” Connor assures him, opening the door to let him in. He’s surprised when his dad pulls him into a hug as soon as he’s inside, but not as surprised as he would have been a year ago. 

He’s still not used to his dad being so openly affectionate, but he knows he likes it. 

It’s just different. 

So many things are different from how they were a year ago. 

Connor leads his dad into the living room where Zoe’s still on the sofa. She gets up and hugs their dad, then they all settle back down on sofas and armchairs. 

“What should we expect tomorrow?” Zoe asks, her jaw set determinedly. “Are they going to argue with us? Try to tell us we’re overreacting and things weren’t that bad or some bullshit like that?”

“Not a chance,” their dad says immediately. “There’s no denying how serious things were. They’re not going to argue.” He looks at Connor briefly, then back to Zoe. “These are just… final statements. About the impact Connor’s illness had on us as his family.” Something flashes across his face. “I’ve already read Evan’s statement. It had… quite an effect.”

Zoe’s eyes flash with anger but mercifully, she doesn’t say anything. 

It’s then that Connor’s mom comes into the living room, hair tied back and face devoid of makeup. Her cheeks turn pink when she sees Larry sitting in the living room armchair. 

Connor’s dad clears his throat. Connor could swear Larry was blushing as well. 

“I didn’t realize you were here,” says Connor’s mom, a little awkwardly. “I thought you’d be at the hotel.”

“I wanted to check in,” says Larry, equally awkwardly. “How was your flight?”

“Not too bad, all things considered.”

Connor’s dad blinks, then turns back to look at Connor and Zoe. “How about the four of us go get something to eat? Might be good to take our minds off things.”

Everyone agrees. 

It’s… surprisingly a really pleasant evening. Connor can’t remember the last time all four of them ate a meal together like this. It has to have been back when he was in high school. 

And back then, meals were far from pleasant. 

But this is nice. Really nice.

Connor supposes there’s nothing like a tragedy to bring people together. 

He’s so glad he’s here. 

So fucking glad he’s still here. 


	150. ONE HUNDRED AND FORTY-NINE

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> "You deserve something good to come out of all of this.”

Evan woke up before his alarm to his phone buzzing. He saw, squinting at his phone, that Connor was calling and his heart immediately started to race, he was immediately horrified because it was 6:45 am, it was early, why was Connor calling was something wrong was he hurt was he sick again -?

“Hello?” Evan answered, a little desperately, heart in his throat, terrified. 

“Hi, shit, did I wake you?” Connor said, his voice sounding… fine. Calm. Normal. “Shit, that’s right, you don’t start until nine now I was thinking of how you used to start at seven-thirty, fuck, I woke you didn’t I?”

“It’s fine,” Evan said, groggily. “What’s up? Everything okay?”

“Everything’s fine,” Connor said, sounding almost embarrassed. No. Definitely embarrassed. “Just. I have to go do that whole, like, court thing this morning? Like. Give my statement or whatever, so I’m supposed to be there and ready to go by eight o’clock and I slept like shit so I’ve had like three cups of coffee already and my dad texted me, like, ten minutes ago being like ‘Connor you should wear a tie,’ and I… do not own a tie. And I thought, like, you’d be up and maybe I could borrow one?”

Evan blinked a few times, his brain still not totally awake. “You want to borrow a tie?” He said, making sure he was hearing that right. This sort of felt like a strange dream he might be having. Evan was prepared to go with that but still. 

“I… yeah. Sorry. I can just go without one, my dad will just deal I don’t wear ties. I’m sorry, go back to sleep…”

“No, I’m… I’m up. Gimme a sec,” Evan said, rubbing his eyes sleepily and stumbling toward his closet. He switched on the light and stared at his tie collection. “What color suit are you wearing?”

“It’s. Uh. The suit I wore to Sabrina and Graham’s wedding? It was a little bit big on me then so… Yeah.”

Evan blinked. “Wasn’t there a tie with that?”

“Uh, yeah but. Edgar kinda… destroyed it a few months back.”

“Oh.”

“I… might have given it to him,” Connor admitted, sounding… sad. 

“Right,” Evan said, his heart aching because he had been the one who wore that tie, and that night was still burned into his brain, horrible, awful, the beginning of the end, Connor hurting himself trying to take care of Evan who had gotten horribly, pathetically drunk. Evan swallowed hard, a lump in his throat. “Uh. It’s charcoal then? The suit?” There were no pictures of that day that Evan cared to see. 

“Yeah,” Connor said awkwardly. “Kinda blueish?”

“Right,” Evan said, snatching a number of blue ties out of his closet. “Okay, give me like…” He squinted at his clock, very annoyed not to be able to read it without his glasses. “Fifteen minutes and I’ll bring a few options over.”

“You really don’t need to -”

“It’s fine,” Evan said, stifling a yawn. “Happy to help. I’m on my way shortly.” He and Connor hung up, and Evan threw the ties he had grabbed into his bag. He hurried to the bathroom, saying an awkward hello to Cody who was deep in conversation with someone on the phone in what sounded like Russian. Evan showered quickly, brushed his teeth, dragged a comb through his damp hair and and hurried back to his room where he quickly put on deodorant and the clothes he had picked out for work the night before (a white short sleeve button down with a navy checkered pattern, khakis, and a light cardigan because he was too self-conscious to go to work in short sleeves) and his glasses. Surprisingly ahead of schedule, Evan stopped off a deli that was halfway to the bookstore. He grabbed a coffee and a bagel for himself and a bagel for Connor who definitely needed to eat something before he went to court… 

He knew Connor had mostly just not thought about the lawsuit. When it had come up, Connor had openly said that to Evan. He didn’t like thinking about it so he tried to avoid it. 

Evan, meanwhile… 

Well he hoped the hospital paid for what happened. The Murphys had been through hell. It was the least the hospital could do to make up for it. 

He know there was some… interdimensional, reality breaking fuckery involved in why Connor was in a coma for almost a month but. Evan didn’t exactly  _ care _ . Connor had gone in for a routine appendectomy and the hospital staff (Alex excluded) dicked around and waited until Connor’s appendix burst to treat him. And when he didn’t wake up, the doctors hardly seemed to care that someone with a life was lying in that bed. They were all mostly just desperate to solve the puzzle, make sure their malpractice premiums didn’t go up… And when Connor almost died? 

Evan was still disgusted thinking about the doctors theorizing and talking over each other to explain what had happened.

Connor deserved to get money out of this. The Murphys all did. 

At the last second in line at the deli, Evan ordered a second coffee and another bagel because he remembered that Cynthia was staying with Connor and it would be rude to only show up with food for one of them. 

Still on time, and really proud of himself for doing all of this so quickly, Evan buzzed the door to the apartment above the bookstore at 7:00am exactly. A moment later, Connor appeared, wearing his suit pants and a button down shirt, his hair still down, and a frown. 

“You really did not need to rush over here at like seven o’clock in the morning,” Connor said, frowning. “I just. I guess I’m sort of nervous about this whole thing and… yeah. Sorry.”

Evan shook his head. “Really. It’s fine. I’m happy to help,” He said, heading toward the stairs. “I brought you a bagel by the way.”

“What?” Connor said, his brow furrowing. 

“You’ve had three cups of coffee and I’m willing to bet my next paycheck you haven’t had anything to eat to go with it,” Evan said, eyebrows up. 

Connor looked a little guilty. They headed inside Connor’s apartment, and Connor mumbled that his mom was in the shower, and had been complaining of a headache before, so the pair of them headed into Connor’s bedroom to consider the tie options. 

Evan handed Connor the bagel he had gotten him, putting the coffees down on Connor’s nightstand. Edgar wound himself around Evan’s ankles, purring. “Please eat that.”

“Gee, thanks  _ mom _ .”

“Alright,” Evan said, going into his bag and ignoring Connor’s comment. “I have like… six options.” 

“I don’t know anything about ties,” Connor said around a mouthful of bagel. 

“Where’s your jacket?” Evan asked him, looking around. Connor pointed to a hanger on the back of the door. Evan eyed it critically and immediately discarded two of the ties that had gray woven into their patterns but weren’t the right color. He held up a navy option and considered it against the grey of the jacket. Maybe. It could work. 

He rejected a plaid tie as being too cheerful for the tone of his hearing. Debated a blue striped tie but ultimately decided it wouldn’t suit Connor. In the end he held up two options for Connor to consider: A solid navy tie, and a deep blue tie with tiny white stars forming constellations, so small and delicate you had to really focus to make out that they were stars at all. 

“Okay, which one?” Evan asked, holding them out. 

Connor swallowed the last bite of his bagel. “Uh. Maybe… the less dark one?” Connor said, shrugging. “I don’t want to look like I’m going to a fucking funeral, I dunno.”

Evan nodded. “Okay,” He said. “Let’s go with this one.” 

Connor sighed. “I feel stupid.”

“Why?” Evan said, coming to sit beside Connor on his bed. 

“I… It’s sort of. Like. Not fair if we like, win this money or. Whatever,” He said softly. “The hospital didn’t do anything wrong… it was -”

“Hey hey,” Evan said gently, putting his hand on Connor’s shoulder. “We… Neither of us know what, like. Actually happened. And. Trust me. These doctors? They were just. Most of them were just trying to cover their own asses.”

“But…” Connor sighed. “I just feel, like. Wrong about the idea of taking their money. I don’t need it, you know?”

Evan nodded, feeling uncomfortable because… honestly he was sort of depending on the idea of ending up with a little money from this, or else he would owe Larry Murphy for the rest of his life. “Well,” He said at length. “You’re an intelligent and thoughtful person who cares deeply about this community. I’m sure you could find a way to spend the money so that you felt like you were doing good with it.”

Connor nodded. “Yeah. I guess.”

“Okay,” Evan said, checking the time. Seven eighteen. “Is there a car coming to pick you up?”

“Yeah, at ten to eight.”

“Okay then, I’ll get out of your hair then -” Evan started, but Connor said “Hang on.”

“Huh?”

“I haven’t tied a tie since… high school graduation,” Connor said sheepishly. “Can you… do you think you could… help? I’m sure I could find a YouTube tutorial but if it looks weird my dad’ll probably bitch about how I didn’t even try and-”

“Oh,” Evan said, even though he sort of doubted that would happen now. Last year sure. But not now. Larry wouldn’t give a shit about a tie. “Sure.” 

Connor and Evan both stood up and headed toward the mirror. Evan had tied his own tie in this mirror so many times in the past that he had lost count. It was a memory he didn’t like thinking about because it was always the moment before he had to leave Connor for the day. 

He didn’t like thinking about who he had been the last time he’d put on a tie in this bedroom. Broken. Cruel. Callous. 

He didn’t want to be that guy. Never again. That guy was an asshole. 

Evan gently turned up the collar of Connor’s shirt. Something about standing this close to Connor was breaking him a little, was making his fingers shaky, but Evan pressed on. Buttoned the topmost button. Now was not the time for him to be distracted by his racing heart. Connor needed him so he was here. Evan looped the silky blue fabric around Connor’s neck, lifting his hair up slightly as he did and then… Having to take just a second to think about how he was touching Connor’s hair and that he wasn’t allowed to touch Connor’s hair anymore and he really always loved Connor’s hair, the way he wore it long and managed to make it look good no matter how little effort he put into it and. Damn it. Evan blinked a few times and smoothed the collar of Connor’s shirt back down gingerly. He carefully adjusted the tie so that the length was even on both sides and then set about fastening it in a Half-Windsor, looping the wide end around efficiently and tucking it into the knot. 

“Is weird?” Connor said then. “Doing this backward, I mean?” 

Evan considered it. “Not weird. Just different.” 

In college, during debate, Evan sort of became the go-to person for tie help. He had spent endless hours practicing on himself, but after a few awkward times of having to ask the person in question to hand their tie over completely, Evan had made himself learn how to tie a tie on someone else. Just in case. It made it easier, he found, to talk to people if he had done them a favor. 

He couldn’t lie. He had also used it to get into the heads of his competition a few times. Something about being kind and gentle and tying someone’s tie for them moments before you utterly destroyed their argument on the validity of cash bail was exceedingly satisfying. 

Evan pulled on the knot of the tie around Connor’s neck carefully, tightening and adjusting, and then glanced back at the mirror to check the length. 

Good. 

Connor looked good. 

But he was frowning in the mirror. 

“Don’t like it?” Evan asked, feeling like he has messed this up somehow. “Is it too tight? We could try one of the others?”

“It’s not that,” Connor said, sighing. “The tie’s fine. It’s just… I think this might kind of… suck.” 

“Yeah,” Evan said. He chewed his lip, considering his next words carefully. “I already submitted my testimony in writing but I… If you… I mean not that you’d need  _ me _ , obviously, but… I can be there. If it would help. I could like. Translate the legal jargon or something? Sit with you?” What he wanted to say, to offer, was to be there to hold Connor’s hand but… that wasn’t an appropriate thing to say to your best friend. 

Connor sighed. “No, I… you already did your part, and that probably fucking sucked so... you shouldn’t. Thanks, but…” He looked down at the tie, like he was considering it critically. “Plus you have work.”

“I could call in,” Evan said immediately because… part of him just wanted to be there. For Connor. He didn’t want to sit at his desk and check his phone obsessively, he wanted to be by Connor’s side because all of him wanted to be there for Connor. And if Connor wanted him there, Evan would go in a heartbeat. “They’d understand. It’s just a job, Connor. You’re more important anyway.” 

Connor looked… crushed by that for some reason. He sucked in a deep breath. “I’ll be okay.”

Evan nodded, feeling stupid for having said anything. Of course Connor would be okay. He was the strongest fucking person Evan knew. He’d punched a coma in the face. He didn’t need Evan anymore. He had moved on from needing Evan or wanting him. Evan had made it almost impossible for him not to move on. This was his own fault really. He’d been the one to take himself out of the picture. Of course Connor didn’t want to put him back there. “Well. You know. Text me if, like. You need anything.”

“Thanks again for the tie,” Connor said, touching the end of it, a strange look on his face. 

“Any time,” Evan said. He cleared his throat. “Is it weird?” He said suddenly. 

“What?”

“Us. Doing this backward?” Evan said, trying to joke, pointing to his tie-less neck, his casual Friday clothes and Connor’s suit and tie. 

“Just. Uh. Different?” Connor said, his expression unreadable. 

Damn it, Evan was just… making a mess of this. Fucking hell. He looked down at his shoes, awkwardly. “I should go, I know you need to leave soon.”

“Don’t forget your coffee,” Connor said, stopping Evan in his tracks. “Did you get two? Shit I shouldn’t have woken you up-”

“Oh,” Evan said. “Well. I. No. That’s for your mom?” He said, his face heating up. “You’ve had three cups already so you probably don’t need it but I figured it was something I could take off her plate. Since you know. Today is gonna be hard. There’s an everything bagel in the bag too. She likes those.” 

Connor smiled. “Yeah. She does.”

At that moment, Cynthia Murphy opened the bathroom door, fully dressed in a sensible pantsuit, her hair and makeup impeccably styled. Despite the obvious effort made on her appearance, Cynthia looked exhausted. Utterly beat. It reminded Evan of Connor’s stay in the hospital, the way that Cynthia seemed to carry the weight of the situation around in her very bones. Like the sadness, the exhaustion had settled into every fiber of her being, every cell. “Oh,” She said, startled. “Hello Evan.” 

Her tone was a bit cool, but not hostile or unpleasant. Evan had kind of been hoping to sneak out before she saw him. He didn’t know where they stood but last he had heard, Cynthia Murphy hated Evan’s guts. For good reason too. Evan expected her to hate him. He was… he was okay with her hating him. He just… He’d been hoping to avoid making today harder for her. 

“Uh. Hi,” Evan said, his face hot. “I was just going, a-actually. I only came over to-to lend Connor a tie so. Now that I’ve done that, I’m just going to…” He stopped. Swallowed hard. Tried again. “I hope today goes well. I really do. I can’t even imagine how hard this must be.” Evan bit his lip for a moment. “If there’s anything you need, please let me know. I’m happy to pitch in however I can.”

Cynthia, to Evan’s surprise, smiled a little. “Thank you. That’s kind of you to offer.”

Evan nodded. “Oh. Uh. Also, there's a bagel and coffee for you,” He said to Cynthia. “Connor has already had three cups of coffee, so…” Evan cleared his throat and looked at Connor. “I’d wait until after the statement to have more. Too much caffeine will make you jittery and you won’t seem as reliable on the stand if you’re twitchy or your voice shakes.” 

Connor blinked. “Thanks.”

“Okay I should…” Evan said, heading toward the door. “Good luck today. Really. I am hoping for the best for you all. You deserve something good to come out of all of this.”


	151. ONE HUNDRED AND FIFTY

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> “What if it isn’t enough? What if in six months time we’re doing all of this again in a courtroom? What if all of this was for nothing?”

Connor feels out of place in his suit and tie. Like he’s… pretending to be an adult or some shit. It doesn’t feel right. His neck feels weird. Too tight. 

The tie isn’t too tight, of course. Evan’s tied it perfectly. 

He’d worked quickly and efficiently to get it done, which in some ways is just as well because any longer and Connor might have spontaneously combusted, having him so close. 

In other ways, Connor wishes it had gone on for longer. 

Just having that excuse to be close…

_ Stop it, _ he tells himself. 

His mom seems almost as freaked out as Connor is, and Connor’s concerned, genuinely concerned, but he also can’t focus anywhere near enough to try to help, to try to make things better for her.

The car that’s picking them up is picking up Zoe first. 

Hopefully she’ll be in a better space and can maybe try to calm their mom down. 

When the car arrives and Connor and his mom climb in, he takes one look at Zoe and realizes that’s not going to be the case. 

Zoe looks exhausted. Down to the bone tired, like she’s been carrying the weight of the world on her shoulders. It’s not that she looks bad - her makeup is perfect, she’s in slacks and a blazer that make her look every inch the professional and her hair is pulled back into some kind of twist. It’s just the way she’s carrying herself. 

Like she’s holding on tight to something. 

Like she’s holding on by sheer force of will. 

“Your hair looks beautiful like that,” says their mom. 

Zoe almost smiles. “Mariah did my hair and makeup,” she says, something fond in her voice. Her almost-smile falls immediately. “It’s good that she did. My hands were shaking so badly I could barely get dressed.”

“I know what you mean,” their mom admits, and she looks so fucking sad. “It’s… this is hard.”

Connor’s mom reaches out and takes his left hand. 

On his other side, Zoe takes his right. 

Neither of them let go until they’re at their destination. 

From then on, everything happens too slowly and too fast, all at the same time. Connor feels like he’s underwater, like he’s not really here. There’s this strange, otherworldly sensation that follows him around, and it’s a little like taking a bite into aluminum foil. 

But not quite. 

It’s not quite that, it’s not quite… total unreality, it’s not stepping into a bathtub made of ice, it’s not coughing up a razor blade under a streetlight, it’s not watching the love of his life walk off the roof, over and over and over again…

But it’s close. 

It’s fucking close. 

His dad is telling him that it’s going to be okay, that all he needs to do is give his statement. Talk about the impact the coma had on him and his family, the emotional damages. 

Emotional damages. 

Fuck, how do you even quantify emotional damage?

Can a heart be, like, forty-percent broken? Or does it have to be the whole way there?

Zoe speaks first. Connor doesn’t register most of what she’s saying. It just won’t stick in his mind. Her voice is steady and calm and even and he finds himself thinking that she should give TED talks. 

Fuck, that’s weird. 

His mom’s voice is less steady. It trembles, sending vibrations through the air, vibrations that cut holes in him, and with every shake he feels her fear and it just makes the ball of fear in his own chest get bigger and bigger, growing into something that threatens to swallow him whole, to choke him, consume him. 

Then it’s his turn. 

It’s his turn to speak. 

Connor stands up. 

Tries to focus. Keep his voice even. His shoulders squared. 

Tries not to shake, even though every single part of him is cold. 

So fucking cold. 

_ “I can be there. If it would help. I could call in. They’d understand. It’s just a job, Connor. You’re more important anyway.” _

Connor wishes he’d said yes. 

Wishes he’d asked Evan to drop everything and come with him. 

Hold his hand. 

Evan’s hands are almost always warm. 

“I don’t remember a lot of what happened to me,” Connor says, looking at the wall directly behind the hospital’s lawyers. “Most of it’s a blur of… of pain and cold and fear and… and knowing that the people I care about, the people I love most in this world, had been through hell, not knowing whether I’d survive. Thinking that I wouldn’t.” 

He swallows, hard. 

“If the roles had been reversed… if it had been any of those people in my position and I’d been the one left behind, I might not have survived the pain,” he continues, blinking. “The fear. The… the uncertainty, the waiting, the…”

He closes his eyes. 

Opens them again. 

Focuses on the wall. 

And tries to keep going. 

“It took me a really long time to get my strength back,” he says, trying to focus on what his dad had told him to focus on. How it had affected him, how his illness had affected him. “I still… I run a business and I’ve had to step back from a lot of my duties because a lot of the time, I’m still not physically strong enough to do what I need to. I’ve passed out on the store floor more times than I can count now, I had to get an iron infusion just last week, I…”

Connor blinks. 

Blinks again. 

For a moment, he’s back on the roof of Evan’s old apartment building. 

Desperately trying to keep him safe. 

Keep him alive. 

Fuck. 

He can deal with embarrassing fainting spells and iron infusions and always being just a little bit too cold, that’s fine. 

But if Evan had jumped…

He wouldn’t have survived that. 

It would have broken him. 

Connor clears his throat. 

“Like I said, a lot of what I experienced is a blur,” he continues, as evenly as he can. “Details are hard to recall, but I can still see the effects of what happened to me today. Not just in my own body, but in the people around me. The people I care about most. The man I love nearly-”

He stops himself. 

It’s too late, but he stops himself anyway. 

Wipes his face. 

“Sorry,” he mumbles. “Sorry, I tried to prepare this, I honestly did, but there’s no way you can prepare for this. No way I can ever be prepared to talk about what happened to me, I… there’s a part of me that feels like I’m broken? That I’ll always be broken, that even if the scars on my stomach fade and my iron levels even out and I put the weight I lost back on I’ll always be… broken. That what happened… broke something inside me that’s never going to be fixed, destroyed something that I’m never going to get back, and I don’t like to talk about it because I’m so fucking sick of people feeling sorry for me but I just… I know I’m not the same. I’ll  _ never  _ be the same. And I hate that, I hate that so much because I’ve spent so much of my life fighting against my own brain. Fighting against mental illness. And it’s really, really hard that all of a sudden, I’ve got something else to fight against. I’m so… I’m so tired? I’m just… I’m so tired.”

Connor clears his throat. Blinks a few times. 

Tries to keep going.

“I’m fighting so hard to be okay, every day I’m fighting, and I try to… to see the fact that I’m still alive as a gift? And not to squander it? To… to help people that are still going through hell, because I’ve been there and I know what it’s like, it’s just…”

He’s dimly aware that he’s crying. 

Everything feels like it’s happening in slow motion. 

There’s an arm around his waist, a head resting on his shoulders. 

“It’s okay,” says Zoe, her voice so so soft. “It’s okay, you’re okay.”

“Sorry,” Connor says again. “I… fuck, this is a mess, I…” He sighs. “Look, I don’t know how you measure this shi- this stuff, okay? How you measure emotional damage, how you quantify pain and fear. I just know that… the people around me who’ve been by my side throughout all of this? They deserve to be recognized. They deserve… something to help make things easier on them from now on. Because there’s been too much pain. Too much fear. And nothing’s going to make that go away. Nothing’s going to erase that. But there should be something to… to acknowledge that we suffered when we didn’t have to. That things could have been different. For me, for my family, for my… for Evan.” 

He blinks again. 

It’s hard to see. 

“Pain like this… it needs to be acknowledged. That’s… that’s all I have to say.”

* * *

Evan kept checking his phone. 

Larry was giving him updates, tiny progress reports. 

_ “Zoe just spoke. She did very well.” _

_ “Cynthia speaking now.”  _

And finally,  _ “Connor finished his statement. We’ve adjourned for lunch. I will update you when I can.” _

Evan stared at his desk, at the work he had tried to set out to do for himself for the afternoon, his attempts at organization and productivity. 

Fuck this. 

Seriously, fuck this, what the hell was he even doing here? 

He got up from his desk and strode to Natasha’s office. 

“Hey Evan,” She said with a smile. Her dog Chex got up from where he was curled up at her feet to snuffle at Evan’s hand, demand to be fussed over. Evan rubbed the dog’s head, rubbed his ears. “How ya holding up?”

“I…” The lie was right there. He could lie and say he was fine. But Evan wasn’t fine. “Actually, I’m distracted and not getting a lot done. I think I need to take the rest of the day off.” 

Natasha smiled almost sympathetically. “Yeah, one of my best friend’s is on the legal team for the hospital. Rex said it’s been… quite emotional.” She typed something quickly on her desktop and then smiled at him. “And, will you look at that. You’re out sick the rest of the day.”

Evan blinked. “I’m sorry?”

Natasha smiled at him. “You get like…. Twenty five sick days to use before someone complains,” She said. “Go. Be with your people. Nothing here is life or death.”

Evan didn’t need to be told twice. “Thank you,” he said, patting Chex’s head once more, and then he was gone. 

It took almost no time at all for Evan to make his way to the office building where the hearing was taking place. He rode the elevator up to the twenty second floor, stepped out just in time to see Cynthia, Connor, and Zoe all filing back inside. 

Larry was nowhere in sight. 

That… 

Unsure what exactly compelled Evan to do this, he headed down the hall. Toward the men’s room. Evan stepped inside to find Larry Murphy leaned over the sink staring at his reflection in the mirror, eyes unfocused and unseeing. 

He didn’t seem surprised that Evan had turned up. 

“The hospital. They’ll want to settle.” 

Evan nodded. “Without a doubt. It would tank their reputation if it went to trial.”

Larry still wasn’t looking at him. “I’ve…. Pulled every string I can think of. Utilized every potential avenue to prove their incompetence. Put my family through hell… Again, just to prove this point.” He looked almost sick. “What if it isn’t enough? What if in six months time we’re doing all of this again in a courtroom? What if all of this was for nothing?”

Evan took a breath. Let it out. “It could happen,” Evan offered, trying to keep his voice even. “Lawyers can be… blinded by ambition. It’s possible that the people in that room might think they have a loophole they can manipulate or a dirty trick up their sleeve to try to avoid giving you what you’re owed.” He bit his lip. “But I… I don’t think that will happen. You’ve built such a strong case that they will not want this to turn into a public spectacle.”

“We,” Larry said, his tone slightly sharp, like you might use to chastise a child. “We have built a strong case. You and I.”

Evan shook his head. “I really didn’t do anything,” He said. 

Larry gave him a hard look. “I’m very good,” he said after a long moment. “I’m calculated and precise. My arguments are clear, targeted, and backed by evidence. I have over thirty years of experience. More wins than I can properly remember. I rarely get emotionally attached to my cases, and I’ve been told on a number of occasions that I am utterly ruthless. I have an impeccable reputation.” He smiled slightly. “You’re better.”

Evan instantly rejected that thought. “I am really not.”

“You are. You’re invested. Hard working. Built yourself up from nothing, with barely any experience at all, and you’re already better. And it’s entirely hard work and talent.” Larry looked almost annoyed. “All of the precedents I’m relying on, all of the emotional appeals, the history of incompetence of the surgical staff… that was your work. This case would not be in half as decent shape if not for all of the hours you put into it.” Larry shook his head slightly. “If not for the circumstances, you’d probably present better than me too.”

“No,” Evan said, shaking his head hard. “Absolutely not.”

“This is my family,” Larry said, and his voice wavered slightly. “What if I fail them?”

It was a good question to consider, Evan had to admit. There were no guarantees here. No formula where you plugged in emotional damage and immediately saw a pay out (though Evan knew how those damages were calculated did, in fact, rely on a formula). Nothing here was certain. 

But Larry couldn’t begin to doubt himself. Not now. Not today. 

“You won’t fail,” Evan said, his voice even. 

“I might.”

“No,” Evan said, his voice harder, leaving no room to be debated. “You won’t. You can’t.”

Larry looked at Evan for a long moment. 

Splashed water on his face. Dried with a paper towel. Nodded at Evan once and strode out of the bathroom as if he had never been there at all. Evan did not follow him back into the conference room hosting the hearing. Instead, he sunk into a chair outside, pulled out his phone and texted Connor.  _ “Today is about you and your family, and I don’t want to intrude. But I’m here. I’m right outside if you need me, okay? I’m here.” _

And then he waited. 


	152. ONE HUNDRED AND FIFTY-ONE

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> “You don’t have to be okay right now. I’ve got you.” 

Connor knows they ate lunch, but doesn’t remember what he ate. 

Where they went. What they talked about. 

If they talked at all. 

He has vague memories of his dad’s pale face, his mom crying, Zoe staring into a plate, people asking a whole bunch of questions, and just… floating around. 

He doesn’t even remember going back into the conference room, but there he is, sitting in a chair that’s less comfortable than it looks, listening to his dad talk, his voice even and sure. 

Confident. 

Steady. 

Connor wishes he could be more like his dad right now. 

Right now he feels like he’s barely even here. 

He has this strange sensation of being outside his body, and he feels sick as he remembers what it felt like to watch himself in a coma, watch Evan hold his hand and sob silently as Connor raged and fought to get back where he belonged, to make Evan see him, somehow. 

He remembers how it felt to float in that sensory deprivation tank, drugged up to his eyeballs. 

It’s a little bit like this. 

A little bit like he feels right now. 

Maybe his dad talks for ten minutes. Maybe for ten hours. 

Connor doesn’t know. 

He’s dimly aware of some kind of movement, some kind of change, and he looks up to find that it’s just his family in the room. The hospital lawyers are gone. 

Zoe squeezes his hand and it helps, a little. Helps him feel more like he’s really there. 

“Dad’s finished presenting,” she says quietly. “The hospital lawyers are discussing. Dad’s pretty sure they’ll settle.”

Connor blinks. Squeezes Zoe’s hand back. “So we wait?” 

Zoe nods. “We wait.”

Connor nods back. He blinks a few times, trying to clear his head, break through the fog, come back to himself. 

Trying to focus. 

Just fucking focus. 

This settlement… it’s important. It’s important for Evan, so he can pay Connor’s dad back for the cost of his treatment, because Evan’s never going to let someone else foot the bill, even though Connor would dip into his trust fund to pay for it himself in a heartbeat if he thought Evan would let him, but why would Evan let him? Connor’s not anyone to him anymore, not really, they’re just friends just friends just friends it never hurt to be just friends before, why does it hurt now? 

If Connor hadn’t gotten sick, Evan would still love him. 

If Connor hadn’t gotten sick, everything would be different, he wouldn’t be here now.

Fuck, what if he’d just noticed he wasn’t well before he got himself hospitalized, what if he’d just gone to the doctor, what if he’d gone to another hospital, what if what if what if what if…

If things were different, if he hadn’t fucked everything up, then maybe Evan would be holding his hand now. 

This would all be so much easier if Evan was holding his hand.

He’d… he’d know that it was real. 

Know that  _ he  _ was real. 

Connor feels dizzy, fragmented, like he could split off into a thousand pieces any moment, like he could find himself in infinite universes, scattered across time and space and… what was that about time and space? In that TV show Evan and Otis like? Time and relative dimensions in space, another dimension, another… fuck, if he had a time machine he’d go back and stop himself from sleeping with Parker, he’d make his younger self go to the fucking doctor the minute he felt stomach pain and his appendix wouldn’t have burst and he wouldn’t have ended up in a fucking coma and he wouldn’t have lost Evan, Evan wouldn’t have suffered-

The door opens, and the hospital lawyers file back in. 

Everything feels hazy and out of reach, and all Connor can hear is a high pitched noise, like reality is screaming, and it’s like he’s on the edge of something, like time is slowing down, it feels like the seconds before getting hit by a bus with Alana Beck’s face on it, those split seconds when you know something big is going to happen but the wheels are set in motion and there’s no stopping them, no matter how hard you try. 

You just can’t stop it. 

Then everything rushes back and Connor can hear everything, but nothing makes sense. His mother is crying and his sister is pulling him into a hug and his dad has this look on his face that Connor doesn’t know, doesn’t understand, and the hospital lawyers leave and Connor looks around, utterly lost. 

“What happened?” he asks, hating how his voice trembles. 

“The hospital settled,” says Zoe, holding onto him tightly, so tightly it almost hurts to breathe. “It’s over. We won.”

***

The conference room door swung open and a number of people in suits filed out, among them Rex Sugarman, who Evan knew tangentially. 

They looked unhappy, but then again, lawyers weren’t known for their big smiles. 

They were deliberating. 

Most likely, Evan thought, they had already decided what they would do. This was a stalling tactic. A moment to run the numbers one last time, convince themselves their decision was the right one. 

If the hospital didn’t agree to the settlement, Evan…

He dreaded to think what might happen if they didn’t. 

The deliberation period was genuinely just for show. Evan knew that. But it didn’t stop him from anxiously pacing, from biting his fingernails to bleeding, from checking his phone every few seconds to see if he had a text from Connor or Larry or… anything. 

His heart nearly leapt out of his chest when he got a promotional email from The Gap about a sale on jeans. 

Fuck he was so tense. 

After an agonizing fifteen minutes, the suits trooped back into the conference room. Evan pressed a kleenex to his bleeding ring finger and held his breath. It wouldn’t be long now. 

It wouldn’t be long. 

And then… at least they’d know. One way or another. 

Evan really fucking wished he had insisted he go with Connor today. He really wished he was there. He couldn’t even imagine how Connor might be feeling, he had been so nervous this morning, so pale and scared and all Evan wanted was to be there for him. To hold his hand, give him something to grab onto, something… 

But obviously Connor didn’t want that. 

Evan had offered. 

Connor had turned him down. 

And it was fine, really. Evan just wanted to be whatever Connor needed him to be. 

He just wished, a little, for himself, that he had been able to hold Connor’s hand. 

The door opened again. Evan’s heart leapt into his throat. He could feel his pulse in his eyeballs, he could feel his hands growing clammy and cold. The lawyers filed out. They didn’t look pleased. 

He watched the door anxiously. 

For a sign. Any indicator. 

Did they settle? 

Had they settled?

Cynthia and Zoe were the first to step out of the room. 

Cynthia’s face was red and she was sobbing, almost helplessly. Zoe had an arm around her. 

Fuck. 

No. 

They…

Evan couldn’t breathe, he couldn’t breathe, those bastards, those fuckers, those assholes -

Larry and Connor exited next. 

Larry… he looked relieved. His face was still pale, his eyes a little red, but he was smiling, his posture had relaxed. He looked about ten years younger than he had in the bathroom earlier. 

Fuck, what did that mean?

Connor, however, looked… lost. 

Not present. 

His eyes were dull. Unfocused. He was walking like he wasn’t there, like he was a ghost, like was half asleep or dreaming and. 

Evan understood that look. He felt it all the damn time. 

It was taking everything, every ounce of willpower in him, not to march up to Connor and Larry and demand to know what had happened in that room. 

Evan felt himself trying to will Connor to look at him, desperate for their eyes to connect at the very least, terrified that somehow Connor not seeing him meant he had slipped through another crack, that he had disappeared or Connor had disappeared into the strangely woven fabric of reality. 

“Come on, Connor, look at me,” Evan mumbled, his heart pounding too hard, his eyes stinging, “Please look at me.”

And then Larry noticed Evan, standing in the lobby still. He said something to Zoe that Evan didn’t hear, and she and Cynthia continued off toward the elevator. Connor kept walking, as if he was unaware of the conversation happening around him, and then Larry gently gripped Connor’s arm, stopping him in his tracks. Larry pointed toward Evan. 

Connor’s eyes flashed with… something, but they still looked.

Dull. 

Dead. 

Nothing behind them. 

Evan swallowed hard, his feet starting to move toward Connor, fighting hard against the instinct to just run at him and wrap Connor up in his arms, fighting hard against his need to check to see if Connor was okay. 

Up close, Connor looked…

Wrecked. 

Exhausted. 

Small, almost. 

“H-hey,” Evan said softly. 

Connor blinked slowly, like it was a struggle to focus. 

“How did it… I mean. W-what happened?” Evan asked, looking from Connor to Larry helplessly. 

“They settled,” Larry said, giving Evan this triumphant smile. 

“They did?” Evan said, feeling… winded and strange and a little like his bones had been replaced with marshmallows. 

Larry nodded. 

“We won,” Connor said, his voice distant, his eyes still half there. 

“You did,” Evan felt overcome with some… large emotion that he couldn’t quite identify. All he knew was that it felt like his heart might pop or his head might fall off or his hands might shake their way off of his body. He had no idea what to do with himself. 

So he looked at Connor. Dim, vacant expression, wearing a suit and tie, looking like someone he wasn’t. Not really. Evan… hated it. He hated it. “Are you…” He bit his lip. “Can I, like, give you a hug or something?” Evan asked, his voice rough, his arms opening ever so slightly. 

Connor didn’t speak. He just walked into Evan’s arms, and Evan hugged him tightly, trying desperately to… help, somehow. Larry took a few steps away, as if he wanted to give them… space. Privacy. 

Connor didn’t pull away from the hug, but he kept his arms wrapped loosely around Evan’s shoulders, like he wasn’t really there, and Evan… just held on. Rubbed Connor’s back a few times. Connor’s hair smelled the same and being this close made Evan’s chest ache. Connor let out a soft breath, and Evan scratched his nails gently along Connor’s spine. Tried to do whatever he could to ground him, help him to bring the world back into focus. “Are you okay?” he asked softly. 

Connor didn’t immediately respond, just sagged a little bit against Evan. “I… don’t know,” Connor said back, his voice just as quiet, and then he pulled away without letting go. He was holding back, Evan realized. He wasn’t hugging Evan tightly, he wasn’t talking, he… Connor wasn’t really there. He wasn’t okay and Evan fucking knew it. 

Evan just held on tighter, just for a moment, giving Connor a tight tight squeeze and then Evan let go. He wiped his eyes, looking at Connor hard. Trying to decipher what he needed, trying to figure out what Evan could do for him. 

And then he reached out for Connor’s hand. Took it in his own hand, and squeezed tightly. “It’s okay… if you’re not okay,” Evan said softly. “You don’t have to be okay right now. I’ve got you.” 

Connor blinked a few times, shaking his head like he was trying to focus, like he was trying to come back to himself. “You’re here,” he said softly. 

Evan nodded. “I… I didn’t want to intrude. But. Yeah. Of course I’m here.”

Connor gave Evan’s hand the smallest squeeze back. 

And then he let go. Turned back to his father. 

Evan thought he might have genuinely heard the moment his heart broke.


	153. ONE HUNDRED AND FIFTY-TWO

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> “Maybe some things are inevitable.”

The day continues like someone’s pushed fast-forward on an old VCR tape, stopping occasionally to figure out where it’s up to. Connor remembers getting into a car, but he doesn’t remember getting out. He remembers unlocking the door to his apartment, but he doesn’t remember walking up the stairs. 

And then he’s waking up in his bedroom, still wearing his suit pants and shirt, and he feels almost hungover, a little disoriented, but… more like a person. 

He thinks he remembers Evan’s arms around him, Evan’s hand in his, but that can’t be right because Evan was at work, Evan went to work because Connor was too afraid to ask him to stay even though that’s all he wants, that’s all he’s ever wanted. 

He has to be imagining it. 

Willing it into existence because he just wants it so, so fucking badly. 

Edgar’s curled up on the other pillow, his little face right by Connor’s face. When he notices that Connor’s awake, he meows a little then rubs his face on Connor’s cheek, giving him little kitty kisses. 

Connor immediately feels better. 

Edgar always makes him feel better. 

Connor lets himself just lay there for a while, enjoying Edgar’s soft fur on his skin, then rolls over and gets out of bed. The shirt he’s wearing is wrinkled, as are his suit pants, and somewhere along the line, he’s taken off his tie. 

Evan’s tie. 

It’s on the dresser, hanging off a little, and Edgar seems to notice it at the same time as Connor. He immediately perks up and goes to bat it with his paw. Connor reaches out and takes it off him, to Edgar’s clear disapproval. 

“No,” Connor says warningly to his cat. “That’s Evan’s. We need to give it back to him in one piece, okay?”

Edgar tilts his head in this gesture that makes Connor oddly convinced, just for a moment, that the cat understands him and is genuinely questioning this request, given that Connor absolutely gave Edgar the blue tie that went with this suit to play with after Evan left. 

He thought it might make him feel better, to see Edgar tear the tie to pieces with his claws. 

It didn’t. Not really. 

Connor stares into his closet for a moment, then gets changed into a pair of jeans and a short-sleeved shirt. Throws a blazer on. Looks at his reflection in the mirror. 

Fuck. 

He feels like a dead man walking.

He needs… something. 

He doesn’t know. 

Connor heads out of his bedroom and into the kitchen to find his dad sitting at the kitchen table, doing something on his laptop. It’s entirely unexpected and it takes him a moment to realize that this is actually real, that his dad is actually here. 

His dad looks tired, but… relieved. Like a weight has been taken off his shoulders. 

He smiles at Connor when he sees him. 

“How are you feeling?” he asks, something cautious in his tone. 

“Okay,” Connor says, for lack of anything else to say. He sits across the table from his dad. Mere seconds after he’s settled, Edgar is climbing up his body and settling on his shoulder, purring happily. 

Connor’s dad’s smile widens, just a little, and his eyes are fond. “That cat loves you,” he says, almost casually. 

Connor can’t help but smile at that. “Yeah. He’s… he’s a good cat.”

Larry’s smile droops a little. “Maybe we should have brought him with us to the settlement hearing,” he says, in this light tone that doesn’t quite land as a joke. “Might have helped.”

Connor can’t disagree. It probably would have helped. 

Connor’s dad sighs. Looks at him, this strange expression on his face. 

“I am truly sorry,” he says, slowly, “that you had to relive what happened to you. It… I think it made the difference, hearing from you and your sister and your mother, but I know it was painful and I am truly, truly sorry for that.”

Connor’s quiet for a moment, then he finds his voice. 

“Like you said,” he begins, his voice equally slow, “it’s what made the difference. It… it needed to happen.” 

He closes his eyes. 

Opens them again. 

His dad looks so, so sad. 

“What time is it?” Connor asks, genuinely not sure.

His dad looks at his watch. “Nearly five,” he says. He looks back at Connor. “Zoe texted me. Your mom went home with her to get some rest but she and Zoe are up now. They suggested that maybe the four of us all go get dinner tonight.” Larry bites his lip. “I don’t want to push, but if you’re up for it, it could be nice.” His face twists into a sardonic smile. “I think we could all use a drink.”

“Okay,” Connor says, because there’s no real reason to say no and… honestly, at this point, he’s having a hard time making any kind of decision, so he’ll just do whatever he’s told. 

It’s decided that they’ll have dinner at the restaurant at the hotel Larry’s staying at. Connor and Larry head down the stairs and through the bookstore to grab a cab across down, only to find all three of the bookstore kids waiting for them. 

Maureen is the first to pull Connor into a tight hug. “Are you okay?” she asks, something urgent in her voice. “Neither of you said anything when you got back and we didn’t want to intrude.”

“The hospital settled,” says Connor’s dad, and both Leslie and Jax let out sighs of relief. Maureen lets go, only for Leslie to take her place, and even Jax, who’s not always the most physically affectionate toward Connor, pulls him into a tight hug. 

“If there’s anything you need,” they say fiercely, “you tell us. We’ve got you.”

_ “It’s okay if you’re not okay. You don’t have to be okay right now. I’ve got you.” _

Connor blinks, trying not to cry. 

Soon they’re in a cab to the hotel. Connor feels like he’s in some kind of dream as he and his dad head into the hotel and toward the bar, where his dad orders both of them a glass of the 25-year-old Chivas. 

He remembers being in a hotel bar like this with his dad, over two years ago. 

He remembers how small and insignificant his dad made him feel. 

How he felt like he and his dad were… in opposition. Against each other. 

It feels good to know his dad is on his team now. 

“If everyone is free tomorrow night,” his dad says when their drinks are delivered, “I was thinking you and I could have dinner with Evan. Take the time to properly thank him for all his hard work.” 

Connor blinks. “Okay,” he says, a little lost, because this is… still kind of weird. 

He knows that there’s some kind of truce or agreement between Evan and his dad these days, but he doesn’t know the details. In some ways, he’s glad for it, but in other ways…

Well, Evan’s dad hates Connor, which doesn’t seem fair. 

He guesses it makes sense, though. 

Evan is… closer to what Larry hoped Connor would be. 

So much closer. 

His dad smiles a little awkwardly. “I think it’s best if it’s just the three of us,” he says, something matter-of-fact in his tone. “Your mom and sister… we don’t exactly see eye-to-eye about the whole Evan situation.” He takes a sip of his drink then continues. “Although I think that both of them can see how much work he’s put into the case. Can see that it’s what made the difference.” Something sad flashes across Larry’s face. “I don’t know if I could have done it without him.”

“He really helped that much?” Connor asks, hating how small his voice sounds. 

His dad nods. Looks pained. “Yes. He really did.”

Once again, dinner with his family is much easier than expected. It’s not exactly a celebratory experience, but it’s nice to have everyone together, in a way that it was never nice before. 

His mom tried when he was a kid. She really tried to make them feel like a family, forced them together for meals and the occasional outing, but nothing ever really worked. Connor remembers being angry all the fucking time, taking it out on everyone around him, and his mother trying her hardest to act like everything was fine, like everything was normal. 

It was worse for Zoe, Connor thinks.

Always worse for her as the kid who wasn’t noticed, the good kid they didn’t have to worry about how got looked over, the one who bore the brunt of Connor’s anger. 

He’s surprised she still even fucking talks to him after everything he put her through. 

Not just when they were kids. 

Recently. 

Fuck, why didn’t he talk to her about the power of attorney thing? He should have talked to her about it, the minute Evan finished writing up his will. 

Fuck. 

The food at this hotel restaurant is actually pretty good, Connor is glad to note. It’s not way too fancy and overly pretentious like a lot of the places he’s been with his dad in the past. The conversation is light, deliberately so, and when they’ve all finished eating the main, everyone agrees on getting dessert. Connor thinks it’s less because they’re hungry and more because no one really wants to let the others out of their sight just yet. 

He and Zoe share a ridiculously good chocolate mousse cake and good-naturedly argue about who should have the last bite. 

“You love chocolate,” Connor points out. “You should have it.”

Zoe shakes her head. “No, you have it.”

“Seriously, you have it. You’ve had a rough day.”

Zoe raises her eyebrows. “Seriously? We’ve all had a rough day, but you most of all. Eat the damn cake, Connor.”

“We can split it in half,” Connor offers. 

From across the table, their mom laughs. When they look over at her, she’s smiling, this fond expression on her face, and so is their dad. 

“You were nowhere near this good at sharing when you were kids,” says Larry with a smile. “Glad to see you finally figured it out.”

“Only took twenty nine years,” says Connor, and Zoe rolls her eyes but smiles anyway. 

They all get up to leave. Connor’s about to tell his mom he’ll order a Lyft when she turns away from where she’s talking to his dad, her cheeks pink. 

“Your father and I need to have a quick chat about something,” she says, a little awkwardly. “So we’re going to head back over to the bar. I’ll see you back at the bookstore, if that’s alright?”

“You’ve still got your keys for my place, right?” Connor asks. His mom nods. “Okay. I’m probably going to crash, so… just let yourself in. You know the alarm code?”

“I know the alarm code,” his mom assures him. She pulls him into a tight hug and kisses him on the cheek. “Let me give you some money for a cab home.”

“I got it,” he replies immediately.

“Indulge me,” she says, opening her wallet and giving both him and Zoe a $50 bill each. Neither of them manage to convince her to take it back. 

There’s a round of hugs that goes on longer than usual. They’re tight, almost desperate hugs, the kind of hug that warms you through but makes you ache, somehow. It’s like all four of them need to reassure each other that they’ve made it through, that they’re here and alive and have survived the day. Zoe and Connor head out of the building to where there are taxis waiting. 

“We could just split one,” Zoe says. “And then you could slip the change into Mom’s bag when you get home.”

“Good plan,” Connor agrees, and they both pile into a cab. 

The city zips past. 

Neither of them seem to know what to say. 

“What do you think they’re talking about?” Connor asks about halfway home. 

Zoe rolls her eyes. “They’re probably just… ugh, it’s just an excuse for them to hang out. They’ve been all over each other the last year, it’s… kind of ridiculous.”

Connor blinks. “It’s nice they’re getting along, I guess?”

Zoe just stares at him for a moment. “Connor. They’re totally boning.”

Connor sighs. “Again? Or still?”

“I have no fucking idea.”

The taxi driver, mercifully, has nothing to add to the conversation. 

“Do you think they’ll get back together?” Connor asks, a little hesitantly. “I mean… they obviously still love each other. And they’re… there’s still something there, it’s obvious. To anyone with eyes.”

“I don’t know,” Zoe says, and Connor recalls a previous conversation about this very thing. “I…” She sighs. “Dad is… different now. I know he is. He’s trying with you, and he never did that before.” She smiles a little. “He calls at least once a week now. He never used to do that.”

“He calls me, too,” says Connor. “Texts a lot. We’ve met up a bunch of times when he’s been in the city.”

“So have we,” Zoe says. She sighs again. Tucks a loose strand of hair behind her ear. “I… I want to believe that he’s different now. I really do. I just… he really hurt me, and you, and Mom, and he just didn’t acknowledge it for the longest time, he was just a total asshole and he…” She lets out a breath in a rush of air. “It shouldn’t have taken you nearly dying to realize he should start taking his family seriously.”

“Yeah, well,” Connor says, trying for a joking tone, “the whole ‘nearly dying’ thing had some weird fucking effects on a lot of people.”

Zoe looks devastated at that. She leans her head on Connor’s shoulder. 

“Thanks for not dying, by the way. Definitely appreciate it.”

“Me too,” says Connor, and he means it. 

They get out of the cab and stand outside the bookstore for a moment. Zoe lives nearby these days, barely three blocks away. 

“If Mom and Dad got back together,” Zoe says, her tone cautious, “it wouldn’t be the worst thing in the world.”

“You think?” asks Connor, a little surprised. “Last time we talked about this, you didn’t seem so convinced.”

Zoe shrugs. Tucks her hair behind her air again. “Maybe some things are… inevitable. I don’t know. I really don't.”

With that, she pulls him into a tight hug, kisses him on the cheek and says goodnight. 

Connor lets himself into the bookstore, disarms and rearms the alarm, then heads up to his apartment. Edgar climbs up onto his shoulder and stays there as he brushes his teeth and takes his meds, only moving briefly to allow Connor to change into a t-shirt for sleeping. 

He goes to plug in his phone automatically and sees there’s an unread message.

**Today is about you and your family, and I don’t want to intrude. But I’m here. I’m right outside if you need me, okay? I’m here.**

It was sent just after lunch, Connor realizes with a pang in his chest. 

Evan was there. 

He was there. 

Connor didn’t imagine it. Didn’t make it up because he wanted it to be true so badly. 

Something twists inside him. 

With shaking hands, he manages to type out a reply. 

**Thank you for being there today. It means a lot.**

He puts down the phone, lays his head on his pillow and is asleep in minutes. 


	154. ONE HUNDRED AND FIFTY-THREE

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> “Apparently you just won me fifteen million dollars so I think that means I can afford to have another drink.”

Connor wakes up the next morning feeling a little bit more like a human being. He has a shower and gets changed, then feeds Edgar, then makes some coffee and sits at the kitchen table. 

He’s a little surprised to hear the key in the front door lock. 

His surprise turns into full on amusement when his mom walks through the door, wearing the same outfit she was wearing the night before, her cheeks pink. 

“And where have you been, young lady?” he says immediately, completely unable to let this opportunity pass him by. “It’s past curfew and I’ve been worried sick!”

His mom’s face goes bright red. She just kind of stares at him for a moment, then sighs and sits down at the kitchen table. 

“Is there more coffee?” she asks, and Connor gets up to get her a cup, then passes her the pot. 

He watches in amusement as she goes about filling her cup, adding milk and sugar, then basically stares her down until she finally sighs and looks at him properly. 

“Okay, fine,” she says, sighing. “Your father and I got talking and by the time we realized how late it was, it made more sense for me to stay over in his hotel room rather than get a cab home in the middle of the night.”

“Did he at least make you breakfast?” Connor teases. 

His mom actually laughs at that. “You know your father doesn’t cook.”

“Did he buy you breakfast at the hotel, then?”

His mom smiles a little. “No,” she says. “He offered, but I figured I’d better come back here and make you sure you were okay.”

Connor laughs weakly. “Mom, I’m fine. I’m thirty years old, I don’t need babysitting.”

His mom’s smile drops. She looks at him, something so sad in her eyes. “You’re not fine, sweetheart. What you said at the settlement hearing yesterday… you’re not fine.”

Connor feels cold. 

“I want to be fine,” he says quietly. “I… I want this all to be over. Not to have to think about what happened anymore.” 

His mom reaches out and squeezes his hand. “I know, darling. I really do. This hasn’t been easy on you.”

“On any of us,” Connor says immediately. He shakes his head in frustration. “It’s… it’s not just me, and I… I hate that I can’t focus on anything except how I feel right now, that I can’t… I’m not…” He sighs. “It’s not just me.”

His mom squeezes his hand again. “You have such a big heart, Connor. But right now? You’re allowed to be a little selfish. You don’t have to worry about supporting everyone around you. We’re here to support you. To look after you.”

“It didn’t just happen to me-”

“No,” his mom interrupts, “but none of us know what it was like for you.” She frowns a little. “Your dad and Zoe and I, we all have similar experiences. We can relate. But what happened to you? It’s not the same. It’s… it’s yours, and only yours, and I hate that. The idea that you’re carrying something all by yourself. That there’s only so much we can do to help you carry it.”

Connor closes his eyes briefly. 

He thinks back to the other universe, where he fought and fought to get back. 

How he voluntarily got drugged and electrocuted. 

Stepped into a bathtub full of ice and had his heart stop. 

He can’t talk to anyone about this. 

Anyone who’d really understand. 

Except Evan. 

Evan is the only one who understands just how fucked up things were, just how fucked up it all was, and when Connor told him…

He left. 

He left. 

“What’s going on with you and Dad?” Connor asks, wanting to change the subject. 

His mom’s eyes widen, like a deer in the headlights. 

“We’ve always been close,” she says evenly. “We’ve been careful to make sure we stay friends ever since we divorced. For you kids, and for each other. We’re friends.”

Connor doesn’t let up. “Mom, I know you guys are having sex.”

His mom nearly spits out her coffee. It takes her a moment to swallow, then collect herself, but when she does, there’s something almost challenging in her eyes, even though her voice is teasing. 

“They call it friends with benefits, don’t they?”

“He hurt you,” Connor says, almost desperately. “He hurt you, but he… he knows, right? He knows that he hurt you and he’s trying to do better?”

His mom keeps looking at him. “Yes.”

Connor swallows. “Is that enough?” 

His mom sighs. “I don’t know, sweetheart.” 

* * *

Evan changed clothes four times before he managed to get out the door to meet Larry and Connor at the restaurant where they would all be having dinner. Evan had anxiously spent two hours pouring over the website and the Yelp page to try to determine what sort of dress code would be appropriate. He had put on and taken off a tie several times before deciding he would be better going without because most of the photos online did feature people in jeans. 

A suit would likely be too formal, and most of Evan’s jeans were slightly baggy and threadbare these days… So those were all out. He fretted for a while before finally ending up in a dark blue button down and a nice pair of grey pants, figuring it struck a decent balance between casual and formal. He had no idea what the agenda behind this dinner was but he had spent most of the night before up worrying himself sick about Connor, so he leapt at the opportunity to see him in person. 

The restaurant was some Mexican place Evan had never been to before, slightly more expensive than a place he would have picked himself, but there were a lot of vegetarian and kosher options. Evan arrived early and found himself loitering outside, checking his phone, unsure if there was a reservation he ought to be asking after or if he should request a table for three and what if he did ask for a table for three and Cynthia or Zoe or both ended up joining them, what if this was actually some kind of ambush to tell him, like, thanks for helping with the lawsuit but fuck off now, what if Connor didn’t want to see him ever again what if he still had that vacant look in his eyes from yesterday afternoon what if he wasn’t okay -

Evan took a breath, trying to interrupt that line of thinking.  _ Thanks for the help there brain, but I’ve got this,  _ He told himself sternly. Anxiety and fear like this were just his brain’s haywire way of trying to protect him, but he didn’t have to let them run the show. 

Or so he and Oliver kept practicing. 

Who knew anymore?

Before long, Larry arrived, stepping out of a taxi while looking at his phone and smiling broadly. A big smile that reshaped his whole face, made him look younger, softer… and a bit like Connor. It made his ears stick out a little. 

Larry was in a suit, but no tie, which Evan thought was… a little strange to see. Larry Murphy was a man who wore ties. He was a man who wore ties religiously. Evan still half expected Larry’s head to come toppling off of his shoulders at any moment without the support of a tie. 

“Ah, good, you’re here,” Larry said, greeting Evan with a handshake. “We’re just waiting on Connor then.”

Evan smiled and nodded at him. 

“I did check to make sure there were kosher options,” Larry said, nodding to himself. “Connor tells me you’re still keeping kosher these days.”

Evan nodded. “Yes, sir.”

Larry gave him a look. “I think, considering these past few months, that you and I are on first name terms now. Wouldn’t you agree?”

Evan bit back the “yes sir” sitting on the tip of his tongue. He defaulted to politeness when he was uncomfortable. He didn’t know how to interact with Larry now that there wasn’t work to be done but. Larry had a point. So he nodded. Larry perused the sign up front regarding specialty cocktails and tequila flights, and Evan wondered again just what he was doing here. 

Connor turned up before long, looking unfairly gorgeous in that blazer Evan loved so much. “Hi,” He said, greeting his dad with a hug. He looked tired. Evan felt the worry inside him flicker from an ember into a flame. Connor seemed… exhausted. Like he was sagging against the weight of holding himself up. 

Evan hated it. 

The hostess guided them to a table before Evan could open his mouth and ask how Connor had been doing since yesterday. 

“I think we could all use a drink,” Larry said with a smile when their waitress came by the table. “Margaritas sound alright...?” He asked Connor and Evan. He had trailed off, as if he wanted to call them “boys” and stopped himself short. 

“Yes,” Connor answered immediately. 

“I’m not drinking, thank you,” Evan said quietly. “Just water is good for me,” he said to the waitress. “Thanks.” 

“A pitcher would be good,” Connor said to his dad, something off about his voice. Like he  _ needed  _ a drink. 

Larry looked at Evan for a brief moment, as if to see if he might object, but then he agreed. “Why not? We can afford to live a little.” The waitress nodded and hurried off. 

Connor was frowning at the menu slightly. “Are you going to be able to eat anything here?” He said to Evan, his tone a little pointed, a little sharp. 

“Oh, I -“

“They have plenty of vegetarian and kosher options,” Larry said in this somewhat mollifying way. “I checked before I made our reservation.”

Connor gave his father a hard look. Nodded curtly. 

Evan had the distinct feeling that somehow he had done something to offend Connor. Done something wrong, though he wasn’t sure what. Connor had complained in the past about Larry’s lack of attention to dietary restrictions; a story about Zoe going vegetarian and Larry taking them to a steakhouse for Christmas in college coming to the top of Evan’s mind. Zoe had gotten stuck with a measly salad of slightly wilted spinach and arugula and a baked potato. Larry was making an effort. Paying attention. Wasn’t that better? 

Evan sipped his water. He wondered if this was just him being paranoid or if Connor actually seemed angry. He cleared his throat, twisting his cloth napkin in his lap. “How’s everyone at the store?” He asked. “Did you talk to them yet about the settlement?”

Connor frowned. “Not in detail. I just said we like. Won or whatever. Honestly yesterday is kind of a blur.”

Larry nodded, clicking his tongue sympathetically. Their waitress returned with a large pitcher of margaritas for Larry and Connor and a glass of ice water for Evan. The table went uncomfortably quiet while she poured their drinks. “Are you ready to order?” She asked them. 

Evan ordered vegetarian tacos. Larry steak fajitas. And Connor opted for a burrito that seemed to genuinely have bacon in it. 

Okay. 

That was. 

Okay. 

Once the waitress was finished, Larry cleared his throat, holding his glass up in a toast. “I think we should toast. To Connor’s recovery. To Evan’s hard work on the settlement agreement, and to being able to move forward.” 

Connor eyed Evan oddly as they clicked their glasses together. Salt got on the rim of Evan’s glass of water but he didn’t complain. “Exactly how much work did you do on the lawsuit?” He asked Evan. 

“Not much,” Evan insisted because really, it was nothing. It was all Larry. “I found some precedents for similar settlement amounts and did some research on… on pay outs for emotional pain and suffering. And I submitted a written statement. It was nothing-”

Larry didn’t look impressed. “No need for the false modesty. Your work was essential. Hell, there were points yesterday where I wondered if you might have done a better job arguing it.”

Evan’s face heated up. 

Connor downed his drink. He looked at his dad. “So like. What exactly did we win?”

Larry smiled, a bit triumphant. “Well, you’ll be awarded the bulk obviously.”

Connor raised his eyebrows. 

“Weren’t you listening yesterday?” Larry asked, and Evan doubted he meant it to come across quite so much like he was admonishing him. 

“Had other things on my mind, funny enough,” Connor mumbled. 

Larry’s face paled. “The grand total is just over thirty million dollars.”

Evan felt like his ears were ringing. Wow. That was. Massive. Especially without a trial. He felt himself smiling because that was… a life-changing amount of money. Genuinely Connor could, like, buy an island if he wanted. Connor looked surprised, his mouth hanging slightly open. 

“What?”

Larry continued. “You’ll be receiving just under fifteen,” he said to Connor. “Your mother, Zoe, and I will get five a piece for emotional damages. And uh.” He paused as if he could hear Evan’s mind trying to calculate the math. “Evan’s been awarded $750,000.”

“What?” Evan said, knowing his eyes had gone huge. “No I. I submitted the total for my… treatment and lost wages, that. That is too much. Far too much.”

“Trust me, it’s not,” Larry said smoothly. “Frankly it should be more but I figured you wouldn’t be interested in taking this to trial on your behalf.”

“I can’t take that,” Evan said to Larry. He looked at Connor. “I don’t want that. You should have it.”

Connor was polishing off a second margarita. “What would I need it for?”

“I - but-  _ no _ . That’s too much. You should take it. Split it between the four of you, I didn’t. I don’t. I…”

$750,000. 

After treatment and lost wages it was still like. $700,000. 

That. 

No. Evan could not take that money. He didn’t deserve it. He’d left. People who leave don’t get life-changing amounts of money. It was blood money, he didn’t want it. He couldn’t take it. 

… If he had that kind of money he could pay back all of his debts. Pay off his mom’s mortgage. Find a better apartment. 

No. No way. 

He couldn’t. 

He wouldn’t. 

“I… that wasn’t what we agreed to,” he said to Larry, still bewildered. 

Larry sipped his drink. “It should have been more.”

Their food arrived. Evan felt his stomach tying itself into knots, but he forced himself to eat so he wouldn’t be expected to talk. 

“How are you finding the nonprofit world?” Larry asked after a few bites. 

“I like it,” Evan said after he swallowed. “I… honestly I love it? I’ve been helping with this policy recently, and it’s been kind of… fun? Working out the kinks?”

Connor’s face softened a little at that. “What’s the policy?”

Evan explained it was about subsidies and ride share applications, and how the goal was to encourage both rideshare drivers and passengers to utilize carpooling options as part of a pilot to help reduce carbon emissions. He got on a bit of a roll, talking about the ways his firm was negotiating with Lyft and Uber and how there was potential for launching a viral marketing campaign and. He’d been talking for a while. “Sorry,” Evan said, embarrassed. “Sorry that’s probably really boring.” 

“No,” Larry insisted. “It’s always good to see someone who is invested in their work.” He smiled at Connor brightly. “I’ve been meaning to ask if you’re finding that curry is a good alternative for Soup Day. Have people been coming?”

Connor nodded. “Yeah. Though we’re going to need to get another water pitcher at the rate we’re going. One just doesn’t seem to be enough.”

“You could install a water fountain?” Evan suggested. Connor just gained fifteen million dollars. “One with a dispenser for bottles as well? Your water bill would increase but then at least there’s no heavy bottles or a need for refills during the course of the day. And it would be useful to have even for regular customer use too.”

“Yeah,” Connor said, shoving a bite of beans and rice into his mouth and not saying more than that. His eyes had gone a bit dull. He finished his third drink. “Should we get more of these?” Connor asked his dad. 

Larry eyed the nearly empty pitcher. “I suppose another couldn’t hurt.” He got the attention of the waitress and let her know they wanted a second pitcher. 

Evan bit his lip, watching Connor, worry fully raging inside of him because Connor wasn’t really acting like himself. Or at least, who he was now. He was acting like. Pre-loops Connor. Kind of. Sullen and prickly and… 

If something fucking weird was happening right now, Evan was going to very publicly lose his shit. 

“So now that you’re out of the corporate world,” Larry said after he and Connor had started in on the second pitcher of margaritas. “What the hell do you do with all of the free time?”

Evan felt his face flushing harder. “I… I’m still kind of figuring it out honestly.”

Connor laughed sort of harshly. “Yeah, last week he reorganized my entire mailing list. He’s basically taken on an unpaid internship as my assistant.”

Evan looked down at his food, embarrassed, a strange rushing sound in his ears. “I… I was just trying to be helpful.” True, but also. He just wanted to spend time with Connor. He just wanted to be around Connor and he was terrified if he wasn’t being useful Connor would realize Evan didn’t belong in his life and he’d throw him away. 

“I’ve been considering doing some volunteer work?” Evan offered lamely. “Legal advocacy, things like that. I worked with Otis a little to sort out his benefits with the VA-”

“You did?” Connor asked, eyes big. 

Evan nodded. “Yeah I… it wasn’t a big deal, they just… I just wanted to be, like, useful. He could have died and his service did some damage and… they weren’t giving him his due”

Larry looked at Evan thoughtfully, “You should consider contract or consulting work,” he said. “You’d be good, and the money isn’t bad. Actually, a colleague of mine back home is dealing with a case about a low income housing complex and she’s been struggling a lot with some of the environmental concerns. If you’re interested, I could give her your name.”

Evan was floored. 

Apparently Larry wasn’t just having some kind of panic when he told Evan that he was a better lawyer. Apparently he meant it. 

“I… uh yeah actually that would be great. Thank you.”

Connor rolled his eyes, laughing to himself. 

Larry looked at him. “Everything alright?” 

“Nothing, nothing,” he said, shaking his head. “Just you two playing nice. Being all civil. It’s funny, really, when you think about it because when you first met it was some kinda… pissing contest or whatever. Guess you don’t give a shit that Evan went to community college now, eh, dad?”

Larry tried to smile awkwardly, coughing slightly. At that moment, his phone began to buzz. He looked at it and his face softened considerably. “It’s your mom,” he said to Connor. “Just checking in after her flight home. I’m just going to take this quickly.” He got up from the table. Strode away fast. 

“My parents are fucking,” Connor said to Evan, his voice dull. He finished another drink. “So, that’s a thing.” 

Connor was slurring a bit. 

He was kind of drunk. 

He seemed pissed off. 

“Connor did I do something wrong?” Evan asked, unable to stop himself. “You seem kind of angry and… If I did something to upset you -“

“Why would I be upset?” Connor said darkly. “Why would I be hurt that you apparently spent six months working a lawsuit with my father but avoiding me?”

Evan felt his chest clench. “I’m sorry,” he said carefully. “He’s. Exaggerating a little. I didn’t do that much, really but. You’re right. I’m sorry. I see that doing that hurt you and I’m really sorry.”

Connor rolled his eyes. “Oliver give you that line?” 

Evan inhaled sharply.

But he didn’t take the bait Connor was dangling in front of him. 

Instead he pushed his glass of water toward Connor. “Maybe you should switch to water.”

“No thanks,” Connor said cheerfully, “I’m not the one with the alcohol problem. And apparently you just won me fifteen million dollars so. I think that means I can afford to have another drink.” 


	155. ONE HUNDRED AND FIFTY-FOUR

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> “You left me when I needed you and you know what? I was fine. I was fine all by myself, so fuck you. Fuck you.”

In the back of the Lyft, Connor watches as the city zips by, flashes of lights in the dark of the night. It’s dizzying and blinding and makes him tired, so he closes his eyes. Just for a minute. Then someone’s shaking his shoulder which is extremely rude and he opens his eyes to see Evan’s face, tight with concern. 

There’s a weird stabbing feeling in his chest at the look on Evan’s face. 

He doesn’t like it when Evan’s worried. 

Except, he reminds himself, that Evan ran off and left him right after he got out of a coma but for some reason kept working on a fucking lawsuit in his name, what the fuck, why the fuck would he do that, it doesn’t make sense why would he keep on working on a lawsuit for Connor when he doesn’t want Connor?

Because he likes being a lawyer. 

Likes winning cases. 

More than he likes Connor. 

It’s all about… the win. 

Winning. 

Whoohoo, winning. Evan Hansen, for the win. 

“What?” asks Evan, and Connor scrunches up his nose. 

“I’m drunk.”

“Yeah,” says Evan. “You are. Can you get out of the car for me?”

Connor doesn’t see why he should do anything for Evan fucking Hansen who left him all alone but he should get out of the car so he’ll do it but he won’t be happy about it. 

He fumbles around in his pockets for his keys. Finds them, then kind of looks at them for a while, then drops them. 

Keys on the ground. Can’t open a door with the keys on the ground. 

“I got it,” says Evan, and Connor can’t let that stand, so he dives to get them before Evan does, except it backfires because now he’s on the ground. 

Just sitting outside his bookstore, looking at the door. 

The door looks really tall when he’s sitting down. 

“I guess it kind of is a high door,” says Evan, and Connor doesn’t think he said that bit out loud but he must have because Evan’s answering him unless Evan’s suddenly developed the ability to read minds which would suck because Connor’s still in love with him. 

Connor’s in love with Evan and Evan doesn’t love him and he’s drunk. 

And Evan might be able to read minds. 

_ Fuck you, _ Connor thinks, extremely loudly.  _ If you can read my mind, then fuck you for making me love you. Fuck you sideways with something sharp and don’t enjoy it, it should be bad, extremely bad fucking because you are officially the worst.  _

“Okay, let’s get you up,” says Evan, and he doesn’t reply to Connor’s very loud thoughts so maybe he can’t read minds which is something, Connor supposes, and probably just as well. 

He lets Evan grab his arm and hoist him up and Evan’s not as steady as he used to be, not as solid, so Connor is going to do this himself because he doesn’t need help, he doesn’t need help, he remembers feeling helpless and stupid and weak, remembers how he needed help to shower and walk and it was mortifying and awful and he asked Evan to hold on because he wasn’t always going to be like this but he didn’t even though he said he would. 

“You said you would and you lied,” Connor slurs, and Evan just looks at him, utterly bewildered. “It wasn’t… it _ wasn’t  _ always, it  _ wasn’t, _ I can prove it because I’m fine now, I’m  _ fine  _ and it’s…”

The alarm. 

He needs to disarm the alarm. 

He changed the codes after Evan left, Evan won’t know the new code so he’s got to do it, except that Evan is putting in the code and the alarm isn’t going fucking crazy so clearly  _ somehow  _ he knows the new code. Unless Connor forgot to change the code which would be so fucking typical he’s such a fucking fuck up, he’s bad at all of this, he should be happy and celebrating but he’s sad and drunk and he’s doing it all wrong wrong wrong he’s doing it wrong. 

“I changed the code,” Connor says. 

Evan looks guilty. “I know. I… I saw the new code back in February.”

“T’sa security risk,” Connor manages to say. “Ssssss… bad for security, you always worry about security I might get eaten by a bear because… the bear would know the new code.” 

“How is a bear going to put in the security code?” Evan asks, sounding almost amused. 

Connor rolls his eyes. “Carefully. Fuck’s sake.”

He stumbles across the store floor, then stops at the counter to catch his breath.

He’s dizzy. 

He’s… got to get up the stairs. 

The stairs. 

“Remember when we died on the stairs?” Connor asks. 

Evan looks pained. “Yeah. Yeah I do.”

Connor grabs Evan’s shoulder to steady himself, then looks him in the eye. “Remember when… when  _ you  _ were drunk and I couldn’t get you up the stairs so we had to sleep on the bean bags in the sunshine spot?” he asks, and part of him is screaming in protest when Evan’s face falls and he looks so fucking sad, but the other part of him is… triumphant, because fuck Evan, fuck him for leaving and making Connor feel so fucking useless. He takes a breath, then continues. “Then I had to call Jax and Jax helped you and you were really drunk and I was so fucking worried and I fractured my rib.”

Evan’s eyes widen. “You fractured your rib?”

Connor nods. “Yup. I went to the doctor, like, the next week, and there was a big ugly bruise still and they said because I was so… so fucked up from the coma that it just went… snap! Just a little fracture, though, it didn’t break or punch… puncture anything, and I didn’t really feel it anyway.” Evan looks close to tears and Connor wants to take it back except he doesn’t because _ fuck you. _ “I had… fishes to… bigger fish. There were bigger fish than a fucking fractured rib then. So… so many fish.”

Evan puts his arm around Connor’s waist and guides him up the stairs and Connor hates it but it’s better than Evan carrying him because it always made him feel like some kind of fucking damsel in distress and Evan made a joke about slaying a dragon and washing off its guts in the shower but maybe Evan was the dragon, maybe he was the dragon all along except there’s no castle and no tower and fairytales are usually way darker than the Disney versions anyway and maybe Evan can breathe fire can Evan breathe fire?

“I… I can’t breathe fire,” says Evan awkwardly, and Connor swears under his breath. 

_ Fuck you, _ he thinks loudly.  _ Still reading my thoughts, fuck fuck fuck you fuuuuuuuck yooooou.  _

The lights in Connor’s kitchen go on and he is sitting at the kitchen table and there’s water in front of him. “Drink this,” says Evan, and Connor scowls at him. 

“I’m fine,” he snaps. “You don’t need to fucking baby me, I’m…. I’m older than you.”

“I’m just trying to stop you from having as bad a hangover tomorrow,” says Evan, his tone so reasonable, and Connor hates it he hates it he hates it. 

“I am so…  _ fucking  _ sick of people acting like I’m helpless and useless and weak,” Connor snaps. “Everyone… everyone thinks I’m so weak and helpless and I’m… I’m fucking broken, that I’m fucking broken and you know what, that’s bullshit because I’m fine, I fought  _ really  _ hard to be fine.” He looks at Evan, straight in the eye. “You left me when I needed you and you know what? I was fine. I was  _ fine  _ all by myself, so fuck you. Fuck you.”

Evan visibly flinches, but doesn’t say anything. Doesn’t respond. 

It makes Connor so fucking mad that he doesn’t argue. 

Like he’s not even fucking worth an argument. 

Which is bullshit because Evan loves to argue, it’s like his favorite thing. 

He loves to fucking argue. 

“You left me,” he continues, feeling the room spin, “and then you just… kept fucking working on the lawsuit? Working with my dad on the lawsuit against the hospital? You left me, you wouldn’t even fucking talk to me even though I waited for you, I waited for you outside your apartment like a fucking psycho and you wouldn’t talk to me but you’d send… you’d do the legal shit with my dad? You’d talk to my fucking dad? I thought you hated my dad.”

“I don’t hate your dad,” says Evan quietly. 

“Of course you fucking don’t,” Connor snaps, and the room is still spinning and fuck the room, fuck everything, fuck this fuck all of this. “You and my dad are best friends now or whatever, and that… that fucking makes sense, because  _ your  _ dad sucks, he fucking sucks and so I guess you’re like  _ my  _ dad is… free real estate or whatever.” Connor points at Evan accusingly. “ _ You _ are  _ exactly  _ the kind of person Larry fucking Murphy’s kid should be. You’re the… successful lawyer son he wanted and he must be so  _ fucking  _ disappointed he’s stuck with me, but he  _ is  _ stuck with me, things are finally fucking okay with my dad and you can’t just jump in and take that, okay? You fucking can’t. It’s not fucking fair.”

Evan’s eyes widen. “I don’t want to-”

“You just want to win,” Connor interrupts, standing up because he’s figured it out. “You kept working on the lawsuit because… you wanted to win. That was it, you wanted to win, you didn’t want me but you wanted to win and now you’ve won, okay, you won the lawsuit so you can… you can stop pretending to be my friend, stop pretending to care, you can fuck right on off with your winning lawsuit and this… this  _ bullshit  _ about caring because  _ you left,  _ Evan, you  _ left  _ me.” He tries to take a step but the kitchen is still fucking spinning and he stumbles and Evan’s holding onto his arm all of a sudden so he throws him off and lurches with everything he’s got toward his bedroom, barely making it to the edge of the bed before grabbing the trashcan and throwing up violently. 

Ugh, gross. 

Beans. 

Refried, regurgitated. 

Fuck you, beans. 

He drinks the glass of water he’s given, the whole glass, before he realizes that Evan was the one to give it to him, and fuck Evan, fuck him fuck him he left he left he left-

“I’m not leaving,” Evan says, something firm in his tone. “I’m sorry I left before, but I’m not leaving you like this.”

“Why not?” Connor snaps. “You’re really… really fucking good at leaving.”

“I’m going to get you another glass of water-”

“Just stop, okay? Just. Just fucking stop.”

Evan stops. 

Looks at him. 

Connor tries to stand up but fails.

He looks Evan dead in the eye. 

“You’re not my fucking boyfriend. Get the fuck out of my apartment and stop pretending to care.”

* * *

“You’re not my fucking boyfriend. Get the fuck out of my apartment and stop pretending to care.”

Evan shut his eyes for a moment, taking a breath in through his nose. He wanted to break down crying. He wanted to shout back at Connor, call him a pathetic cheating asshole who just got fifteen million fucking dollars because Evan cared about him and couldn’t stop even though he had tried. Evan cared and Evan loved him and Evan had already apologized thousands of times for what he had done. 

But. 

It wouldn’t do any good. And really, Connor was allowed to be angry. He was allowed to be angry and drunk and yelling at Evan if he wanted. Evan deserved that. 

But he wasn’t just going to leave Connor like this. Not when he was this drunk, this upset. 

So he wasn’t going anywhere. 

“I know,” Evan said, his voice shaking. “I know I’m not your boyfriend. But I… I care about you, Connor. And you’re really drunk and I want to make sure you’re okay.”

“Yeah, whatever, fuck you,” Connor mumbled. 

Evan sighed. “I’m gonna go clean this out and get you more water,” He said heavily, grabbing the trash can. “You should get changed.”

“Why the fuck should I listen to you?” Connor said. 

Evan bit his lip. “Fine. Sleep in your clothes then.” 

He headed into the kitchen, where he cleaned out the trash bin and then lined it with an old shopping bag. He filled the glass up with water, sloshing some by accident because his hands were shaking so badly. He pulled his phone out of his pocket and called Alex. 

“This is Dr. Dawson,” Her voice said. 

“Hey Alex,” Evan said, trying to keep his voice even. “So. I’m probably overreacting but just in case I’m not, can you just super quickly tell me the signs of alcohol poisoning?”

“Are you drunk?” Alex asked. She sounded freaked out. “You said you weren’t drinking anymore.”

“No, I’m not drinking, Connor’s… He’s drunk. Not me,” Evan said softly. “He’s… upset about the lawsuit settlement and I think he’s just really drunk but I want to make sure.”

“Okay,” Alex said. “Well. Vomiting and confusion, but that’s just…drunk people. What you gotta look out for is stuff like seizures, low body temp, and slowed or irregular breathing. Also if he passes out and won’t wake back up.”

“Okay,” Evan said, reassuring himself. “Okay. He fell asleep in the cab, but he woke up when I nudged him. And he’s thrown up but like. A normal amount. I think… I think he’s just pretty drunk.”

“Okay, that’s good,” Alex said, her voice even. Reassuring. “I get off in twenty minutes, I could come over and check on him if it would make you feel better?”

Evan sighed. “I… no. Thanks. I think it’s just. Anxiety and after what happened last year… I’ll probably just stay and keep an eye on him.”

“Okay,” Alex said. “Call if you need me, okay? Even if it’s just to talk yeah?”

“Okay.” 

“Why is he upset about the lawsuit?” Alex asked. “I heard he got like. Over ten million dollars.”

“I think he’s more pissed that I worked with his dad on it when we… weren’t speaking.”

“Ah. Well. I guess I could see it.”

“Yeah,” Evan said hollowly. They hung up not long after. Alex repeated her offer to come by but Evan figured that would only make Connor more angry at him if he was fine. 

Evan brought the trash can back into Connor’s room. Connor was asleep, lying across his bed diagonally, still fully dressed. Evan stood, watching him breathe, counting breaths in a minute before taking a deep breath of his own. Connor was breathing normally. His mouth was wide open, and Edgar was sniffing around his head. He looked up at Evan and mewled softly, like he was concerned. 

“Yeah buddy, I know,” Evan said softly. 

He set the trash can on Connor’s side of the bed, then he scrubbed a hand over his face. Connor was still wearing his shoes. 

Right. 

“Hey,” Evan said, shaking him gently. “Can you sit up and at least take off your shoes?”

Connor groaned, opening his eyes blearily “Fucking… I told you I don’t want you-” He hiccupped. “I don’t want you here.”

“I know,” Evan said, even as Connor’s words sliced through him. “But you still gotta take off your shoes.” 

Connor rolled over, sighing irritably and he clumsily started to try to kick his shoes off. “Fucking… You’re. The worst.”

“I know,” Evan said, sighing. He untied Connor’s shoes, even as Connor tried to kick him away. He pulled them off one by one. “How are you feeling? Do you need to be sick again? Are you cold at all?”

“No. Stop. Stop taking off my shoes, fucking, I don’t want help I don’t  _ want _ you here.”

“I’m sorry,” Evan said softly, setting the shoes down. 

“As bad as fucking  _ Nate _ trying to…I don’t need you. Don’t need anybody, just get out.” Connor weakly lobbed a pillow at Evan. It landed flatly a foot away from where he stood. “Get  _ out. _ ”

“Alright,” Evan said. “I’m going.”

“Good, leave,” Connor mumbled. “Run away. ‘S what you’re best at. Leaving.”

Evan wearily left the room, going to sit on the sofa in the living room, not even bothering to turn on the lights. And when after a few minutes of listening, Evan heard Connor sigh, signifying he was falling asleep, Evan… broke. 

_ “You left me when I needed you and you know what? I was fine. I was  _ fine _ all by myself, so fuck you. Fuck you.” _

Because Connor was right. 

He’d been fine without Evan. Evan was the one who had been a mess, Evan was the one who fell apart without Connor, and they both knew that. But it didn’t hurt less to hear. Connor’s barbs and low blows didn’t hurt less… because he was right. 

When Evan was still with him, he’d done nothing but hurt Connor. Connor had fractured a rib because of him. Connor had been in a coma, in another universe, had died twenty times all because of him. Evan had ruined Connor’s life. 

Of course he didn’t fucking forgive Evan. 

Evan had been stupid to think he could get away with helping with the lawsuit without hurting Connor. He had been stupid to think Connor would ever actually forgive him for leaving. He was so fucking stupid to think things might be okay with him. 

_ “You’re not my fucking boyfriend. Get the fuck out of my apartment and stop pretending to care.” _

But he wasn’t pretending. 

Evan cared so much. So fucking much. 

He cared more than he wanted to, more than he should. He cared so much sometimes he thought it could kill him, he thought it might drown in it, like it might fill his lungs and choke on it. 

So Evan sat, in the dark of Connor’s living room, and wept. Until his heart felt lighter. Until he felt less like he might collapse in on himself and crumble. 

Then Evan got up. 

Wiped his face. 

Poured himself a glass of water and headed back to Connor’s bedroom. Connor was fast asleep, his head curled up on the pillow on what used to be Evan’s side of the bed. Evan stood there and watched him in the dim light for a little while. Watching his chest rise and fall. Careful not to wake him, Evan briefly pressed the back of this hand to Connor’s forehead. He seemed to be warm. A normal temperature and he had woken up when Evan roused him and he was breathing evenly and normally. Not alcohol poisoning. 

There was an armchair in the corner of Connor’s bedroom, and Evan settled himself in the chair. 

Kept watch. 

Connor woke up once, around two in the morning to get sick again. And when he did, Evan was there to hold his hair, rub his back soothingly, and give him a glass of water when he was finished. “You’re okay,” Evan said quietly. 

“You’re here?” Connor mumbled. Evan nodded, some of the guilt cluttering up his insides loosening slightly. Maybe Connor had slept off his anger. Maybe they’d be okay. He sagged against Evan for a moment. “Don’t feel good.” 

“I know,” Evan said softly, rubbing his back. “It’s okay. I got you.”

Connor sniffed, pushing Evan away weakly. “Don’t… stop it. Stop. Don’t… ‘M fine. Don’t need help.”

“I know you don’t need it,” Evan said softly. “But I’m gonna help anyway.”

“Whatever,” Connor said, rolling his eyes. He sat back on the bed. “I’m  _ fine _ , you’re the one who… you’re the one  _ I _ keep saving so how about you just - Why am I in  _ jeans _ ?” His voice was accusatory, like somehow Evan had facilitated that decision. 

Evan sighed. “You refused to change clothes when we got back.” He knew his frustration was bleeding through but he didn’t care. 

“Whatever,” Connor wrinkled his nose. “I have puke on my shirt,” He said, holding it away from his chest. “Gross that’s… Disgusting.”

Evan got up. He wordlessly went into the drawer where Connor kept his pajamas, and he pulled out some sweats and a faded but soft black My Chemical Romance t-shirt. He noticed that folded up beside the shirt was Evan’s NYU School of Law t-shirt. It had been missing since February but here it was, sitting in Connor’s drawer. God that… Evan didn’t know what to do with that. “I’ll just take care of this,” Evan said. He took the trash can out of Connor’s room. Cleaned it again. Came back to find Connor already fast asleep, wearing the pajamas Evan had grabbed for him, his other clothes balled up at the foot of his bed. 

Evan picked those clothes up and set them in Connor’s hamper. He put a fresh glass of water on the bedside table, alongside a bottle of painkillers. And then he took his place back in the chair. Where he stayed. Watched the sun rise. 

His eyes burned. Evan had a headache blooming behind his eyes. 

He remembered, as the clock clicked over to show it was six in the morning, that he had meds here at Connor’s apartment. He wearily got up and took his meds. 

He ought to go home. 

Connor didn’t want him here. He didn’t belong here. He had made sure Connor had made it through the night, made sure he hadn’t choked on his own vomit or slipped into another reality or any of the other terrifying possibilities that always lurked when Evan and Connor were involved. So. 

He should go home. 

But here he was. He returned to sitting in an armchair in the corner of Connor’s room, watching Connor sleep, unable to make himself leave. 

God, he was so tired. 


	156. ONE HUNDRED AND FIFTY-FIVE

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> “I was lying. I wasn’t fine, I… I missed you so much it felt like someone had scooped out my insides. I wasn’t fine.”

Connor wakes up to the weird sensation of being watched. 

He sits up the best he can and realizes that his limbs are basically wet noodles. He’s drained and exhausted and feels like he’s been hit by a fucking bus with Alana Beck’s face on it. 

He remembers…

Margaritas. 

A lot of margaritas. 

Evan helping him home. 

And Connor…

Connor being a total jackass about it. 

A total fucking asshole. 

Fuck. 

Fucking fuck. 

“Hey,” comes a soft voice from across the room. “You doing okay?”

Connor blinks a few times, because Evan can’t possibly be sitting in an armchair in the corner of his room. It’s completely and utterly impossible that Evan’s sitting there, still here after Connor drunkenly yelled at him for fuck knows how long. 

But here he is. 

He stayed. 

Evan stayed. 

“I’m never drinking again,” Connor manages to say, his voice coming out weak and raw. It reminds him of how he sounded when he first got back to this reality, when he got out of the coma. 

He hates it he hates it so much. 

Evan almost smiles at that. He doesn’t move from the armchair. 

“Been there,” he says, not unkindly. 

He looks at Connor, this guarded, almost searching look, that’s so cautious and so sad it makes something inside Connor crumble, dissolve into tiny pieces. 

The part of Connor’s heart that belongs to Evan, that will always belong to Evan, is screaming in protest, screaming at the rest of him, yelling and crying because he was so fucking stupid, he’s so fucking stupid, why the fuck would he yell at Evan, why would he say the shit he said?

“I’m so fucking sorry,” Connor manages to choke out. “I am… such an asshole, fuck.”

Evan’s guarded, cautious look doesn’t change. 

For a moment, he doesn’t speak. 

“Thank you,” he says quietly. “For apologizing.” He stands up. “I should go.”

“Don’t,” Connor says immediately, urgently. He scoots to the edge of the bed closest to the armchair and gingerly perches himself on the edge. “I’m not done apologizing yet, fuck, I-”

“It’s fine, really.”

“No it’s fucking not.” Connor shakes his head. “There is… there is no excuse to treat you like that. I have… no excuse, that was cruel and I am sorry.”

Something in Evan’s expression shifts, and his lip turns up in an almost smile that feels more like a grimace. “What’s the expression? In vino veritas.”

“I was drinking tequila,” says Connor, momentarily confused as to why Evan’s talking about wine because he’s a hungover disaster.

Evan does actually smile at that, but it doesn’t last long. “Yeah, well, the idea still stands.” He sighs. “You… I can see how me working with your dad on the lawsuit when we weren’t talking must have hurt. I didn’t… I didn’t realize, and I’m sorry.” 

Connor shakes his head again, more vigorously this time, and immediately regrets it because he feels like shit. “It wasn’t… it wasn’t fucking okay for me to go off at you about that, it wasn’t… it wasn’t fair of me to accuse you of… of only wanting to win.” 

Evan doesn’t answer. 

Connor runs a hand through his hair. 

Bits of it are stuck together with puke. 

Fuck. 

That’s disgusting. 

“If all you cared about was winning, you… you wouldn’t be here right now,” Connor says, his eyes stinging. “You wouldn’t have helped me and… and made sure I was okay even though I was fucking awful to you.”

“I wasn’t about to just leave you when you were that drunk,” Evan says, and he looks so sad. “I wanted to make sure you were safe.”

Connor’s eyes are burning now, but he’s not going to cry, he’s not going to fucking cry, he absolutely cannot let Evan see him cry. 

“I’m so fucking sorry,” Connor says again, his throat tight. “I just… I don’t know what the fuck is going on with me? I’m just… I’m all over the place, I’m such an asshole, you shouldn’t have to put up with-”

“Connor.”

He stops talking. 

Looks at Evan, who still has that guarded, cautious expression. 

“You’ve seen me through worse,” Evan continues quietly. “Much worse. It’s okay.”

Connor shakes his head. “No, it’s not-”

“This was never going to be easy,” Evan interrupts again. “I meant what I said. You’re allowed to feel however you feel about all of this.”

* * *

Connor looked like he might cry and Evan desperately willed him to keep it together because if Connor cried, he would lose it. He’d start crying and never fucking stop. He’d end up back at the treatment center needing to be sedated and restrained. 

Connor blinked a few times. “I… I really am sorry. I was awful.”

Evan shrugged. “I’ve been worse to you,” He said, his voice quiet. “I’ve been worse when I was sober. So. It’s fine.” 

“It’s not fine,” Connor choked out. 

Evan felt his lips turn down involuntarily, his eyes stinging. “I mean. It’s... “ He cleared his throat. “It is what it is. That’s what you say right? I’m just, you know. I’m glad you’re okay.” He blinked. “You are okay, right?”

“Hungover,” Connor mumbled. “But… yeah.”

Evan nodded. “Good. Well I’ll -”

“Why’d you stay?” Connor asked quietly. 

“Like I said, I couldn’t leave you when you were that drunk,” Evan said, embarrassed. “I… You’re important to me, even when you’re… pissed at me and throwing stuff.”

“I threw stuff?” Connor looked embarrassed. 

“Just a pillow.” Evan stood up. Put his hands in his pockets. “I ought to head out,” He said, trying awkwardly to stretch out his neck. “I dozed off a little but… sitting in an armchair all night is apparently not something I can tolerate now that I’m old.” 

Connor flinched. “I’m sorry -”

“It’s okay,” Evan said, again. Okay. Fine. His two favorite words. He looked at Connor, trying to keep his expression guarded. “I’ll see you later?”

“Can I at least buy you breakfast?” Connor said quickly. “To apologize? I… I just need to shower first.” His cheeks flushed pink. “I got puke in my hair.”

Evan frowned. He had tried to prevent that, but Connor had sort of shoved him away. 

He wasn’t sure if he could tolerate sitting across from Connor at breakfast. He wasn’t sure he could tolerate going home and sitting around being alone either. 

“I guess… breakfast would be good,” Evan said quietly. 

Connor clamored awkwardly out of bed. “Great. Just. I’ll just be a few minutes.” He headed to his closet and started pulling out clothes.

Evan nodded. “Connor?” He said suddenly. 

Connor turned to look at him. “Yeah?”

Evan pushed a hand through his dirty hair. “I don’t like winning that much,” he said, frowning. “If… if it was just about money, or about winning, I’d have pushed to take the case to trial. I would have dragged it out. I’m… I know I’m good at what I do. It wasn’t about winning, okay? I… didn’t care about money or-or my reputation or any of that shit. I just. I just wanted to make sure you and your family… got what was owed to you.”

Connor nodded curtly. 

Headed to the bathroom. 

Evan walked into the living room and sunk down onto the sofa, his head throbbing dully. He needed to fucking cry but he… couldn’t. Not with Connor so close. So he just sat there, head in his hands, and listened to the sound of the water in the bathroom running. 

If he didn’t know better, he might have thought he heard crying.

* * *

Connor turns the shower on and immediately loses it. 

Just… starts fucking sobbing like a kid. 

Fucking hell. 

It takes a moment, but he manages to get out of his clothes and under the spray of the water, hoping that the noise of the shower will stop Evan from hearing that he’s just…

Fucking losing it. 

He hates this he hates this he hates this. 

He hates that none of it makes fucking sense. He hates that Evan kept working on the case after he left Connor, because it hurts so fucking much, it hurts to think of him still caring. 

It hurts that Evan cares but doesn’t love him anymore. 

Maybe it would be easier if Evan didn’t care at all. 

Connor hates this he hates this he hates feeling like this so fucking much. 

He hates feeling weak and stupid and helpless and ruined, he hates that a part of him feels like maybe he did die in a bathtub full of ice in another reality. 

A part of him still feels like maybe he’s been dead this whole time. 

He hates himself for lashing out at Evan, he hates himself for letting himself get so fucked up about this whole thing, he hates himself for being completely incapable of moving on. 

He lets himself cry as he washes his hair, then the rest of him, and takes a few deep breaths under the spray, trying to get himself under control before he turns off the showerhead. 

He feels sick and drained and awful and…

Like a black and white illustration of himself where there used to be color. 

When he finally feels like he’s something approaching a human person, he gets dressed and quickly combs his hair and throws it into a bun, then heads out of the bathroom, through the kitchen and into the living room, where Evan’s sitting on the sofa, looking absolutely wrecked. 

Connor hates himself for putting Evan through this. 

For making him worry, for making him feel like he needed to stay. 

Fuck, Connor’s glad he stayed. 

Even though Connor was such an asshole. 

Fuck, he’s such an asshole. 

“Obviously breakfast is on me,” says Connor, trying for a light tone. Evan looks up and almost smiles. 

“This is probably the only time I’m not going to fight you on it,” says Evan, and the joke is a little half-hearted but it’s something. “Make sure to savor the moment.”

“Absolutely,” says Connor, and he reaches out his hand to help Evan off the sofa. Evan looks a little hesitant, but lets Connor hoist him up, and when Connor pulls a little too hard and brings Evan crashing toward him, his cheeks turn pink and something inside Connor twists almost happily. 

He’s missed Evan so fucking much. 

So fucking much. 

They have breakfast at the diner where they didn’t die, and Connor orders scrambled eggs. 

Scrambled eggs and nothing else. 

Evan’s busy shredding up a napkin, his face pale and strained, determinedly not meeting Connor’s gaze, but when Connor places his order he finally looks at him.

“Seriously? Please order something else. Anything else. I can’t sit here and watch you pay six dollars for a plate of scrambled eggs and toast.”

“You just won me fifteen million dollars,” Connor points out, his grin widening even more. “I’m going to leave a hundred dollar tip because I can.”

Evan does actually laugh at that, and it feels like a win. “Oh my god.”

This whole situation is just so… so fucking awful and Connor doesn’t know what else to do but try to make Evan laugh, try to lighten things up, try to bring some humor into this whole mess.

Maybe it’ll make this okay, it’ll make it all better, Connor doesn’t know how to make this better and he hates it he hates it he hates it so much. 

He hates himself. 

“In fact,” Connor continues, “I’m going to get one of those money guns, load it with hundred dollar bills and run around Central Park, just shooting money at people.”

Evan laughs again, and it’s Connor’s favorite sound in the world. “That sounds like a surefire way to get actually shot, you do realize?”

Connor shrugs. “Maybe I’m bulletproof,” he says. “After all, I punched a coma in the face.”

Something in Evan’s face shifts, twists, looks horribly, horribly sad. 

“Yeah,” says Evan after a moment, his voice quiet and trembling. “You did. You… you did.”

* * *

Evan ordered French Toast. 

One of these days Connor would point out that they were literally just eggs and bread and Evan was going to lose his shit and probably cry about it because one of these days Connor would actually tell him to permanently fuck off and he’d leave forever and Evan would have to obey because he’d deserve it. 

One of these days Connor would meet someone else, someone nice who wasn’t a coward like Evan who left him, who wasn’t a wreck, and then that would be it. A slow fade out. He’d expect it but it would hurt like a bitch. 

But Connor deserved someone who was nice and not a coward who left when things got hard and Evan deserved to fucking be alone. 

Connor punched a coma in the face, he fought his way back from another universe and then fought his way back again, from the precipice of death, and Evan had bailed. He’d left. He kept hearing Connor’s voice echoing in his head and chant, a mantra:

_ You left you left you left me when I needed you.  _

_ I was fine. I was fine. I was fine.  _

_ Fuck you fuck you fuck you.  _

He didn’t deserve to be here. They both knew it. Who the hell did he and Connor think they were fooling, trying to be friends after everything? There was too much damage. Too much hurt. 

_ You left you left you left me when I needed you.  _

Fuck, Evan wished Connor would stop looking at him like Evan was a puppy he’d accidentally kicked. Evan was hardly the wronged party in all of this. Sure, Connor had gone at him sort of unprompted, but everything he had said was based in truth. In this reality. It wasn’t like Connor had been wielding false accusations, though the comment about how Evan only helped with the suit because he liked to win was borderline at best. Evan did like winning, but he loved Connor far more. 

It hurt though. It didn’t mean this didn’t hurt. 

_ “You’re not my fucking boyfriend.” _

That one would leave a mark. 

Scar tissue was tougher, Evan thought. Otis has said that once. He wondered if it was from a movie or something. 

“You’re not eating,” Connor said softly. 

Evan looked at his plate, where he had been pushing the same piece of French Toast around the syrup puddle for a while. “Sorry,” he said awkwardly. “I took my meds late? I kind of forgot I had some at your place and sometimes they make me sort of… sick to my stomach. My fault.”

“Oh,” Connor said, his voice soft. Sad. 

“It’s not a big deal,” Evan said, trying to smile. He put the bite he had been playing with into his mouth. He liked the French Toast here. They made it with challah and that was weirdly comforting somehow. “I’m okay.”

“It’s okay if you’re not,” Connor said, his tone kind of… urgent. “I know I fucked up. I’m sorry.”

“You don’t have to keep apologizing,” Evan said quietly. “Really it’s… you know. Whatever. Not like I didn’t have it coming.” He took a sip of his coffee, the mug feeling extremely heavy in his hands. He gave up. Set it down shakily. 

“Evan…” Connor said, sounding so fucking sad, wrecked. 

“It’s… I mean. Honestly. It’s about time you, like, told me how things were for you. I’m. I’m glad you were okay after I left, actually, I mean, it’s good because I fucked you over and-”

“I wasn’t fine,” Connor said. 

Evan felt something inside him clench. “But… last night you said-”

Connor frowned. “I was lying. I wasn’t fine, I… I missed you so much it felt like someone had scooped out my insides. I wasn’t fine.”

Evan stared. His eyes stung and he couldn’t swallow the lump that rose in his throat. “I am so sorry, Connor. I hate that I did that to you.” He stared down at his full plate of food, his stomach churning. “I missed you too. Every day. And I’m so fucking sorry. I guess… I guess some stupid part of me th-thought that if I helped with the lawsuit I could, I dunno. Make up for what I did. At least a little.” He shook his head. Sniffed, wiped his eyes quickly. “I’m sorry.” 

Connor nodded. “I was a prick last night.”

Evan shook his head. “I deserved it.” 

“No,” Connor said, insisting. “I’ve been feeling ways about the suit and I just. Threw them all at you.” 

Evan nodded. “Yeah that’s. I get that.” He tried for a smile. “Been there.” He took a bite of his food. “I know you don’t need saving. By the way. I know you don’t, like, need me around-”

“Stop, please,” Connor said looking so fucking sad. “Drunk me was just being an asshole.”

But Evan couldn’t stop. “And about your dad… I. I’m so sorry? I… I overstepped, I do not want to like get in the way of the two of you h-having a relationship and I know I’ve got stupid fucking d-daddy issues and-”

“Evan please,” Connor said softly. “I’m sorry. I didn’t actually mean that I was just. Stupid. I took a cheap shot because I was feeling stupid and insecure and I am sorry.”

“I just,” Evan went on. “If you don’t want me around, if this is too much, if I’m too much I get it. I get it okay, I’m not stupid, I know I’ve just been making things harder I understand if you’re done with me I frankly don’t even know why you’d put up with me this long I-”

“Stop,” Connor said firmly. “I don’t. I do not want that. At all, okay?” 

Evan didn’t think he believed him. 

But he wasn’t going to argue. 

* * *

“If you don’t want me around, if this is too much, if I’m too much I get it. I get it okay, I’m not stupid, I know I’ve just been making things harder I understand if you’re done with me I frankly don’t even know why you’d put up with me this long I-”

“Stop,” Connor interrupts. “I don’t. I do not want that. At all, okay?” 

Evan blinks. 

Looks completely unconvinced. 

Hangs his head and just… nods. 

“Evan,” Connor says, sharper than he means to. “Look at me.”

After what feels like forever, Evan lifts his gaze and meets Connor’s eye. 

“I was a fucking idiot last night,” he says firmly. “I was… I shouldn’t have drank that much, I shouldn’t have been drinking at all. Not like that.” He smiles a little sheepishly. “My alcohol tolerance is not what it used to be. Not even close.”

“Mine too,” Evan murmurs, his voice barely above a whisper. 

“You were… there,” Connor says awkwardly. “So you… I took it out on you because of… proximity. And that wasn’t fair, it wasn’t fair at all, I wasn’t even a little bit fair to you.”

“It’s not like what you said wasn’t true-”

“It’s not that black and white,” Connor interrupts. “Drunk me is an asshole with… no fucking appreciation of nuance, okay? You…” He swallows hard. “I’m not going to lie and say it didn’t hurt when you left and it didn’t hurt that you… you talked to my dad when you wouldn’t talk to me, but I know it’s not that simple. I  _ know  _ things weren’t that simple. And you’ve… fuck, Evan, you have  _ no fucking idea _ how much better my life is with you in it, okay? I missed you like… like a vital organ.” 

Evan looks like he’s going to cry. “A vital organ?” 

“Yeah,” Connor says, his throat going dry. “Not one of those fucking useless ones.” He tries to smile. “Not like a fucking  _ appendix. _ That fucker’s more trouble than it’s worth.” 

Evan blinks a few times, then lets out a wet laugh. 

Blinks a few more times. 

Looks back at his French Toast. 

Neither of them comment that the other one is definitely tearing up in the middle of this diner. 

* * *

A vital organ. 

Connor said he’d missed Evan like a vital organ. And it was funny because… Evan had felt the same way. 

And now… now that Evan and Connor were speaking again it was better. It was kind of like he’d gotten a transplant or something. There was a lot of management that went into keeping the organ from being rejected. 

Maybe he was romanticizing his memories of Connor in the past but before he got sick it sure as hell felt like things had been easier. Not always easy, but rarely this painful. 

Evan ended up taking most of his French Toast in a to-go box. He bemoaned the fact that he hadn’t brought something reusable with him from home and that the box was styrofoam. “If anyone at work finds out, I’ll be out of a job,” he said, trying to complain, to behave normally. 

Connor smiled. “You are one of the most eco conscious people ever dude. Pretty sure this one time use of styrofoam isn’t going to ruin your street cred.”

“I’m killing the fucking whales,” Evan grumbled, annoyed. 

But he did happily notice that their waitress had received a $100 tip so. That made Evan feel a little better. 

Connor was just so good. 

“I should go home,” Evan said somewhat reluctantly when they exited the diner. “I’m really fucking tired.”

Connor nodded. “I’ll walk with you.”

Evan wanted to protest but he was too worn down so he didn’t. He allowed Connor to head in the direction of his apartment building, not complaining at all. He’d take any excuse to be near Connor. 

A vital organ. 

Like kidneys or hearts. 

Could you break a kidney like you broke your heart? Evan didn’t know. 

“Look,” Connor said, blowing out a breath when they got to Evan’s new block. “I… are we okay? Me and you?”

Evan shrugged, saying, “If you’re okay, then I’m okay.”

Connor nodded. 

Evan swallowed. “I didn’t know. About the fractured rib, after Sabrina and Graham’s wedding. I’m so sorry. I didn’t know.”

Connor sighed. “It’s okay. It healed up well.” He was eyeing Evan sheepishly. 

“You don’t have to say that.”

“It’s the truth. I was… I was okay.”

They walked a few more minutes. 

“I broke a rib last year,” Evan offered. 

Connor looked super sad. “You did?”

Evan nodded. “The thing with… with Charlie. I was pretty banged up.” He looked off down the street, not at Connor. “But I’m okay now.”

Connor’s face fell. “Oh.”

“I’m okay,” Evan said with a shrug, suddenly, stupidly feeling like he might cry again. “Sorry. I don’t know why I’d say that, I -”

“Don’t worry about it.” Connor saved him. Because he always did. “I’m just glad you’re okay.”


	157. ONE HUNDRED AND FIFTY-SIX

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> "I thought the only way to keep you safe was to keep you as far away from me as possible."

When the money from the settlement comes through, the first thing Connor does is give Jax, Maureen and Leslie each a huge bonus. A stupidly huge bonus, according to Leslie. She spends nearly twenty minutes trying to convince him to give back the check, but Connor refuses. 

“I want you to have this.”

Leslie shakes her head. “No. This is insane. You cannot give me this much money.”

“It’s my money,” Connor points out. “I can do whatever I want with it.”

“Exactly,” Leslie counters. “ _ You _ can do what you want with it.”

“What I want to do with it,” Connor says firmly, “is give it to you. And Jax and Maureen.” 

Leslie lets out this weird, choked laugh, her eyes a little glassy. “Pretty sure this isn’t how most people run businesses, Connor. I mean, we’re your employees.”

“You’re my family,” Connor says immediately. “Sure, you’re my employees, but you’re… you three are family, okay? And I want you to have this money.”

Leslie’s definitely tearing up now. “Connor, come on.”

“You guys… it was hard for you too,” Connor says, a little awkwardly. “What happened to me. So you deserve… something. It’s not… it’ll never make up for it, but… I don’t know, hopefully it will help? It’ll be… you can do something nice for Camille, maybe.”

“I could fly us both to fucking Europe first class with this kind of money,” Leslie says with a wet, choked laugh. 

“That’s an idea,” Connor says, trying to smile. “Go hang out on a beach somewhere. I’m sure Camille would appreciate that.”

Leslie blinks a few times, then pulls Connor into a tight hug. 

And doesn’t let go for a long time. 

“Thank you,” she says, face buried in his shoulder. “This is… this is overwhelmingly kind of you.”

“It’s the least I can do.”

Leslie laughs. Rolls her eyes. “Pretty sure you could do a whole lot less.”

Summer continues on. June turns into July. 

And Connor can’t stop fucking thinking about this time last year. 

About nearly dying. About being  _ seconds _ away from dying and coming back just in time. 

About dreaming about his funeral - that intense, vivid dream that wasn’t a dream, not really, because Otis was there, Otis  _ remembers _ it. 

Which means it was real. 

Which means that Connor  _ actually _ attended his own funeral. 

And fuck, okay, that’s some  _ Adventures of Tom Sawyer  _ shit right there. There’s a reason the whole ‘attending your own funeral’ thing shows up in all sorts of media and has its own fucking TV Tropes page - it’s one hell of a gut punch. It’s…

Fuck, Connor just can’t really process it. 

At all. 

As his ‘death date’ gets closer, Connor can’t stop fucking thinking about it. About walking into a venue and seeing a photo of himself with Edgar perched on his shoulder, with his birth date and death date written underneath. 

_ Connor Lawrence Murphy _

_ February 26, 1992 - July 7, 2021 _

It’s 2022. He’s alive, a whole year after his funeral.

He wasn’t supposed to make it to 30 and yet here he is. 

He doesn’t sleep much the moment it ticks over into July. Or at all, really. He drinks a lot of coffee, keeps busy and tries not to let on that he’s freaking out, that he’s really fucking scared, that there’s a part of him that’s terrified that this isn’t real, that none of this is real, that he’s already dead, that the last year has been a hallucination and that…

_ “You died. I went to your funeral and-and I loved you and… And you died. And. And I’m gonna die soon too.” _

Connor should have known then. 

Should have done something then. 

Something to save Evan from the pain. 

_ “I can’t do this. I’m so tired. So tired. I just want to be with Connor. My Connor. The real one. The dead one. I want to be with him and I’m going to be soon.” _

What if it’s not real? What if none of this is real and he’s just imagining things?

What if Evan’s dead? What if Connor’s been dead this whole time and so has Evan?

_ “It’s been building for weeks. That’s part of why you’re here, isn’t it? Because I want to die again. I’ve been thinking about it since he got sick… It’s got to happen. Soon. Not that it’s not nice to see you it’s just that…. You’re not real. You’re not him. And I want to be with him.” _

Connor did this. He did this. He did this. It’s his fault Evan’s in so much pain, he…

He…

“Stop it,” he says to himself sternly. “This isn’t… you’re not helping.”

None of this is helping. 

Because that was another reality. A reality where he died, not this one. 

A reality where Evan loved him, not this one. 

He… 

Fuck, he really needs some fucking sleep. 

To just… hide away, hide away from everything and everyone, until July 7 has been and gone. He’s letting it get to him, which is so fucking stupid, because it’s just a day, it’s just a day, it’s just a day. It’s not like his birthday where there’s the ever-looming fear of dying and dying and dying, this is… it’s different, and he shouldn’t care, he shouldn’t care, he shouldn’t give the day any more power than it already has. 

So he doesn’t talk about it. 

With anyone. 

Especially not Evan, who’s doing well, who’s working hard to be healthy and happy, who’s got a new job that doesn’t want to destroy him, who’s seeing a new therapist he really likes, who doesn’t need the reminder of what Connor did to him a year ago. 

Evan keeps saying that he owes Connor, that Connor has been too kind to him, has gone above and beyond, has been an amazing friend, but Connor knows deep down that isn’t true. 

He’s just… trying to make up for the damage. 

The damage he caused. 

Fuck, the damage he’s still causing, because after the settlement he got drunk and stupid and yelled at Evan over things he shouldn’t have, things he should have moved on from, things he should have let go, and it had hurt Evan, hurt him more than he’s letting on. 

Connor can’t talk to Evan about this. 

Not this. 

Not after everything. 

* * *

Evan knew something with Connor was up. The last time Evan had visited for dinner, Connor seemed off. Distracted. A little jumpy. Not really himself. 

He hadn’t really been himself since the settlement. Since he’d gotten drunk and shouted at Evan and the two of them had the world’s most emotionally raw hangover breakfast… Evan felt like Connor was sort of withdrawing. Pulling away. And he hated that but he didn’t want to smother him, so he tried to keep a respectful distance without disappearing and honestly. 

It was exhausting. 

They were fast approaching the day when Connor woke up in the hospital. The day he could have died, probably should have died. Of course he was freaking out. Of course he looked tired and distracted. Of course he was pulling away. 

Evan… had to do something. 

He just didn’t know what. 

What did you do to help someone through a day when they nearly died and only didn’t because of some alternate universe bullshit happening? Evan had no idea. And it wasn’t like there was anybody he could ask for advice or suggestions. 

Well maybe he could ask Otis but he wasn’t sure Otis would actually be able to offer him any _practical_ advice. Maybe some cryptic yet sage words. A Shonda Rhimes quote. Maybe a cup of coffee. But no how-to guide on supporting your best friend through the anniversary of a literally impossible trauma. Evan was stuck. He didn’t know what to do. 

He just knew he had to do something. 

There was a long weekend at Evan’s new job because the 4th of July fell on a Monday this year. Evan got an early night on Friday and then got up relatively early on Saturday. Stopped to pick up bagels and coffee, and then headed to the bookstore around ten, just as the bookstore was opening. Jax was behind the counter today. They didn’t look pleased to see Evan, but they never did so Evan tried not to be offended. 

“Did you want a bagel?” Evan asked them politely, indicating the box. “I got some vegan options?”

“No,” Jax said. It wasn’t impolite, just very direct. 

“Okay,” Evan said. “See you later.”

Jax nodded. 

Evan went up the stairs and knocked on the door to Connor’s apartment. He always knocked now, even though Connor had offered to give him back his keys. Evan thought it was just… better if he knocked. 

Being friends and just friends with Connor was a bit painful sometimes. A little hard. But so much better than not knowing him at all. So much better. 

Connor opened the door pretty quickly, looking a little worse for wear. His hair was in a messy knot and his eyes were bloodshot and surrounded by dark circles. “Hi,” Connor said, looking kind of exhausted. 

“Hi,” Evan returned, trying to smile. 

“Did we… Sorry, did we make plans for today?”  
Evan shook his head. “I just want to… Uh. Check in?”

Connor raised his eyebrows. 

“You’ve seemed kind of anxious and, like, I know what this week is so… I dunno. I’m bad at this. I just wanted to check in.” Evan said quickly. “I brought bagels and coffee?”

Connor smiled at Evan. “You came to check on me?”

“Yeah,” Evan said, like it was obvious because to him it was. “You’re my best friend and this week sucks so. I came to check in. With bagels and coffee, since you’re always trying to feed me. I have to at least try to return the favor.”

Connor smiled at him. “Okay.”

He let Evan inside. They sat at the table and drank their coffee and each had a bagel. Edgar climbed up into Evan’s lap and sat there, purring happily while Evan scratched his ears. Connor complained that some neighbors down the block had lit firecrackers at four in the morning and scared Edgar while Edgar climbed up onto Evan’s shoulder and nuzzled his little kitty face against Evan’s cheek. 

“I’m sorry,” Evan said, patting Edgar apologetically. “That’s awful.”

“Also I’ve kind of been sleeping like shit.”

Evan nodded sympathetically. He hadn’t exactly been sleeping well either. “Maybe you should go back to bed for a while? Try to catch a few more hours of sleep?”

“You just got here,” Connor said, frowning. He looked so damn tired it made Evan’s heart hurt. He just wanted to cover Connor in kisses, try to make it better, and curl around him protectively until he got some rest. But he knew that wasn’t allowed now, he knew Connor didn’t want that. 

“You taking care of yourself is way more important,” Evan said. “We can hang out later. You should go back to bed. I can come back.”

Connor looked like he wanted to protest, and finally he said in this small voice, “Do you… could you stay?”

Evan felt his eyes go wide. “Oh.”

“I’m sorry I know that’s probably too much but I’ve been having nightmares and I just don’t want to be alone right now.”

“Of course I’ll stay,” Evan said, his heart squeezing hard in his chest. “I’ll totally stay. I don’t… I’m not leaving you alone unless you want to be.” 

“Thanks,” Connor said, looking grateful. Edgar hopped off of Evan’s shoulder, as if he had understood that Connor was going back to bed. 

Evan escorted him back to bed, Edgar following them close behind because he loved and protected Connor as best as his ten pounds would allow. Evan really fucking appreciated this cat. He wondered if he could give money to the cat, like, legally. Start the Edgar Allen Paw after school program or something. He had seven hundred thousand dollars sitting in his bank account, laughing at him because he didn’t want or deserve it. 

“Sleep well,” Evan said to Connor, shutting the door but not closing it all of the way. “I’ll be in the living room if you need me.”

Then he stood in the living room and considered what to do with himself. Part of him was just desperate to do something that might help, but Evan dismissed his first impulse, which was to clean his place from top to bottom, as something that might upset Connor more than it helped. 

So instead he pulled out his laptop and worked on a few of the admin tasks he had been pitching in on for The Little Book Nook and Leatherbird. He made notes for Connor about supplies he should consider ordering or reordering, calculated the monthly taxes the store owed, got a quote for the new energy efficient windows Connor was considering having installed. Since Connor had come into an additional fifteen million dollars in the last few weeks, Evan kept sort of gently encouraging him to… think bigger. Think wider, think about expanding, but Connor had just rolled his eyes and said he was getting greener windows. “Do you know how much coal is used to heat and cool places?” Connor had asked him in a teasing voice. “I need new windows and a water fountain.”

Evan did take out the recycling, however. And wash the handful of dishes in the sink. Just because sitting there doing nothing felt wrong. It felt wrong to do nothing when he knew Connor wasn’t feeling awesome. It felt wrong especially because Connor had taken such good care of Evan over the last six months or so… 

It was the least he could do. 

...And only an hour had gone by. 

Evan needed to work on being slightly less efficient. 

Not long after Evan had exhausted everything he would allow himself to do without totally overstepping the bounds of being a Good Friend and into being Someone Who Forgot They Weren’t Connor’s Boyfriend, as Connor himself had painfully reminded him a few weeks ago, Connor emerged from his room. 

He still looked really tired. 

“Hey,” Evan said, waving a little bit awkwardly from the sofa. He was currently reading a story on NPR about climate change and feeling additionally guilty that on Thursday he forgot his reusable travel mug and got a regular to-go cup from the cafe across the street from his work and they used black plastic lids and dark plastics weren’t even recyclable. “Did you get any more sleep?”

Connor shrugged, sitting down kind of heavily. “You don’t need to like. Hang around while I nap. I know that’s probably, like, super boring for you.”

The moment Connor said that, Evan felt like someone had kicked him hard in the stomach. His heart plummeted. 

Connor didn’t spit the words back, didn’t say them in a way that suggested he was being passive aggressive or hostile. He said it like it was a fact. A fact that he thought Evan was bored by being around, trying to just… help take care of Connor. 

Because when Evan broke up with him, that’s what he’d said. That it was exhausting and boring to take care of him. 

And some of that was true. Evan couldn’t pretend he’d been lying. He had been exhausted and bored when he was trying to take care of Connor, but the fact was that it had nothing to do with Connor at all and everything to do with Evan’s stupid brain not conceptualizing how to deal with trauma like everyone else did. 

He got angry. 

He felt abandoned and then angry at himself for feeling abandoned and he wore himself out before he’d even gotten around to trying to help Connor. So he felt really… empty. Sort of blank, hollow. 

He was bored because feeling empty and dead inside was… fucking boring. 

Evan had learned while he was away in treatment that all of that was pretty fucking common for someone with his diagnosis but… it didn’t undo the damage he had done when he felt that way. It wasn’t an excuse. 

An explanation, sure, but not an excuse. And it didn’t make him any less sorry for what he had done. 

Connor looked tired and stressed and Evan just… wanted to fix it. 

And he knew he couldn’t just fix this, he couldn’t take away the horrible things he had said to Connor or erase the fact that Connor nearly died a year ago. He knew that and he hated that… but he had to do something. 

“Connor I… I’ve actually been meaning to talk to you. About. That.” It came out really stunted, really awkward, and Connor’s eyes grew big at the words. “About the stuff I said when… when I broke up with you?”

Connor kept watching Evan closely, apprehensively. 

“Is that okay?” Evan asked. “I don’t want to dump a bunch of stuff on you, I just thought maybe I could…”

“Go ahead,” Connor said, sounding even more tired. 

“I am. So fucking sorry,” Evan said, trying to make sure the words had the appropriate amount of weight, that he didn’t rush through that. “I was… I was unbelievably cruel and so…. So awful to you. And I am sorry. I am truly genuinely so fucking sorry for… for the whole thing, really. For what I said and how I did it and… And doing it at all. I left you when I knew you needed me, and I know how much I fucked things up. I’m really fucking sorry. I regret so much about that time. I regret… everything. I’m so sorry. And I don’t expect you’ll forgive me for it and… and honestly, you probably shouldn’t. But I just wanted you to know how much I regret that day. I regret all of it. And I am genuinely so fucking sorry.”

Connor looked surprised, but he didn’t say anything. 

“Is it… I want to do my best to uh. To explain?” Evan said softly, trying his best to hold Connor’s gaze but constantly having to drop his eyes. “It’s not… Not to like. Try to give you an excuse or-or whatever. There is… there is no excuse for what I did. No worthy explanation. But… I think I owe it to you to tell you what happened for me?” He cleared his throat. “It doesn’t need to be now, I just -”

“You can tell me now,” Connor said, his voice a bit shaky. “I’d like to hear it now.”

Evan nodded, stealing himself. Straightening his shoulders. “I uh…” He cleared his throat. “Again, I’m not saying this as an excuse…at all. What I did was inexcusable. But. Uh. When things get bad for me? I’m kind of… I’m kind of always exhausted or-or, uh, bored? I get… I get like. It’s like… sometimes I feel so much that I, like. Go numb? And it turns into this sort of. Emptiness? Like I feel so much that it basically… short circuits me. Turns everything off. So I feel totally… empty. I feel, like, nothing? And when that happens, it’s like… I know objectively it won’t last but feels like it’s permanent? Like I’ll always feel just. Nothing. Like I’ll always just be numb to what’s going on around me. And, well… it’s really fucking boring to just feel empty all of the time? It’s so damn boring to feel nothing. But what I’m saying is that. It. It wasn’t  _ you _ . It wasn’t because of you at all. I wasn’t bored because of you, because I was taking care of you, I wanted to take care of you, I wanted you to get healthier and we’ll again but I. I was bored because I let a lot of my stuff get… out of control. Because I felt nothing and I tried to hide it. And I’m so sorry I said that to you, blamed you for that, because it had absolutely  _ nothing _ to do with you. You didn’t choose to get sick and I… I was selfish and horrible and I am so sorry I said that to you. I am truly sorry.”

Connor nodded, looking unsure still. 

“There’s this other thing… that um. Oliver? He’s talked me through it a lot. I’m probably not going to explain it well but… It’s called splitting? That’s what Oliver called it at least. It’s sort of… viewing things in total black and white terms?” Evan cleared his throat. “It’s uh. It’s a BPD thing. And I was doing that. I was doing that a lot when you weren’t well… I started to see you being sick last year in-in black and white. And I blamed myself for what happened so I… I thought the only way to keep you safe was to keep you as far away from me as possible. That the only way to stop you from l-leaving me again was to leave you first. I thought… It felt like nothing would  _ ever _ be better. I thought I was always going to… always going to be like this. I was only going to hurt you and you were only going to hurt me. So I thought I had to leave. And I knew you wouldn’t let me do that. I know how stubborn you are and I thought you wouldn’t let me go unless I…. Unless I ruined it. Unless I said some stuff that I couldn’t come back from.” Evan hung his head, unable to look at Connor for a minute. “And I am so sorry. Because I genuinely didn’t… didn’t mean most of what I said. I was just… I was trying to hurt you. On purpose. And I am so damn sorry. There is no excuse for what I did.”

Connor said nothing.

“I’m so ashamed of myself for how much I hurt you,” Evan said. “And I am so… so sorry that I… that I chose to do it. There’s no explanation in the world that will make up for what I did and I am truly, truly so sorry.” Evan distantly noticed he had begun to cry. He wiped his face, embarrassed. “I’m just really fucking sorry. I can’t even begin to express how much it means to me that you even still speak to me after that. I was cruel and-and horrible, and I am so sorry. Really. I am so sorry. I should have never… Never treated you like… like you didn’t matter. Because you’re the most important person in my life, Connor, and you matter so much to me. I am so fucking sorry. You deserved so much better… you deserve everything and I am really sorry.”


	158. ONE HUNDRED AND FIFTY-SEVEN

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> "You broke my heart."

Evan’s crying and Connor just wants to hold him and make things better, but he can’t, because he’s paralyzed, his brain is in overdrive trying to process things, trying to process what Evan’s saying about last year, trying to make it make sense in his brain with what he said then, and it’s this weird dissonance, it’s confusing and it’s heartbreaking and it hurts and he hates that Evan’s crying but he doesn’t know what to say. 

Doesn’t know what to say. 

He’s exhausted and he doesn’t think he can lie. Doesn’t think he can hide. 

“Thank you?” he manages to say. “For… for trying to explain? I…”

He trails off. 

He’s tired.

He’s…

“I kept trying to figure out what I did wrong, I…” Connor blinks a few times, trying desperately not to cry. “I know I’m not great at… I’d never been in a relationship before, so I just figured that it had to be me, there had to be…”

“No,” Evan says, and he’s insistent, almost desperate. “No, it was absolutely not on you, it was not your fault at all.”

“You broke my heart.”

Fuck. 

Fuck. 

Connor did not mean to say that. 

He never wants to say that, never wants to admit that because it’s not important, how he feels isn’t important, Evan’s been through enough and he doesn’t…

“I am so fucking sorry, Connor. I…”

“It’s not important,” Connor mumbles, wiping his face. “That’s not important now, there’s no sense obsessing over the past-”

“Of course it’s important,” Evan interrupts. “I am so, so, so sorry I hurt you, Connor, I… I could say it a million times and it still wouldn’t be enough, I am just so fucking sorry.”

“It is what it is,” Connor says, trying to hold it together, trying to hold it all in, because that’s what he’s been doing for the last six months and it’s not fair to just fall apart now, especially after he’s already lost it on Evan once, he’s already gotten drunk and stupid and mean and hurt him. 

He can’t make this Evan’s problem. 

This isn’t Evan’s problem. 

“I am so, so, so sorry. I’m so sorry.”

“I know,” Connor says, because he believes him. He believes that he’s sorry.

He believes that Evan cares about him, he believes that he’s sorry that he hurt him. 

He believes that Evan cares, even though he’s not in love with him anymore. 

Not the way Connor’s in love with Evan. 

The questions are on the tip of his tongue. 

_ When did it happen? _

_ When did you stop loving me the way that I love you? _

_ When did you fall out of love with me? _

He’s spent nearly a year trying to make sense of it. Nearly a year trying to pin down the moment, trying to figure it out, trying to see where he went wrong, what he could have done differently.

He can’t figure it out. 

He doesn’t know. 

He doesn’t know if knowing would help. 

Evan’s crying and Connor’s trying not to and…

There’s no way he can ask Evan those questions. Not now. 

He blinks a few times, trying to keep it together. 

“I dreamed about my funeral.”

Evan looks at him, his eyes wide and terrified. “When?” 

“Not long after I came back,” Connor admits. “Not long after I woke up. It was…” He lets out this shaky breath. “It wasn’t a dream, Evan, because Otis remembers it, too. I think it was another timeline, and if it was another timeline then that means that I went to my own fucking funeral, and that… it’s messing with my head, I can’t stop thinking about it.”

Evan just keeps staring at him. “I could see you,” he says quietly. 

Connor nods. “You were the only one who could.”

It takes a moment for the reality of what Evan’s saying to properly sink in. 

“What do you mean you could see me?” Connor asks, this awful buzzing feeling in the back of his head, strange and unreal. “Were you…”

“I was there too,” Evan says, his voice thick and rough. “I remember seeing you. Being so sure I was going crazy. Hallucinating you at your own funeral. I…”

“Oh my god.”

“It felt real,” Evan says slowly, “because it was real.”

* * *

Evan felt like his heart was going to hammer through his lungs, make a break for it to escape his ribs. He was still reeling from Connor confessing that Evan had broken his heart, but then… 

Connor had dreamed it too. Connor had seen it too. Connor had been there too. At the funeral.

Because it had been real. 

Because they’d both seen it, because Otis had seen it. It had been real. Evan knew that now. He knew it in his gut, the way he knew the loops had been real, the way he knew this conversation he was having with Connor was real. 

It was real it had happened. Evan knew that.

They had both seen Connor’s funeral. And it had been horrible. 

It wasn’t fair that Connor saw that. It wasn’t fair at all. 

“Is that why… why you can’t sleep?” Evan asked Connor. 

Connor nodded. 

“I’m so sorry.” Evan sniffed and wiped his eyes. “It was fucking horrible, I… uh. I didn’t know how the wheelchair drive thru story ended. Until then. I…” He wiped his face. “I didn’t know how it ended.”

Connor nodded. Then his face crumpled. “I was dead… I died. And it was real.”

Evan swallowed hard. “Yeah,” he said, his heart in his throat. 

Connor sniffed, his eyes filling with tears. Fuck. Evan hated it when Connor cried. He hated it. Evan wanted to pull him into a hug, he wanted to hold Connor and let him cry, let him feel safe and loved but it wasn’t… it wasn’t the time. Now was not the time to be thinking that way. It was not the time for Evan’s feelings, now was not the time for Evan to tell him that he was still totally in love with Connor, because right now. 

Right now Connor needed Evan to be his friend. 

So he could be his friend. 

He sucked in a deep breath. 

“I… I didn’t believe you. When you told me at the funeral… how you got back. I didn’t believe you and I am so fucking sorry,” Evan said. “I thought it was a dream. I thought… I thought I was hallucinating you. I don’t… I’m sorry. I’m really sorry.”

Connor shook his head. “You always think you’re hallucinating me,” He said, his voice small. 

“I know,” Evan said, frowning. “I know and I’m… I’m sorry. That’s my fucked up brain, that’s… I stop feeling like stuff is real when I’m scared or stressed, and I’m...I’m sorry.” He cleared his throat. “I’m sorry and I’ve been working on it. I promise. I know you’re real, and I’m going to… try to make sure I never think you’re not again. But I know you’re real right now. I know this is real. You’re real.” 

Connor watched him with big, tearful eyes. “You said you were going to… you were going to die, you told me -”

“I know,” Evan said softly. “I know. I’m so sorry, Connor. I am so fucking sorry. I… I know I was. I was a mess. And I’m so fucking sorry. About all of it. All of it.” 

Connor nodded. 

“I…” Evan stopped himself. He stopped himself. He stopped himself from pulling Connor in for a tight hug. From covering him in kisses. From trying to hold him and take care of him and letting him feel whatever he was feeling right now. 

He loved Connor and he wanted to say it but… today was not the time. It was not the time. “I’m really… really sorry,” He said finally. “There was no reason why I treated you how I did after that. I just… fucked up. I got scared and I fucked up because fucking that up was easier than trying to tell someone I was… That I was like this.” He wiped his face. “But this is not about me, okay? It’s not. I am really sorry. It’s not about me or my shit. Frankly, the last six months have been about my shit and that’s… so not fair to you.” He cleared his throat. “You’re… you’re my best friend. You’re the most important person in my life and I… It just feels like recently, like you’ve been, like. Holding back? And. I know that I fucked everything up, and I know in the past I wasn’t here for you when you needed me but. I want to be here for you now. Because it sounds unbelievably scary to watch your own funeral and…God, I can’t even imagine what that must be like for you. But I'm here. For you. Okay? And it’s… it’s okay if you don’t want me. I know I haven’t earned your trust back after what I did. But I want to be here for you now. If you’ll let me?”

* * *

Connor nods. “Okay.” He tries to smile. “I… if you’re sure? I know it was… that you have your stuff to deal with and you  _ say _ that it wasn’t about me but I just…” He sighs, trying to make what he’s saying make sense. “I don’t want to put you in a position where you have to take care of me. Not after the coma and… getting drunk on you after the settlement.” He laughs hollowly. “You’ll never have to take care of me again if I can help it. I…”

_ I don’t want to lose you.  _

_ I can’t lose you again.  _

_ My heart won’t take it.  _

_ I know you’re not mine, I know that I know that, but this is better, it’s so much better than it was before, and I can’t lose you. _

Evan blinks, his eyelashes still wet. “I am so fucking sorry. I don’t… you’re not…” He looks like he’s trying to explain. “I know that I don’t  _ have  _ to take care of you. I know. But I want to? Because you’ve done so much for me.”

Connor shakes his head. “You don’t owe me any-”

“Connor.” 

Evan looks at him, his eyes red, his face wet, but his gaze steady. Unrelenting. 

Sure. 

He looks… sure. 

“What can I do?”

“Can I have a hug?” Connor asks, his voice so quiet. “It’s okay if you don’t want to or-”

He doesn’t get a chance to continue before Evan’s arms are around him, holding him tightly. He’s thinner than he was, but he’s strong and steady and he smells the same as he always did, the way Connor remembers him, and Connor doesn’t have any fight in him anymore. 

So he stops fighting. Stops trying to hold back his feelings and just… lets himself feel it. 

The horror of seeing his own funeral. 

The knowledge that it happened. That he died, that he stayed dead, and the people he loved had to mourn him. 

The fear of the future, the fear that maybe they can never escape this. Whatever  _ this _ is, this thing that caused them to loop, to die together, that keeps on sending them both into the weird, surreal and unexpected. 

The heartbreak he’s been carrying around for over a year now, ever since he first ended up in that other universe. The heartbreak of losing Evan, in every way you could possibly lose someone. 

The bittersweet feeling of having him back, but it not being the same, because how can Evan be expected to still feel the same way for Connor after all this time? After everything he’s been through, how much he’s suffered?

At least he’s here. At least he’s still here. 

Connor is just…

So fucking glad he’s still here. 

Evan just holds him as he cries. Holds him tightly. Rubs his back and murmurs comforting things, things that Connor doesn’t quite hear or understand, things that Connor can’t quite make out, except for one. 

“I’ve got you. It’s okay, I’ve got you.”

* * *

Connor cried for a long time. And Evan just… stayed. He just stayed and held onto him, as tight as he dared, for a long time. Part of him couldn’t believe he was allowed this close, allowed to touch Connor like this again. Even if it was completely platonic, they’d really only properly hugged a few times since they started to talk again, like the day Connor and Evan’s mom dropped him off at the treatment facility. He wanted to memorize the feeling of Connor against him, of the way his cold hands pressed into Evan’s back and held on, the way he smelled the same, like sandalwood and his brand of conditioner. Like… home, Evan always thought. 

But that wasn’t… that wasn’t the sort of thing he should be thinking about right now. He shouldn’t be thinking of Connor that way because this was bigger than Evan and Connor’s broken romantic relationship, this was bigger than them. He needed to be here, be present. He rubbed Connor’s back and just talked to him, quiet and gentle, letting Connor know that despite everything, Evan wasn’t running away this time. He wasn’t going anywhere. Not if he could help it. He was staying right here, just like Connor had done for him. He was staying, as long as Connor needed. 

“Sorry,” Connor said, pulling away, finally, and wiping his eyes. “Sorry, I…”

“No,” Evan said. “Please don’t apologize. You’re okay. You… I can’t even imagine how you’re feeling right now. But you’re allowed to feel it, whatever it is. And I’m here. I’m here for you, okay?”

“Okay,” Connor said in this sad and small voice. 

He looked so tired. 

“Do you think you could sleep some more?” Evan asked him. “You… you just look kind of exhausted?”

Connor sighed. “I don’t… You’re here and I -”

“I’m not going anywhere,” Evan said. “I can stick around. I… I’ll borrow a book or something? I just want to… You shouldn’t have to be alone.” He cleared his throat. “Unless you’d rather I go? I can go if you don’t want me h-”

“Stay,” Connor said, his voice soft but urgent. “Please stay.”

“Okay,” Evan said. “So… grab a little more sleep? And when you wake up, we’ll get some food or something?”

“Okay,” Connor said with a soft smile. 

“I’ll pay,” They both said at the same time. 

Evan laughed sheepishly. “We’ll argue about it when you wake up okay?”

Connor smiled at him. “Okay.” 

_ I love you so much,  _ Evan thought at Connor’s retreating back.  _ I’ll never stop loving you.  _

But he didn’t say it because now wasn’t the time. 

Now wasn’t the right time. 

There probably wouldn’t be a right time. 

But he knew it definitely wasn’t today. 

_ “You broke my heart.” _

There probably wouldn’t ever be a time… 

_ “You broke my heart.” _

_ “You broke my heart.” _

_ “You broke my heart.” _

Fuck. 

It wasn’t news to Evan. He had… he had done it to end things, he had done it to make sure Connor never wanted him again and… 

He’d broken Connor’s heart. 

And his own. 

And Evan still loved Connor. Deeply. In an all-consuming, never going to stop loving him sort of way.

He wanted to tell him. But. 

Absolutely not today. 

Potentially not ever. 

Fuck. 


	159. ONE HUNDRED AND FIFTY-EIGHT

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> “I love you. I have always loved you. I’ll never stop loving you."

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> You may have noted that the rating on this fic and the tags have been updated. That is because of this chapter. Please be aware of explicit content ahead. :)

Having Evan around helps, Connor has to admit, even though sometimes it drives him fucking crazy because he’s still stupidly in love with him. Evan sticks around for most of the weekend and they just… hang out, really. Watch a lot of television. Eat a lot of Mexican food. At one point, they even go for a walk to the bodega and get bomb pops, which are delicious, but also nearly break Connor because he remembers getting them with Evan just over 2 years ago when they decided they really wanted them in the middle of the night after having sex. 

On Monday afternoon, Evan finally heads home. He’s got some things to do before heading back to work the next day, he says, but he looks genuinely sad about leaving.

Connor’s genuinely sad to see him go. 

He thinks about the dream where he thought about asking Evan to move in. 

Thinks about the dream where he did ask Evan to move in with him. 

Remembers suddenly that Evan had a similar dream. 

Was it… the same dream?

Connor doesn’t know how he’d even ask that. 

He doesn’t really want to go to sleep that night, because he’s afraid he’ll be wrestling with nightmares of his funeral, the way he has been for weeks. He expects to take ages to fall asleep, to lie awake and freak out, but somehow, sleep is easy to come by. 

He’s asleep almost as soon as his head hits the pillow. 

“Hooooooooooooooooooot.”

Connor flops down on the bed, over Evan’s legs, trying to get his attention. Evan’s working, despite the fact that it’s a federal fucking holiday, because of course he is. 

Not for long, though, if Connor has anything to say about it. 

“Yes you are,” says Evan, stubbornly not looking up from his computer. “You are extremely hot.”

Connor raises his eyebrows. “You can’t flirt with me and… file a fish report or whatever the fuck it is you’re doing. It’s not fair.”

Evan does look up at that. “A fish report?”

Connor scrunches up his nose. “I don’t know what you’re doing. All I know is that it’s a holiday and you’re not paying attention to me.”

Evan lets out this laugh that makes Connor’s insides warm. “You know, it’s funny that everyone sees you as a cat person, because you’re basically a large gangly puppy who wants attention.”

“If I agree with you, will you put away your laptop and pay attention to me?”

Evan’s grin changes. “Depends,” he says, in this tone that Connor knows so well. “If you can behave yourself. Be a good boy.”

Connor’s completely aware that he’s not really helping with the puppy comparisons, but he doesn’t think he cares right now. “I can behave,” he promises, sitting up and looking at Evan attentively. “I can be good for you.”

Evan looks at him and his eyes go dark. He bites his lip.

Closes his laptop. 

Success.

“Take off your shirt,” Evan says, his voice rough, looking Connor up and down hungrily. 

“Yes sir,” Connor replies eagerly, nearly hitting himself in the face in his hurry to obey. 

He can hear Evan laugh as he pulls the shirt over his head, and once he’s free Evan climbs on top of him, straddles him and presses his body against Connor’s in a searing kiss. Connor can feel him getting hard and reaches down to stroke him through his shorts, but Evan it seems isn’t having that. 

Instead, Evan takes Connor’s hands and pins him to the mattress by his wrists then presses kisses up Connor’s neck, along his collarbone, leaving Connor helpless to do anything but moan at how good it feels to have Evan’s body on his, to have his lips on his neck, fuck fuck fuck, it’s so fucking good.

Evan lets go of Connor’s wrists just long enough to pull off his own shirt, then kisses his way down Connor’s chest, undoing his jeans and pulling them off along with his underwear. Connor thinks he’s going to lose his fucking mind when Evan takes him in his mouth, running his tongue across the tip of his cock, looking up at Connor with his dark eyes burning. 

“Fuck,” Connor gasps. “Feels so good, fuck, Evan, oh my god.”

Evan licks Connor’s cock again, then pulls away and looks at him, lips red and slick with spit. “I’m going to fuck you,” he says, his tone so fucking confident. “So you need to be good for me and not come until I say so. Can you do that?”

Connor has no fucking idea. 

“Yes,” he gasps. “Yes sir, I can be good.”

Evan smirks. “Good boy.”

With that, Evan directs his attention back to Connor’s cock, and holy shit does he have a talented mouth. Connor feels like he’s going to fall apart, like he’s going to dissolve into a million pieces, and nothing else matters but how good this feels, how good this feels and how he has to be good and not come, even though Evan’s blowing him so beautifully that Connor has no idea how he’s going to hold off. 

God, he’s missed this.

Connor stops a moment to consider the thought. 

That…

They’ve spent pretty much the entire long weekend having sex, so it’s a weird thought to be having, but Connor’s struck by this feeling that he hasn’t had this in so long, that he hasn’t felt this in an incredibly long time, and it distracts him for a moment. 

Then Evan presses hot kisses along his hip bone and licks him slowly and Connor’s back in the moment, here and now, where he’s trying to be good and not come even though he’s already so fucking close. 

“Please,” he finds himself saying, begging. “Please, Evan.”

“Please what?” asks Evan, looking up at Connor, his eyes dark and teasing. “What do you want, love? You have to ask.”

“Please fuck me,” Connor begs. “Evan, holy shit.”

Evan wraps his hand around Connor’s cock and strokes him slowly, his face an exaggerated parody of consideration. “Hmm,” he says after a moment. “I don’t think you want it enough.”

“I do,” Connor says immediately. “Please, please fuck me, holy shit, I’ll do anything you want, just please fuck me.”

Evan grins. “Get on your hands and knees for me.”

Connor obeys without question. 

He can hear Evan taking off his shorts and reaching into the bedside table for condoms and lube. It’s not long before Connor feels Evan’s finger at his hole, lube-slick and a little cold. He tries to concentrate on staying on his hands and knees, tries to ignore his throbbing cock and Evan’s talented fingers and just concentrate on being good, on doing what he’s told. 

Fuck, Evan’s good with his fingers, holy shit. 

Connor whimpers a little as Evan presses against his prostate again and again. 

Holy fucking shit. 

“You’re doing so well,” says Evan in Connor’s ear, before kissing his neck hungrily. “Taking my fingers so beautifully. But you want to be fucked, don’t you love?”

“Yes,” Connor begs. “Please, Evan, please fuck me.”

“I think you can ask me nicer than that,” Evan purrs, kissing Connor’s neck again, then using his free hand to tug at Connor’s hair. 

“Please fuck me,” Connor pleads, breathless and panting, knowing he sounds desperate but not caring at all. “Please please fuck me, holy shit, Evan, I love you so much I love you I love you I need you to fuck me hard please please please-”

“So good for me,” Evan says, pulling Connor’s hair again and kissing Connor hard on the lips, his tongue exploring his mouth. 

Fuck, Connor loves this, he loves it so much. 

He loves him so much. 

So fucking much. 

And then Evan’s cock is inside him, slow at first, then faster and faster, and Evan’s pressing himself against Connor, reaching around to stroke his cock, whispering filthy things into his ear, telling him he’s a good boy, telling him how much he loves him. 

“Fuck, you’re so good,” Evan pants, stroking Connor’s cock faster. “Are you close, love?”

“Yeah,” Connor says, feeling almost dizzy with pleasure. “I… fuck, Evan, please.”

“Do you want to come for me?”

“Yes sir, please, please let me come.”

Evan kisses his neck. “Do you think you’ve been good enough to come?” he asks, before kissing Connor’s neck again. “Do you think you’ve been good for me?”

“Wanna be good for you,” Connor replies immediately, because it’s all he fucking wants. “Want to make you feel good, make you happy, please please please.”

“You make me so happy,” Evan says, and he’s breathless as well, panting and fucking Connor so well, so incredibly. “You’re so beautiful. So fucking good for me.”

“Please,” Connor almost sobs. “Please, Evan, I love you I love you I love you-”

“Come for me,” Evan says in his ear, pulling Connor’s hair hard. “Let go love and come hard for me.”

It’s like Connor’s body knows not to disobey, because he’s coming so fucking hard at Evan’s command, and he can hear Evan moaning behind him and knows he’s not far behind, and Evan fucks him so well as he comes, telling him how good he is and how loved he is and it feels like forever, it feels like this never-ending moment of pleasure, and he’s missed this he’s missed this he’s missed this…

Connor lies back on the bed, boneless and content, and Evan grabs a washcloth and helps clean him up, then pulls Connor close to him, kissing his face, his neck, his forehead. 

“I love you,” Evan says softly as Connor moves in closer, pressing a gentle kiss on his collarbone. “I have always loved you. I’ll never stop loving you. You’re so fucking amazing, I can’t believe I get to keep you.”

“Keep me,” Connor says immediately, like he’s asking, like he’s demanding. “Keep me, okay? I’m not going anywhere if I can help it.”

“Okay,” says Evan, and he sounds like he might cry. 

Connor feels like he might cry as well.

Evan holds him tight, tight against him, and Connor fades into sleep. 

And wakes up in his bed. 

Alone. 

It takes him a moment to realize he’d been dreaming. 

That it hadn’t been real, it had just been…

He rubs his face. 

He can’t know for sure that it wasn’t real. That’s the problem. 

He’s had dreams that were real before. What’s to say that this isn’t one of them?

He just hopes Evan, the Evan in this universe, didn’t have this dream as well. That would be… 

Humiliating. 

Completely and utterly humiliating when it’s so fucking obvious that Evan doesn’t want him. This Evan, the Evan in this universe, the Evan he can really see and touch, doesn’t want him. 

Maybe he was dreaming of another universe. 

_ Maybe it’s a universe where we’re happy. _

He doesn’t know if that’s better or worse.

* * *

Evan needed to get it together but he was extremely distracted all day on both Tuesday and Wednesday because of that fucking dream.

He couldn’t stop thinking about it. 

Partly because he… he didn’t feel like the Evan in that dream. He didn’t feel like someone who could even command that sort of energy, could ever take charge like that, perform that sort of confidence. 

That had been a front for a long time and it was weird to imagine putting that back on. 

But the more pressing issue was the fact that Evan had had a straight up filthy dream about Connor. Connor, who Evan was working extremely hard to be just friends with. Connor, who Evan was still totally and completely in love with. Connor, who was dealing with the upcoming anniversary of his almost death, who needed Evan to be a steady person and not a pathetic panting horndog who could only think about the feeling of Connor’s wrists pinned to the mattress, the taste of his cock in Evan’s mouth, the sound of him begging and begging to come… 

Fuck. 

Fucking hell. 

Connor needed a friend right now and Evan was… lusting after him after a fucking sex dream like a teenager. 

He needed to focus. 

He needed to be a decent fucking person and stop using sex as a distraction from pain. 

Damn it. 

Fuck. 

So on Wednesday after work, Evan dragged himself back to his new apartment and showered and changed into jeans and a blue shirt, going for casual but not his psychiatric hospital jeans-and-hoodie uniform. Evan also threw on his glasses because there was nothing sexy or attractive about these glasses, these glasses absolutely made him look dorky and he was hoping to exude an aura of not thinking about fucking Connor as best as he could so… Dork uniform was activated in the form of his glasses. 

Evan stopped on his way to Connor’s to pick up Mexican food from the place that Connor liked with the chicken burrito, even though they had like… one kosher thing on the whole menu and tended to oversalt their beans like nobody’s business. 

But Connor liked the chicken burrito so Evan stopped there and got them dinner. When he arrived at Connor’s apartment, Connor gave him this long, strange look and for a moment Evan thought Connor might hug him. 

He was grateful when Connor didn’t commit to a hug, however, because then Evan definitely would have disintegrated or evaporated or launched himself into the sun because if Connor touched him Evan knew he would do something fucking stupid like try to kiss him and Evan was just here as Connor’s friend. 

Even though that was excruciating. 

Even though he was just basically begging his dick to cooperate and not announce his inner thoughts to Connor every time Connor looked his way. 

Of course, Evan didn’t even think about the fact that he and Connor had apparently had a few of the same dreams before until he was sitting beside Connor on the sofa, pretending to watch Parks and Rec. Fuck, he hoped Connor had not had that dream. They’d both had the funeral dream and… if they shared this one… That would be mortifying. Too much. He would never be able to look Connor in the eye again if Connor had also dreamt about Evan topping him aggressively, bossing him around and fucking him, Connor being such a good boy taking Evan so well, begging to come, his cock leaking in Evan’s hand… 

Fuck. 

Evan had managed to get fucking sour cream on his glasses because he totally missed his mouth trying to eat this overly salty quesadilla and the sour cream basically squirted him in the eye. 

Fucking hell. 


	160. ON HUNDRED AND FIFTY-NINE

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> "Turns out scars aren’t nearly as sexy as they make them out to be in the movies.”

“Ugh,” Evan said, putting down his food, taking off the glasses and grabbing a napkin to clean up the mess he had made. “How is it even possible to get sour cream on my glasses, what the fuck?” He lifted the hem of his shirt up to clean the lens, trying to rub away the streaks. 

“I have no idea,” Connor said and Evan realized he was watching him closely. 

Evan felt his face get hot as he realized Connor was looking at his stomach. Evan pulled the hem of his shirt down quickly, embarrassed, and put his glasses back on awkwardly. Fuck. Fuck he didn’t want Connor looking at him he was… all weird looking now. He didn’t look like himself, he was bony where he had never been bony before and pale and… Evan didn’t want him looking at that. He didn’t want to show his shrunken and strange body to anyone. 

Connor seemed to catch himself staring. “I like that shirt on you,” Connor said with a small smile. “It’s really nice. Fits you really well. You look really good.”

“Thank you?” Evan said, unsure what to make of that. Was… Connor wasn’t checking him out, was he? 

No he wasn’t. Evan was just… projecting. He wasn’t… Was he?

“You’ve put some weight back on,” Connor went on, still looking at Evan with this totally unreadable expression. “It’s really good. Really good. You look… really good.” 

Fuck. 

Connor… 

Connor might have been teasing but it still sort of hurt. Evan pinched the hem of his shirt awkwardly, hoping it covered all of his skin back up, hoping it would make Connor look away because he knew… Evan knew what he looked like. 

“You’re looking way healthier,” Connor said with this sort of assessing tone. He gave Evan a lopsided smile. “Meanwhile here I am with my noodle limbs that refuse to get… less noodley, no matter what I do.” 

That wasn’t right, Evan thought. Connor looked loads better than he had when Evan… when Evan had left. “You’re looking healthier, too,” Evan said softly. “And… you’ve put weight back on as well. You… you also look really good.”

Fuck. 

That last part just… slipped out. 

It _was_ true. Connor did look good. His skin didn’t look waxy or sunken or overly pale anymore. His hair was lustrous and well kept again. And he had gained back a lot of the weight he had lost, which Evan knew was a good thing. When Connor got home he was dangerously thin. Now he was still too skinny, but closer to his pre-coma self, who was too skinny but not in a way that made Evan worry about breaking him in half. 

But Connor did look good. And he only looked better when his cheeks flushed pink at Evan’s words. 

Fuck. 

“Go us. Bouncing back.” Connor gave Evan an almost shy smile. “But especially you. Pretty soon you’ll be having to fight off cute guys with a stick.” 

Evan’s brain stopped in its tracks. What?

Connor kept going, “Guys and girls and nonbinary folks. All of them.” He smiled really widely. “I guess the dating pool is more of an ocean when you’re a hot bisexual.”

Evan felt his face heating up and he couldn’t be hearing this… he could not be hearing this because it almost sounded like Connor was fucking flirting with him and he knew that could not be happening. 

“We’ll have to get you a stick as well,” Evan said stupidly. “For the guys. That you will be hitting with a stick.” Fuck. “That came out weird.”

“I’m not much of a sadist,” Connor said and Evan felt his face flame even more considerably because holy shit holy fuck it was like Connor was trying to kill him. 

Fuck. 

Fuck Evan needed to… to take a cold shower or-or run away screaming or something because he was so unbelievably turned on right now that he thought he might actually die. 

“And I don’t think the stick will be necessary,” Connor said, his words fast like he was hurrying to explain. “I haven’t had sex in a year.”

_What?_

It was like a record genuinely scratched in Evan’s brain. 

Connor and Nate… hadn’t slept together? But they had gone out from January to May, they had gone on double dates, they had…. What. “You haven’t?” Evan heard himself asking, too curious for his own good, fuck. 

Connor shook his head. “No. Turns out scars aren’t nearly as sexy as they make them out to be in the movies.”

Everything faded to a dull whine. 

Oh. 

Oh. Right. 

Oh. 

Right. 

Of course. 

Connor wasn’t flirting, Connor wasn’t interested in Evan, Connor… Connor probably thought Evan was disgusting and damaged and disfigured and gross and of course he wasn’t flirting fuck Evan was so stupid. He was just so stupid for even daring to think for even a second, even for a moment, that Connor could ever want someone as fucked up and broken as him. Someone who had hurt him and themself so much.

Evan felt a lump rise in his throat.

Fuck. 

He was so fucking stupid. 

Evan gingerly tugged the rolled up sleeves of his shirt back down his arms, pulling the cuffs down and buttoning them, hiding away the proof of the damage he had done to himself, tucking the scars behind a curtain of blue, feeling extremely ashamed of his scarred and ruined body. 

He knew what he looked like now. He knew what he had done to himself. How he was too thin, too stringy and strange looking now. How scarred and marked up and obvious he was, how undeniable his pain was… The fact that it was obvious, so obvious that he had been burning himself for ages, how utterly undeniable his methods had been. He knew what he looked like, how clearly broken and obvious and stupid Evan had been.

He… Evan had just hoped that maybe that wasn’t how Connor saw him. 

But he wasn’t surprised to learn that it was.

Fuck. 

Fuck that hurt. 

It hurt more than he could stand.

Evan tried hard to swallow the lump in his throat, to button up his sleeves and hide, to look away and not break down. 

Connor looked so damn sad. He rushed to explain, “I meant the huge fucking scars on my stomach.” He looked down at the bottom of his shirt awkwardly. “Seriously, the main one is fucking huge, and it didn’t heal well at all so it’s kind of gruesome looking these days.” 

Fuck. 

Fuck. 

Evan felt tendrils of anger come to life inside of him, flames flickering into a blaze. 

Had… nobody had made Connor feel bad about his scars, had they? If Nate had hurt him, Evan would hunt him down and shove his fist down his throat. Connor couldn’t help having needed an operation, he didn’t choose a coma and an infection. Fuck Nate. Fuck him if he said something to Connor… Evan would kick his teeth in. He’d kill him with his bare hands. “Did… did Nate say something about your scars?”

Connor’s eyes went big. “No! No, he didn’t, I just…I wasn’t… I wasn’t comfortable showing him? So we just… didn’t have sex.” Connor looked away, embarrassed and shoving the last bite of his burrito into his mouth. 

Evan tried to press on, trying to push through the sudden burst of anger inside him. “I’m sure they’re not that bad,” He said, hesitantly. “They were… last time I saw them, they were healing?”

Fuck. 

He’d spoken before his brain had caught up with his mouth. Fuck. He was stupid, that was stupid. Why would he say that? The last time Evan had seen Connor’s scars he had been helping him to shower because Connor wasn’t strong enough yet to do it on his own. 

Why would he say that why the fuck would he mention that?

The surgical scar had been healing but still for fuck’s sake.

“You don’t have to lie,” Connor said, his voice soft, almost like he was trying to comfort Evan. “I know… I know it was disgusting. That I was a fucking mess when I got out of the coma. Like, physically a total mess from the surgery and the weight loss and… I know I was disgusting.”

“You weren’t,” Evan said, shaking his head frantically because that was categorically not true. 

“It’s fine-”

“You weren’t,” Evan said firmly, trying to make sure he got his point across, draw on some of the confidence he used to put on so easily. “That’s… no, Connor, you weren’t disgusting. You’re _not_ disgusting.” Because he wasn’t, he had been through hell, he had been through illness and another reality and nearly dying, Connor had been through so much and Evan… Evan had just. Hurt himself a lot. He was the one who wasn’t fit for public consumption, he was the one who was disfigured and scarred, the one who had ruined his whole physicality because he hadn’t planned to keep needing it. “If anyone’s disgusting these days, it’s me. I managed to just… fucking destroy my whole body, and I don’t have surgery and a coma as excuses-”

“You’re not disgusting,” Connor said, his voice almost urgent. “Nowhere near it. The exact opposite, in fact. You’re…”

A long silence filled the air while Evan waited to hear what he was to Connor. 

“You’re hot,” Connor said finally. “Like you’ve always been.” Liar. He was lying. “Still super hot.” Connor grinned at Evan, all cheeky. “All the guys and gals and non-binary pals had better watch out when you start putting yourself out there again.”

What the fuck was Connor talking about. 

Evan… Evan wasn’t putting himself anywhere. He didn’t want anybody else, he thought that he had been pretty fucking obvious about that, he… 

Needed to change the subject. 

“I’m sure the scarring isn’t that bad,” Evan said, shifting gears.

“Trust me,” Connor said, his tone serious. “It’s still pretty bad.”

And then he pulled up the bottom of his shirt and revealed his scars to Evan, like he was showing off, brazen and bold, like he was displaying a war wound. 

In some ways, Evan realized he was. 

It was still pink. Pinker than most year old scars Evan had seen. There was a decent sized incision mark, spanning a good piece of real estate on Connor’s abdomen. 

It really wasn’t that bad, though. Connor had made it sound gruesome and terrifying, but it wasn’t that bad. It was so much better than it had looked right after the surgery. So much better than it looked when Connor had first gotten home. It was healed up well, but there were still pink lines that had sliced Connor’s middle and Evan… hated how much pain it probably caused him. How much it had caused them both. 

Evan just looked, oddly transfixed, unable to tear his eyes away from Connor’s stomach, from his scars. 

Connor looked embarrassed, but he kept talking. Putting on a brave face. Evan realized the confidence before had been a front. “I looked up pictures of appendectomy scars online once. They’re all way smaller than this one. But because it burst and got so infected and they had to deal with the infection, it’s… worse. Way worse.” Connor looked up and met Evan’s eye. “Not exactly super sexy.”

Evan bit his lip, trying to contain the urge to… to touch Connor. 

But before he even realized what he was doing, his fingers reached out and gently, cautiously, rested against the scars. Connor’s skin was mercifully, miraculously warm under Evan’s touch. Evan let his fingers gently trace each of the intricate lines in a few places, paying special attention to the places where the scars intersected, aligned, a reminder of too much pain too much emotional space and energy. 

Evan touched Connor reverently, softly, relishing the feeling of his raised skin beneath his fingers. Savoring the warmth of Connor’s body. He traced each scar gently again, his movements slow and deliberately soft, intentionally gentle. He wanted to get on his knees and press kisses to the scar. He wanted to show Connor just how beautiful he thought Connor was. How strong and brave and badass he was, how incredible and amazing and so damn gorgeous. 

“You survived,” Evan said, his voice rough, ragged. “That’s… that’s plenty sexy.”

Connor looked at Evan, his eyes big and questioning. 

God he was so beautiful. Connor was the most beautiful person Evan had ever seen.

Evan could kiss him, he realized. Connor was so close to him and his lips were parted and he looked so damn gorgeous… Evan could kiss him easily. He could lean in just a little and put his lips against Connor’s, could pull him close with ease, but Evan knew he couldn’t do that. He couldn’t close that gap, risk everything. 

He couldn’t, not now. 

No matter how much he wanted to…

Evan bit his lip, hard, to make sure he kept his mouth to himself and he realized that Connor was looking at him, really looking at him, looking at Evan’s mouth, the way he used to when he really wanted Evan to kiss him, and usually Evan would just lean in and kiss Connor until he was breathless, he would lean in and wrap his arms around Connor tightly, he would lean in and familiarize himself all over again with Connor’s taste and the softness of his lips, and fuck it maybe Evan _should_ just risk it maybe he should just -

There was a crash in the kitchen. 

Evan yanked his hand back and stumbled backward fast, very fast, putting space between them, fuck he’d nearly just fucked up everything fuck fuck fuck fuck. 

“Fuck,” Connor muttered, hurrying out of the living room and into the kitchen. Evan stood there, dazed, because. 

Shit. 

Fuck. 

Fuck what the hell was the matter with him, he needed to get a fucking grip what the fuck was he doing what did he think he was doing touching Connor like that what the hell was his problem -

Connor reappeared in the living room with Edgar perched happily on his shoulder, looking pleased with himself. 

“Everything okay?” Evan asked, trying to focus because right, there had been a crash, there had been some kind of noise. 

“Edgar decided to knock a mug off of the counter,” Connor said, smiling, his cheeks still flushed pink. “And then was investigating the bag you brought the food in? He got tangled up in the bag.”

“Oh,” Evan said, oddly breathless. He cleared his throat. “Well, uh. I um. I’m glad he’s okay.”

“Yeah,” Connor said. 

He took his seat back. 

They went back to watching Parks and Rec. 

There was no way Connor wanted him like that. Not anymore. Obviously not. 

_“You broke my heart.”_

Evan had broken Connor’s heart. And he had done it on purpose in the midst of his break down… 

Connor would never want him like that. Sure, they had undeniable chemistry but… there was no way. No fucking way. Evan had broken Connor’s heart, his heart he was so damn careful about, his heart which was precious and perfect and the best thing… Evan had broken Connor’s heart. He would never ever ever want Evan like that again. 

Obviously. 

And Evan knew that. He knew that. 

But still… 

_“You broke my heart.”_

Fuck. 


	161. ONE HUNDRED AND SIXTY

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> “You survived. That’s plenty sexy.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Again please take a look at the tags for this chapter. (Also sorry about the clickbait-y summary last time.)

Evan shows up with Mexican food on Wednesday night, the night before the anniversary of Connor’s should-be death date. 

He’s gone to the place with the chicken burrito Connor really likes, even though their kosher options are, like, way too salty, and Connor kind of wants to hug Evan for it, hug him for having been so fucking thoughtful. 

But there’s no way in hell he’s touching Evan right now because if he does, he’s going to spontaneously combust. 

Burst into flames, dissolve into a puddle. 

He just… keeps thinking about that dream. 

Keeps thinking about it. 

They eat on the sofa and Connor turns on the television and they watch Parks and Recreation. 

Well, Evan does. 

Connor watches Evan out of the corner of his eye. 

He’s in this blue shirt that brings out his eyes and he’s wearing his glasses. 

Those fucking glasses. 

They’re just…

Fuck. Connor really likes them. 

He looks really, really hot in them. 

Evan takes a bite of his quesadilla then makes a noise of annoyance. “Ugh,” he says, taking off his glasses and reaching for a napkin. “How is it even possible to get sour cream on my glasses, what the fuck?”

“I have no idea,” says Connor, watching as Evan wipes off the sour cream, then uses the bottom of his shirt to clean the glass and holy shit he can’t stop staring at the expanse of skin there, can’t stop staring, holy shit. 

He’s still so beautiful. 

So fucking beautiful. 

Evan catches Connor looking at him and pulls down his shirt, looking embarrassed.

Ashamed. 

Like Connor’s staring because it’s… bad. 

Connor has to put a stop to that. 

“I like that shirt on you,” Connor says, smiling at Evan. “It’s really nice. Fits you really well. You look really good.”

Evan’s eyes widen. “Thank you,” he says, sounding a little uncertain.

“You’ve put some weight back on,” Connor continues. “It’s really good. Really good. You look… really good.” 

Evan looks cautious, like he thinks Connor’s making fun of him. 

Connor is… bad at this. 

Very bad at this. 

“You’re looking way healthier,” Connor says, trying not to sound awkward and weird and pervy. “Meanwhile here I am with my noodle limbs that refuse to get… less noodley, no matter what I do.” 

“You’re looking healthier, too,” Evan points out. “And… you’ve put weight back on as well. You… you also look really good.”

“Go us,” Connor says, feeling his cheeks go pink. “Bouncing back.” He smiles at Evan again. “But especially you. Pretty soon you’ll be having to fight off cute guys with a stick.” He considers. “Guys and girls and nonbinary folks. All of them.” He tries for a casual tone. “I guess the dating pool is more of an ocean when you’re a hot bisexual.”

Evan just stares at Connor. His cheeks are pink as well and he looks utterly bewildered. 

“We’ll have to get you a stick as well,” Evan says after a moment. “For the guys. That you will be hitting with a stick.” He goes bright red. “That came out weird.”

“I’m not much of a sadist,” Connor says immediately and watches as Evan goes even redder. 

What the fuck what the fuck what is he doing dear God this conversation is spiralling wildly out of control. 

“And I don’t think the stick will be necessary,” Connor says, like a fucking idiot. “I haven’t had sex in a year.”

Evan blinks. Frowns. “You haven’t?”

Connor shakes his head. “No,” he confirms. He gestures to his stomach. “Turns out scars aren’t nearly as sexy as they make them out to be in the movies.”

Evan freezes. 

Rolls his sleeves down. 

Connor feels his chest compress painfully. 

Fuck. 

“I meant the huge fucking scars on my stomach,” Connor says in a hurry. “Seriously, the main one is fucking huge, and it didn’t heal well at all so it’s kind of gruesome looking these days.” 

Evan looks pained. Something flashes across his face that Connor can’t quite figure out. “Did… did Nate say something about your scars?”

Connor’s eyes widen. “No! No, he didn’t, I just…” He shrugs. “I wasn’t… I wasn’t comfortable showing him? So we just… didn’t have sex.” It’s not quite as simple as that, but he’s not really prepared to tell Evan the whole story. He takes one last bite of his burrito, then wipes his hand on a napkin.

“I’m sure they’re not that bad,” Evan says, his voice hesitant. “They were… last time I saw them, they were healing?”

They sit there with that for a moment, remembering that last time Evan saw Connor’s stomach scars it was when he was helping him shower. 

Before they broke up. 

Before Evan left.

“You don’t have to lie,” Connor says gently. “I know… I know it was disgusting. That I was a fucking mess when I got out of the coma. Like, physically a total mess from the surgery and the weight loss and… I know I was disgusting.”

Evan shakes his head. “You weren’t.”

“It’s fine-”

“You weren’t,” Evan says, his voice stronger. “That’s… no, Connor, you weren’t disgusting. You’re  _ not _ disgusting.” Something flashes across his face. “If anyone’s disgusting these days, it’s me. I managed to just… fucking destroy my whole body, and I don’t have surgery and a coma as excuses-”

“You’re not disgusting,” Connor interrupts, looking Evan dead in the eye. “Nowhere near it. The exact opposite, in fact. You’re…”

_ Amazing. Wonderful. Gorgeous.  _

_ Everything to me.  _

“You’re hot,” Connor says, trying to keep his tone light. “Like you’ve always been. Still super hot.” He smiles the best he can. “All the guys and gals and non-binary pals had better watch out when you start putting yourself out there again.”

Evan looks at him, this strange, confused expression on his face. 

Like he has no idea what Connor’s trying to do or trying to say. 

_ That makes two of us,  _ Connor thinks wryly.  _ I have no fucking clue what I’m doing.  _

“I’m sure the scarring isn’t that bad,” Evan says after a moment. 

“Trust me,” Connor says confidently. “It’s still pretty bad.” Before he can stop himself, he’s pulling up his t-shirt to reveal his stomach. He looks down to see the familiar scarring. 

Healed over, sure, but the scars are deep. Pink. Still angry-looking. 

“I looked up pictures of appendectomy scars online once,” Connor comments, still looking at his stomach. “They’re all way smaller than this one. But because it burst and got so infected and they had to deal with the infection, it’s… worse. Way worse.” He chances a look at Evan, who’s staring at the scar, transfixed. “Not exactly super sexy.”

Evan meets Connor’s eyes. Bites his lip. 

Reaches out and touches the scars gently, his fingers tracing over them carefully. “You survived,” Evan says, his voice rough. “That’s… that’s plenty sexy.”

Connor feels like he’s burning under Evan’s fingers. Like they’re burning him, dissolving him. 

Evan’s standing so close to him. Touching him. 

Touching his scars like he’s not afraid. 

They’re so close. Connor could kiss him if he wanted to. 

He wants to. 

He really, really wants to. 

Evan bites his lip again. 

Connor really, really wants to be the one biting it. 

There’s a sudden crash from the kitchen. 

Evan pulls his hand away and takes a huge step back, like Connor’s burned him. 

“Fuck,” Connor mutters, then races to the kitchen to find that Edgar Allan Paw has pushed a mug off the kitchen counter and onto the floor. He’s also currently stuck in the canvas bag Evan brought the food in, his little paw trapped in one of the handles, meowing pitifully. 

It takes a little while to get him free because he won’t stop wriggling. Once he’s free, he climbs onto Connor’s shoulder and starts nuzzling his cheek. 

“Everything okay?” Evan asks when Connor comes back into the living room. 

Connor launches into the tale of Edgar’s adventure and tries not to think about Evan’s fingers on his skin. 

* * *

  
  


Evan struggled to fall asleep on Wednesday night. He couldn’t shut his brain off. He kept flitting between the thought of his fingers against Connor’s stomach and last year, last year when his mom had to basically drag him out of his old apartment to go and say goodbye to his dying boyfriend…

It was hard to sleep. 

But eventually it came to him…

Connor kept watching him. Evan had some documents he was looking over at the kitchen table, and Connor was watching him. Evan could tell Connor was watching him, and he was… milking it a bit. He liked how Connor kept trying to draw his eyes. He liked making him work for it a little. Make him work to distract Evan. 

Though Evan was extremely distractible, truth be told. This pollution report was unbelievably dull. He was bored as hell looking over this report. 

Connor kept heaving these big sighs, looking at Evan with these big, beautiful, “pay attention to me” eyes. 

He was getting a bit needy these days, Evan thought, trying to hide the grin threatening to creep onto his face. He did his best to keep a poker face, did his best to at least appear to be focusing on his work. 

Connor sighed again. “What are you doing?” He asked, sounding exasperated. 

“I’m working,” Evan said, not even bothering to look up. He typed a comment slowly and deliberately. 

Connor reached over and snapped Evan’s laptop shut.

“Can I help you with something?” Evan asked, his tone teasing. 

“You have freckles,” Connor said as if that was an explanation. “You have freckles  _ all _ over.” 

“Do I?” Evan asked, smiling. 

“Yes,” Connor said breathlessly. “You do.”

“You’re the one who insisted we go to the park the other day,” Evan said. “Exposed me to all of that sun.”

“Fucking hell Evan,” Connor said, sounding frustrated, and he practically dove at Evan, stradding him right there in the kitchen and pulling him into a starving kiss. Evan kissed him back fiercely, his lips sliding over Connor’s, desperate to have him as close as possible. 

“Fuck,” Evan mumbled against Connor’s mouth as Connor’s fingers desperately started pulling at the hem of Evan’s t-shirt. They parted briefly so Connor could pull the shirt off of him, and then Connor started to press kisses to Evan’s shoulders, to the cluster of freckles there. 

“Love you,” Connor said softly, pressing another kiss to Evan’s neck. He pulled away to pull off his own shirt. 

“I love you so much,” Evan said back, capturing Connor’s lips in another kiss. He pulled Connor closer, feeling how hard he was through his jeans, and then Evan grabbed Connor under his legs and picked him up. 

“What are you doing?” Connor asked, giggling. 

“Taking you to bed,” Evan said simply. “You clearly need to pay for interrupting me when I was working.”

“Is that a promise?” Connor said, raising his eyebrows. 

“Absolutely,” Evan said, kissing him again as he carried Connor to the bedroom and all but threw him on the bed, immediately reaching for the fly of Connor’s jeans. He pulled them off quickly with his boxers, pausing to remove Connor’s socks, then he placed hot kisses against Connor’s hips, his inner thighs. 

“Fuck, Evan, your mouth,” Connor sighed. “ _ Please _ .”

“Oh I don’t think so,” Evan said, kissing his way back up over Connor’s hips, pausing briefly to look at but not touch Connor’s cock, and then kissed his way over Connor’s stomach and then swept his tongue over each of his nipples. Connor gasped when Evan bit down gently on one and then continued kissing him, lavishing attention on Connor’s collarbone, his neck and up to the shell of his ear. Connor kept trying to turn his head to kiss Evan’s mouth, but Evan kept his mouth just out of reach, until Connor was whining and whimpering. 

“Please kiss me,” Connor groaned. “Please.” 

“What will you give me if I kiss you?” Evan asked. 

“Anything,” Connor said, his eyes wide, his lips parted. “Please.”

“Hmm, I’m not sure if you want it,” Evan said, with a smile as Connor tried to pull him down into a kiss. 

“Please, please,” Connor said, trying again, which made Evan pin Connor’s wrists down to the mattress. “Evan please.”

“Behave,” Evan said, kissing Connor’s neck again, then scraping his teeth against the shell of Connor’s ear. He felt Connor shiver beneath him.

“Please,” Connor begged, and he looked so beautiful like this, all hard and desperate. “Please.”

Evan relented because he had to kiss him, he just had to. He kissed Connor hard, his tongue exploring Connor’s mouth, kissing him hot and open and wet. Connor groaned, his hips bucking up against Evan’s, grinding against him desperately. Evan pulled away and Connor whined. 

“You’re so beautiful,” Evan said, smiling. “Beautiful and so… so hard for me.”

“Mean,” Connor said. “Very mean.”

“What do you need?” Evan asked Connor, his voice betraying how turned on he was already, how close he was to just caving and fucking Connor right now. 

“Touch me,” Connor said. “Please, please, Evan, I need you to touch me  _ please _ .”

“Touch you where?” Evan asked, faux-innocently, kissing Connor’s neck. “You have to tell me.”

“My cock,” Connor said. “Please?”

Evan smiled and then kissed Connor’s mouth again, kissed him hard until he was panting and writhing beneath Evan. 

And then Evan kissed his way down Connor’s body. He pressed kisses to his hip bones, running his tongue over the spot where the bone jutted out, then sank his teeth briefly into Connor’s skin, making him moan and gasp and buck beneath him. Then he slowly, languidly licked his way up Connor’s hard and leaking cock. 

“Fuck,” Connor gasped when Evan wrapped his lips over the crown of Connor’s cock. He ran his tongue over the slit and Connor bucked desperately. Evan focused on blowing Connor, sucking him and running his tongue over the head, making sure Connor felt good, focusing everything on him and his cock until he could tell Connor was getting close by the way his breathing changed by the way his hips bucked helplessly, by the way he was fisting Evan’s hair…

And then Evan pulled away, letting Connor’s cock slip from his lips. 

“Fuck, Evan, fuck,” Connor whined. 

“Told you that you’d pay for distracting me,” Evan said, smirking at Connor. 

“You’re… an asshole,” Connor panted, his breathing ragged. “You’re  _ such  _ a prick oh my god.”

“I was just trying to do my job,” Evan said, as if he hadn’t just brought Connor to the edge and backed away. “Just trying to work and  _ somebody  _ thought I needed to be distracted.”

“Asshole,” Connor said, almost laughing. 

“Behave,” Evan said, almost sharply. 

Connor’s breathing hitched. “Yes sir,” He practically moaned. 

Evan smiled. “Good boy.”

Connor’s face and body were flushed this gorgeous pink and he smiled at Evan’s words, this soft and beautiful smile, and fuck Evan was just so gone for him. So gone. 

Fuck. 

Evan nudged Connor’s legs apart. Connor opened them easily to accommodate Evan. “What are you doing?” He panted. 

“Having my way with you,” Evan said, pressing a kiss to Connor’s inner thigh. Then he kissed his way down to Connor’s ass, licking his hole broadly. Connor jerked against Evan’s mouth. 

“Fuck Evan fuck,” Connor moaned. 

Evan kept licking Connor, tasting him and loving the way Connor writhed helplessly against him. He kept at it, licking and rubbing his lips against Connor’s hole, and then he thrust his tongue inside of Connor’s ass and Connor hissed and gasped and grabbed at Evan’s hair. 

“Evan your mouth holy fuck your mouth.”

“Someone’s enjoying himself,” Evan said softly. 

“Fuck Evan, holy fuck,” Connor moaned, his voice pleading and desperate, which was exactly how Evan wanted him. 

He went back to eating Connor out, licking him and then reaching his hand up to softly stroke Connor’s leaking cock, and Connor was moaning so loudly, and he started to plead, to beg, “Evan please, please, I need... I need… Please. Please.”

“Please what?” Evan asked. “You have to say it.”

“I need you to fuck me,” He rasped as Evan stroked him. “Please Evan, please please please.”

Evan smiled. “I love it when you beg.” 

“Fuck, Evan,  _ please. _ ”

“Be patient,” Evan said. “Be good.” He pushed himself up from between Connor’s legs, reaching into the bedside table for lube and a condom, and he poured a generous amount of lube onto his fingers before pushing two inside Connor. 

“Fuck Evan fucking hell fuck fuck fuck,” Connor moaned, his eyes closing, and his hairline was damp with sweat and his face and chest were so flushed, so slick with sweat. Evan had to kiss him he had to kiss him hard while he fucked Connor with his fingers. “I love you,” Connor groaned. “I love you so much I love you please please Evan I need you inside me please.”

“I’m not sure you want it,” Evan said, hooking his fingers inside Connor and making him jerk. 

“Please,” Connor gasped. 

“I think you can do better than that.”

“Please sir please sir please please please.”

“You want my cock?” Evan asked him, pressing a soft kiss to Connor’s collarbone. 

“No I want… pictures of fucking Spider-Man,” Connor panted, grinning stupidly. 

Evan pulled his fingers out, biting back a laugh, his eyebrows up. “Well in that case, let me go get my phone -”

“No!” Connor gasped, eyes wild, “Fuck, I’ll be good. I’ll be good sir I’m sorry, I’m so sorry, I swear I’ll be good, please please please fuck me, sir, please -”

Evan kissed him again. Then he pulled away to remove his pants and roll the condom over his cock, his leaking and painfully hard cock, and then he rubbed some lube onto himself and then he positioned himself between Connor’s legs. “What do you want?”

“Your cock please please sir.”

“Good boy,” Evan said, kissing him softly. He pressed the tip of his cock to Connor’s ass. He gathered Connor’s wrists in his hand, pinning them down to the mattress and then pushing himself inside Connor. Connor’s eyes fluttered closed, and he moaned loudly. “You are so fucking beautiful,” Evan said. “Fuck you are so gorgeous.”

“I love you,” Connor said. “I love you so much, fuck, fuck, I love you.”

“Don’t come until I say you can,” Evan said firmly. “You have to be good and wait to come. Wait until I say.”

“Yes sir. Yes sir, I’ll be a good boy.”

“Yes you will,” Evan said. “You’re mine, aren’t you?”

“Yes,” Connor gasped. “Yours all yours.”

Evan began to fuck Connor in earnest, fuck him hard and fast, and Connor was moaning and arching his back to meet Evan’s thrusts, his arms pinned to the mattress under Evan’s hands, and he was so beautiful. He was so fucking beautiful and Evan loved him so much loved him more than anything he had missed this he had missed this so much -

Evan blinked a few times, unsure where that thought had come from. 

Connor moaned against him, and Evan kissed him hard, back in the moment, fucking Connor hard, kissing him hard, and he released Connor’s wrists, threading his fingers in Connor’s hair and using his other hand to reach between them to stroke Connor’s leaking cock. He was so hard and he was whimpering against Evan’s mouth.

“Please sir,” Connor said. “Please I’m so close please.”

Evan smiled. He kept fucking Connor harder and harder, getting close himself. He kept stroking Connor, his strokes getting faster to match the rhythm of their hips. 

“Sir, please. Please.”

“Who do you belong to?” Evan asked. 

“You sir.”

“That’s right,” Evan panted, his own blood pounding hard in his ears. “You’re all mine.” 

“Yours all yours please.”

“Come for me,” Evan said, stroking him and fucking him hard. “Come for me good boy, you’ve done so well.”

Connor cried out, moaning loudly and spilling into Evan’s hand, and Evan kept fucking him through his orgasm, fucking Connor hard until his hips snapped erratically, until he was coming so hard everything else faded away, everything reduced down to white hot pleasure, everything was pleasure everything was Connor and Evan loved him he loved him so much he loved him with everything in him and then some. 

“Fuck,” Evan said breathlessly when he was finally finished. He kissed Connor softly and Connor’s eyelashes were a little wet, which just made Evan kiss him again and again and again. “I love you so much Connor. I love you so much. You are the best person I’ve ever known. The best. I love you so much you are so… so precious and amazing and beautiful and I love you so much. I’m so fucking in love with you.”

“I love you,” Connor said, and he pulled Evan in for another kiss. Evan kissed him softly, gently, and he wiped the tears that had fallen from Connor’s eyes from his cheeks. 

“I love you. I love you I love you I love you,” Evan said quietly. He pressed a kiss to Connor’s damp cheek. He pulled Connor close to him, not caring about the mess of come and lube between them, because he just needed to hold Connor close, to feel Connor against him. Evan buried his face in Connor’s neck. He kissed him softly. “I love you more than anything.”

“I love you too,” Connor said. 

They stayed like that, tangled together, until their breathing evened out, until the sweat cooled on their skin. Then, smiling at each other, Evan and Connor got out of bed and went to the shower, rinsing off the messes they’d made across each other’s bodies. 

Evan realized that the bottle of his body wash was awfully light. Nearly empty. He turned to say something to Connor about it, and Connor was grinning and blushing. “What?” Evan said. 

“I’ve been stealing it,” Connor confessed. “It smells like you and I like… I like smelling you on me? That’s… weird and possessive and -”

Evan cut him off with a kiss. “I love you,” he said, smiling so hard. “You are the love of my life Connor. I will never love anybody the way I love you.”

“I love you too,” Connor said, kissing him softly, almost chastely. “You’re… Everything.”

They rinsed off. Pulled on pajamas and curled up together in bed, their limbs tangled and tired, Evan’s head in the crook of Connor’s neck, holding him close until Evan felt Connor’s breathing even out. 

Evan woke up in a cold sweat. 

He was painfully fucking hard. He could practically feel Connor’s lips on his skin, taste the salt of his tears on his tongue.

Fucking hell. 

Fuck. 

Fuck. 

Fucking  _ hell _ .

Evan hurried into the shower, even though it was before dawn and turned the taps as cold as they’d go. It did nothing to subdue his stubborn erection, and, hating himself a little, Evan reached down and grabbed his cock, jerking off quickly and finishing extremely fast, thinking about Connor the whole time. 

Fuck. 

Fucking hell fuck fuck fuck. 

He washed his hair quickly, turning off the taps and stepping out of the shower shakily. He walked to the sink in the tiny mirror in the tiny bathroom of his sublet and stared at himself in the mirror, half expecting to see marks from sex with Connor on his body… but there was obviously nothing there.

Evan took a few deep breaths. He shaved his face carefully and slowly, despite the way his hands trembled a little. 

Fuck. 

Fucking hell. 

He brushed his teeth and then tried to go back to sleep, with very little luck. 

Today was July 7th. 

The day Connor almost died. 

Fuck. 


	162. ONE HUNDRED AND SIXTY-ONE

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> “Do you think I should put ‘cheated death’ on my resume?”

Connor sleeps badly the night before the anniversary of nearly dying. 

It’s a very confusing night. 

He dreams about his funeral, about the people who care about him mourning, and wakes up screaming twice. 

Then in the middle of all of that, he has what can only be described as a fucking filthy sex dream about Evan. Another one. 

He wakes up achingly hard and ends up jerking off in the shower like a fucking teenager to deal with it and…

It’s all just completely ridiculous. A total mindfuck. 

By five am, he’s given up on sleep. He makes a pot of coffee and sits at the kitchen table, Edgar on his shoulder. 

His brain is just… completely full. 

Distractingly full, memories and dreams all competing for attention. 

_ “You are the love of my life Connor. I will never love anybody the way I love you.” _

_ “I don’t trust you, and you don’t trust me. There’s nothing here worth fixing. So I think we’re done here.” _

_ “Please let me go. Just let me go? Please. Please, I… I can’t do this anymore, I just can’t, please just let me go.” _

_ “You are the best person I’ve ever known. The best. I love you so much you are so… so precious and amazing and beautiful and I love you so much. I’m so fucking in love with you.” _

_ “I warned you that I was like this. That I was always going to be like this.” _

_ “I love you. I will love you forever. I will love you until I can’t anymore.” _

_ “You’re broken.” _

_ “We need to talk.” _

_ “I love you. Don’t go anywhere on me, okay?” _

_ “You’re my best friend.” _

_ “I don’t want you to die, Connor, I can’t watch you die again, I can’t.” _

_ “Do you have any idea how exhausting it is to take care of you day in and day out?” _

_ “There’s probably another universe out there. A universe where I died like I was supposed to and you’re fucking better off.” _

_ “When we were together, we were happy weren’t we? I can’t remember anymore.” _

Connor just sits at his kitchen table, completely helpless against Evan’s voice in his head. He drinks four cups of coffee and notices his hands are beginning to shake. 

He should be dead. 

He should have been dead for a year now. 

He should have died this time last year, he should be long gone, he should-

He can hear a key in the lock. The door to his apartment opens quietly. 

Zoe is standing there, holding a tray with 2 coffees and a canvas bag. He can see a packet of M&Ms peeking out from the top, along with a pint of ice cream. She’s in shorts and a tank-top, her hair pulled up in a messy knot above her head, face devoid of makeup. 

She looks tired and young and sad. 

“Hi,” he says. 

Zoe stops in her tracks when she sees him. She looks so sad. 

“You couldn’t sleep either, huh?”

Connor shakes his head. Sighs. 

Zoe puts the coffee tray down on the table. Takes a seat across from him. 

Reaches out and takes his hand and holds it tight. 

“I took the day off,” she says, her voice shaky. “I just… I needed to see you for myself today. I needed to be able to see you’re okay.”

“I get it,” Connor says with a nod. Squeezes her hand back. “Wanna watch cartoons?”

Zoe lets out this weak laugh. “Fuck yes I wanna watch cartoons.”

She puts the ice cream in the freezer and starts unloading her various other junk food. There are M&Ms and Double Stuff Oreos and a box of donuts and Gummi bears and microwave popcorn and Sour Patch Kids and-

“That’s a lot of sugar,” Connor says with an actual laugh this time. 

“Here’s hoping it’ll get us all hyper so we don’t have to be sad.”

“Amen to that.”

They spend the day curled up on the couch together watching Spongebob, both under Connor’s duvet. Connor’s a little cold today, which makes no fucking sense because the apartment’s warm and it’s the middle of summer, but he thinks it’s got less to do with the actual temperature and more to do with the memory of climbing into a bathtub full of ice. 

“ _ You only came back seconds, seconds before they were going to take you off of life support. You almost didn’t make it. That was so fucking stupid Connor why the hell would you do that?” _

Connor lets out a shaky breath. 

Rubs his face. 

Zoe leans her head on his shoulder. “You okay?” she asks softly.

“As okay as I can be,” he replies. “You?”

“As okay as I can be,” she says back. Zoe pulls her head off of his shoulder then looks at him for a moment. “Hey Connor?”

He looks at his sister. “Hmm?”

“Thank you for not dying.” 

“You’re welcome,” says Connor quietly. 

Zoe blinks. “You’re welcome?”

“You said thank you. That’s the polite response.”

Zoe lets out this wet laugh. “You’re such a fucking asshole.”

“Rude,” Connor says, nudging Zoe with his shoulder gently. “That’s no way to talk to a man who cheated death.”

Zoe laughs again, and it’s even sadder. “Oh my god.”

“Do you think I should put ‘cheated death’ on my resume?” 

“You own your own business, Connor. And you are a literal millionaire. You don’t need a fucking resume.”

Connor shrugs. Grins at Zoe and takes an M&M from the packet between them. “It’s important to be prepared.” With that, he throws the M&M at his sister, intending for it to land in her mouth. 

He aims badly. It hits her on the nose. She yelps in protest, then throws it back at him.

Soon they’re having an honest to fuck M&M fight, giggling like idiots, and Connor feels a weight lifting off his chest. 

He’s here. He’s alive. 

He has an M&M stuck in his nostril. 

Everything’s okay.

* * *

“Evan?” 

Evan looked up from his computer. “Hi?” He said. His boss Natasha was standing in the doorway of his new office. It was smaller than his old offices, and it didn’t have the view, but he loved it a lot. It was warm and homey and he loved it a lot. “What can I do for you?”

“Go home,” Natasha said, smiling. “You worked through lunch.”

Evan felt his face warm up. He had focused on work so he didn’t need to think about the extremely graphic sex dream he had the night before, so he didn’t have to think about how Connor nearly died a year ago, and he got carried away. “Sorry I…”

“No, dude, I get it. I’ve gotten super in the zone before, it’s all good. But you finished your review of the grant applications we’re submitting. You’re doing awesome, and we’re so happy to have you on the team.” She grinned. “So, with that said, go home. It’s a gorgeous day.”

Evan stared at her, unsure if he was in trouble. 

“Evan! I’m serious! Everything is handled and we encourage flexible schedules around here. Go!”

“But I…”

Natasha laughed a little. “This happens a lot when we hire people who were in more corporate roles previously. You’re doing so well! You are not in trouble, this is not a trap! Go home!”

“I can’t do anything else?” Evan asked, shutting down his computer reluctantly. 

She rolled her eyes. “Fine, you know what. You’re a notary, yeah?”

Evan nodded. 

“Notarize this for me, and you’re free to go.”

Evan smiled sheepishly. He pulled his stamp out of his drawer and notarized her file and signed it. “Sorry,” He said awkwardly. 

“You are fine. Really. It’s an adjustment. And I was… so much worse than this when I first got here. I logged so much overtime I had to have a meeting with the president of the company. So really you are okay. So. Go home. I’ll see you tomorrow.” She paused. “Not a minute before nine though, okay?”

Evan smiled. “Thanks Natasha.”

Free at three o’clock and a little unsure of himself, Evan went and got himself a coffee. He planned to stop in on Connor today… He knew he was taking the day off because it was the anniversary of his would-be death. And Evan… Evan wanted to be there, spend time with him. He wanted to make sure Connor was okay.

He could… he could stop by. 

It wouldn’t be weird. 

Connor was his best friend and Evan was Connor’s and sure they were exes, and sure Evan had said his goodbyes to Connor, promised to be there when it all ended and… Evan needed to see Connor with his own eyes. To make sure he was breathing and alive and okay, mostly okay. 

And also Evan wanted to make sure Connor ate something today. Connor was still too thin. Not emaciated like he had been, but Evan kept thinking about how all Connor had had in his system the morning of the settlement hearing was coffee and… Evan figured bringing food by wasn’t a bad bet. He didn’t know what his day looked like but he wanted to make sure he was alright and eating. So he ordered a straight up unreasonable amount of Mexican food from the place with the too salty kosher options because Connor liked their chicken burrito and he could always count on Mexican food, even if Connor wasn’t terribly hungry. 

He got extra guac and chips and also some tacos to go with it, thinking if nothing else they’d work as leftovers. 

Evan walked over to Connor’s apartment. His new job was close to Connor’s apartment, which was nice. He made the walk quickly. He said hello to Leslie who was ringing up a customer and headed straight upstairs. Evan knocked on Connor’s door and waited. He hoped it wouldn’t be weird that he just showed up. Usually Evan would text but… he thought it would be alright if he just turned up today. He’d been here all weekend afterall. It probably wasn’t that weird. 

The door opened to reveal Zoe, in shorts and a tank top, wearing her hair up in a messy knot. She didn’t have any makeup on her face and it made her look younger, more vulnerable. Evan opened his mouth to say hello but she slammed the door in his face. 

Fuck. 

Fucking shit. 

It was really fucking hard seeing Zoe. Other than the day he’d glimpsed her at the hearing and the time he had walked her home drunk, they hadn’t seen each other since September. A year ago, she was like his sister and now… she hated him. With good reason, of course, but it was still hard. They had been friends. They had been close. They used to grab lunch. Evan had been there with her the night of Connor’s appendectomy, he’d held her hand and swore he wouldn’t let her go through this alone… 

And then he chickened out and disappeared. And a month after Connor woke up, he left. 

Zoe had every right to hate him but it didn’t mean it didn’t hurt when she slammed the door in his face. To see this person he loved so openly hate him. 

And it didn’t take away the slightly indignant feeling that she could afford to cut him a  _ little _ bit of slack. Not a lot. Not to excuse all of the damage he had done, but to see he… hadn’t been in a good place when those decisions were made. And that he was trying his best to make up for the mistakes now. And he’d won her five fucking million dollars. He was trying.

Like, for fuck’s sake, she was a psychologist. It wouldn’t fucking kill her to demonstrate a  _ little _ more empathy…

But Evan didn’t get to be angry about this because he wasn’t the hurt party. So he swallowed that feeling, logged it away to discuss with Oliver the next time they met, and considered his options while staring at Connor’s apartment door. 

Evan didn’t know what to do here. 

If nothing else he didn’t want the food to get cold. He could imagine Connor not wanting to see him today, especially not with Zoe over, and he hated it but Evan could take it, he could take that but… He wanted to see Connor with his own eyes. And also give him the food because it was for Connor… And Connor needed to eat something. Consume something that wasn’t just coffee. 

Should he knock again? Would that be weird? They knew who was at the door… But he didn’t just want to leave the food because it would get gross and start to smell and they’d think he’d done that on purpose, a weird passive aggressive slow moving stink bomb or something… 

Fuck. 

Fuck it, Evan decided. He just. Wanted to give the food to Connor and Connor kept letting Evan be a part of his life so until Connor told him to his face he didn’t want to see Evan, he wasn’t fucking leaving. 

Evan raised his hand to knock again when the door opened, revealing Connor, his hair tied into a loose knot, wearing sweats and a flannel over a t-shirt. He had on the fuzzy cat socks Evan had got him last year when he was in the hospital and still so cold. 

“Hi,” Evan said awkwardly. He cleared his throat. “I don’t have to stay. I just wanted to make sure you were okay. And… I brought food.”

Connor smiled at him, this soft warm and inviting smile, and opened the door. “You should come in.”

* * *

There’s a knock on the door sometime in the middle of the afternoon. Zoe jumps off the sofa. “That’ll be the ice cream delivery.”

“The ice cream delivery?” Connor asks, completely perplexed. 

“Mariah is sending us ice cream,” says Zoe with a satisfied grin. “She found a place that does ice cream delivery? It’s apparently proved extremely dangerous for everyone at work this summer.”

Connor actually smiles a little at that. “I can only imagine just how much ice cream you’d need to get through that corporate workload.”

Zoe winks at Connor. “Let’s just say I make sure she works it off.”

“Get some,” says Connor with a grin, and Zoe heads out of the living room toward the door. 

Less than a minute later, Connor hears the front door slam almost violently. 

Zoe comes back into the room, her face stormy. “Not ice cream,” she says, sitting on the couch. 

Connor blinks. “Who was it?”

Zoe frowns deeply. “Wrong address.”

“Okay, I live above my business,” Connor points out, frowning back. “So it’s definitely not.”

“Whatever,” says Zoe, flopping back on the couch like a sullen teenager. 

The penny drops. “It’s Evan, isn’t it?”

Zoe looks at Connor and scowls. “Yes, and he shouldn’t fucking be here. Not today.”

“Zo,” Connor says firmly. “He’s my best friend.” He stands up. “He’s probably freaking out if you slammed the door in his face, oh my god.”

“He can just chill out in the hallway until the ice cream delivery shows up,” Zoe says, equally firmly. “He deserves it.”

“He doesn’t.”

“You’re right,” says Zoe in this fake light voice. “He deserves worse. Much worse. Why are you even talking to him?”

“Because he’s my best friend.”

Zoe’s face goes bright red. “That’s bullshit. Stop saying that! It’s not fucking true.”

“It is!” Connor insists. 

“He’s your ex,” Zoe shoots back. “You’re not… you’re not friends, you were never fucking  _ friends.  _ You were in love with him. You’re still in love with him. And he’s taking advantage of that fact.”

“He’s not taking advantage of anything-”

“You broke up with Nate for him,” Zoe interrupts, still scowling. “Nate who is nice and smart and kind and loyal and didn’t fuck you over the way Evan did. You broke up with Nate because you’re still in love with Evan.”

“I broke up with Nate because I wasn’t ready for a-”

“You’ll never be ready!” Zoe nearly yells. “You’ll never be ready because you won’t fucking let go, you won’t just… cut him out of your life like he did to you, you’re hanging on to the hope that he still loves you when it’s pretty fucking clear he’s a heartless prick who doesn’t deserve your time-”

“That’s enough,” Connor says firmly. “Don’t talk about him that way.”

Zoe blinks. She looks like she’s about to cry. “It’s not fair that he’s here,” she says, and her voice is so small. “That he’s here today, a year after we nearly lost you.”

“You all nearly lost me,” Connor says, his voice equally small. “You and Mom and Dad and the bookstore kids… and Evan. Don’t… don’t act like he didn’t care. Like he doesn’t care.”

“He  _ left _ you.”

“In the middle of a borderline personality disorder episode,” Connor points out. “In the middle of an episode of an undiagnosed illness that’s really fucking scary that he’s spent the last four months learning to manage.” 

Zoe looks like she wants to yell. Wants to argue and scream and cry. 

“I’m going to let him in,” he says gently. “I want him here today. I want you both here today.”

Zoe looks angry, but she shrugs and sinks further into the sofa. 

“Fine. Whatever.”


	163. ONE HUNDRED AND SIXTY-TWO

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> “I hate it, but I get it. I get that the two of you aren’t in an okay place right now. But… for today, can you just fucking fake it?"

Connor rushes to the front door and opens it. Evan’s got his hand raised like he was about to knock again, carrying a canvas bag. Connor can smell Mexican food. 

“Hi,” Evan says. He looks incredibly uncomfortable. “I don’t have to stay. I just wanted to make sure you were okay. And… I brought food.”

Connor smiles at Evan, and something in his friend’s face relaxes. He opens the door wider. “You should come in.”

Evan looks hesitant. “Are you sure? I know that Zoe doesn’t want to see me.”

“She’s just disappointed you aren’t the ice cream delivery,” Connor lies, gesturing for Evan to come inside. 

Evan looks like he’s going to argue, but steps through the door, just in time for someone else to come up the stairs, carrying what looks like a large cardboard cooler. 

“Delivery for Zoe?” says the guy carrying the cooler. 

“Yep,” says Zoe from behind Connor, pushing past Evan to get the cooler from the delivery guy with more force than strictly necessary. She signs something, takes the cooler, thanks the guy politely and heads into the kitchen, once again pushing past Evan. 

“I see we’re going with the ‘grown adult’ approach,” Connor mutters to himself, annoyed. Evan hands Connor the bag. 

“I can just go-”

“Best idea you’ve had in months,” Zoe snaps.

“Okay, that’s it,” says Connor, closing the front door and looking at both of them. “In case you’d forgotten, I nearly fucking died a year ago.”

Zoe and Evan both go dangerously pale, almost in unison. 

“It’s not the kind of thing you forget,” says Evan quietly, and Zoe murmurs in agreement. 

“Yeah, it wasn’t exactly a picnic for me, either,” Connor says, not bothering to hide how annoyed he is. “I’ve been having fucking nightmares about it all week. It was the most fucking terrifying thing to ever happen to me, and I’m not fucking okay about it. And you two are the most important people in my life, bar none. I know you don’t get along these days. And, yeah, okay. It’s a shit situation. What happened to me last year was shit.” 

He looks at his sister. “Zoe, I don’t need you telling me how to fucking feel about what went down with me and Evan, okay? We’ve worked really hard to get to where we are now, after everything, and I don’t appreciate being told how to feel about it all.” Zoe crosses her arms and looks annoyed, but doesn’t say anything. 

Connor turns to Evan. “Evan, you’re my best friend and I’m really fucking glad you and I are okay now. Really fucking glad. But what went down doesn’t just affect me and you. You hurt Zoe, too, and she doesn’t  _ have _ to forgive you, so you just… need to accept that.”

Evan looks like he wants to say something but wisely keeps his mouth shut.   
“I get that you two aren’t friends any more,” Connor continues with a frown. “I hate it, but I get it. I get that the two of you aren’t in an okay place right now. But… for today, can you just fucking fake it? Can you just… not make me have to choose between you? I can’t handle today by myself. I need both of you to just… put it aside for one day and be there for me. Please.”

Zoe looks at Evan, her expression guarded. Careful. She looks back at Connor and it softens considerably. “Okay,” she says quietly. “We can… look, today is hard. It was always going to be hard.”

“Agreed,” says Evan immediately. 

Zoe turns back to Evan. “Sorry for slamming the door in your face.”

“At least you didn’t key my car,” Evan says weakly, like he’s trying to make a joke. 

Zoe raises her eyebrows. “You don’t have a car. You don’t even have a license.”

“It’s a… metaphorical car.”

“Oh my god,” Connor mutters. He opens the canvas bag Evan brought with him to reveal delicious smelling Mexican food from the place he likes best, the place with the rubbish kosher options but a really fucking good chicken burrito. “I’m eating this burrito before it gets cold. Zoe, don’t kill Evan. I mopped the floor on Tuesday and I don’t want to do it again until next week at least.”

* * *

Evan tried his best not to fidget. Here, in Connor’s apartment, with both Connor and Zoe things were… awkward. Uncomfortable. Zoe might have agreed to play nice for today but it didn’t make her terribly friendly toward him, which Evan got. 

It frustrated him to no end that he was an intelligent person who was rational and logical and generally reasonable, but then also he was absolutely not that at all, he was a toddler throwing a tantrum because he wasn’t getting his way, he was screaming and stomping his feet and losing it totally because Zoe was mad at him and he didn’t think that was totally fair. Even though it was, objectively, fair. 

And then there was Connor… 

Connor who was cracking lame jokes and diving into his chicken burrito and also looking at Evan with this strange expression whenever he thought Evan couldn’t see him. But Evan could see him and did notice him looking, did notice him watching Evan carefully, and then his mind would flash back to touching the skin of Connor’s stomach, tracing over his scars, to the dream he had where he and Connor had sex and held each other and showered and cuddled and how much it made his heart squeeze painfully to think he’d never have that again, to last year when he had held Connor’s cold limp hand and said his shaky goodbyes and told him he loved him and that he would never stop… only to leave him like a month later. 

So it was awkward. 

But Zoe didn’t kill him or key his metaphorical car. And the three of them sat in the living room and watched old episodes of Spongebob while they ate Mexican food and Evan worked hard not to get sour cream on his glasses again. He could tell Connor was watching him, looking between Evan and Zoe, and he was tense and Evan hated that he was causing that tension, he was causing it by being here… 

He wanted so badly to leave but he wasn’t willing to walk away. Evan wasn’t willing to leave Connor, not today. Not today. He had to be here because Connor wanted him here. Because Connor was his best friend… and the love of Evan’s life. And the only person he wanted to be with, ever. Connor was… Evan’s favorite person.

Which he knew was kind of a problematic BPD thing, and he and Oliver were working together on managing it. Making sure Evan wasn’t going to Connor to balance and regulate his feelings. Making sure he didn’t only go to Connor with a crisis. Making sure he… didn’t come at Connor with the volume all the way up. Oliver had made a lot of jokes about  _ This Is Spinal Tap,  _ which Evan wasn’t super familiar with but he understood the reference to turning the volume up to eleven. 

“You do a lot of stuff at an eleven,” Oliver said, “That’s how your brain wants to operate. And tension, the fear you feel about people leaving? Most of that is because when you’re at eleven, they’re at… maybe three or four. Most people exist at a one to ten scale. People with BPD? Your scale is more like… one-two-three-eight-nine-ten-eleven. A lot of what we’re doing here is helping you to learn what, say, a five or a six feels like. So when you do feel an eleven, you know there’s a real problem and not… not just your brain taking you for a joy ride.”

So he was… trying not to view Connor at an eleven. He was trying not to idealize him or demonize him and just… look at him like he was. A person. A wonderful, kind, patient person… but still a person. A person who couldn’t help the crazy things that had happened to him. A person who nearly died and… who deserved love and support today. And not Evan’s brain shit. 

So. 

He stayed. He stuck it out despite Zoe sometimes rolling his eyes when Evan laughed or responded to something Connor said. Evan stuck it out. 

Before long, Connor got up to go and pee. He turned to Zoe and Evan and instructed them both to “play nice.” 

Edgar followed Connor to the bathroom, leaving Zoe and Evan totally alone in the living room. Evan swallowed hard. 

“So,” Zoe said, and she sounded sort of annoyed. Evan glanced her way nervously, his fingers pinching the seam of his jeans. 

“So…?” Evan repeated stupidly. 

“You worked with my dad on the lawsuit.”

Evan nodded. 

Zoe frowned. Evan picked at his cuticles. “Well. Thanks. I guess. For. Helping my dad.”

Evan nodded because “you’re welcome” felt wildly inappropriate. 

“How’s therapy going?”

Evan blinked a few times. “Uh. It’s going okay.”

“You’re seeing Oliver Hara, right?” Zoe asked, sounding… bored. Intentionally detached.

Evan nodded. 

“He presented a paper on BPD at a conference I went to last fall. We’ve met a few times. He’s good. He specialises in DBT and CBT, right?”

Evan nodded again. “Yes.”

“Is that working for you?”

Evan shrugged. “I think so.”

“How are you dealing with the splitting?” She asked, her voice professional but just ever so slightly sharp. 

Evan swallowed. “I…” He gave her a shrug. “I’m doing my best? I -”

“Because if you’re going to be around my brother, you can’t just bail on him. You can’t just let things be black and white with him. Not again.” Zoe crossed her arms over her chest. “I don’t know why he wants you in his life. I genuinely cannot fathom what he wants you around for after what you did. But he picked you, so you… you need to keep your shit together, okay? You cannot walk out on him. Not again.”

Evan nodded. “I… I won’t,” he said softly. “I know how badly I screwed up. I know… And I.” He cleared his throat. “I know that. I owe you… a massive apology, Zoe.” Evan looked down at his feet. “I know that when I left… I left a mess. And I left you too. We were… friends. We were like family, you were like my sister and I… fucked it up. I fucked up a lot. And I left you alone when Connor was… when.” He shook his head, blinking rapidly, trying his best not to break down. “I dumped the power of attorney thing on you and disappeared. I shouldn’t have left you alone with that. To plan and prepare and… I shouldn’t have left you alone with that at all. It was selfish and unfair. To have left you to clean up my mess. And I am so sorry Zoe. I shouldn’t have left you like that, and I shouldn’t have left Connor at all. And I will… regret that for the rest of my life. I will. And I know you don’t trust me with Connor and I get that. I get it and it’s… fair. It’s fair. And you. You get to hate me. You do. But I’m not going anywhere, okay?”

“You say that now,” Zoe said, her eyes glassy. “But what about the next episode you have? And how do I know you’re not just… manipulating him to make sure he doesn’t leave?”

Evan blinked again. Wiped his eyes rapidly. Because he worried about that all of the time. He worried about daily, he worried about it to his mom to his therapist to Mattie and Alex and Otis… He worried about it  _ constantly _ . Worried that his tenuous grasp on his thoughts and behaviors were slippery and imprecise that he would fuck up, that he would fall back on his old patterns of behavior and not even realize, that he would lose control completely. That he’d slip like he had last month and find himself spiraling. He was so fucking scared of what he was capable of, of what he could do to the people he loved. Of what he could do to Connor. “I am… I am trying my best.” He sniffed. “I know how much I fucked up Zoe. I know that. And I… I want to do the work. I am doing the work, and I… I will spend the rest of my life trying to make it up to to Connor. And to you. Okay?” He swallowed hard. “I don’t expect you to trust me or believe me but… I promise I will do my best.”

Zoe looked at him, this hard look in her eyes. “Fine,” She said. 

Evan let out a breath he hadn’t realized he was holding. “Okay.”

“Okay.”

* * *

Connor tries to take as little time in the bathroom as he can, because leaving Zoe and Evan alone seems like a colossally stupid idea right now. 

But he just… needs a minute. 

Because Evan’s wearing his glasses again and Connor is stupidly, ridiculously distracted by how beautiful he is. 

By that fucking dream where Evan had bossed him around and he’d loved it, he’d been so eager, so fucking desperate for it…

“Get your shit together,” Connor tells his reflection in the mirror.

It’s really not fair that today of all days he has to deal with his stupid brain conjuring up images of his ex-boyfriend fucking him hard, pinning him down by his wrists and topping the ever-loving fuck out of him. Especially when his ex-boyfriend is in his living room, trying to be a good friend because this time last year Connor should have died. 

He should have died. 

Connor sees his face drain of colour at the thought. 

Fuck. 

He’s just… 

Fuck. 

It scares him. It scares him because he still doesn’t understand what happened, why it happened, and while he’s trying his best, he’s still not okay with it, he’s still not over it. 

It ruined everything. 

Everything. 

If he hadn’t gotten sick, if he hadn’t almost died, then maybe Evan wouldn’t have suffered so much. 

Maybe Evan would still love him. 

Fuck. 

Connor tries to put the thought out of his mind and heads back to the living room, only to overhear Evan talking to Zoe. 

“I know you don’t trust me with Connor and I get that. I get it and it’s… fair. It’s fair. And you. You get to hate me. You do. But I’m not going anywhere, okay?”

“You say that now. But what about the next episode you have? And how do I know you’re not just… manipulating him to make sure he doesn’t leave?”

“I am… I am trying my best.” Connor can hear Evan sniffing, like he’s trying not to cry. “I know how much I fucked up Zoe. I know that. And I… I want to do the work. I am doing the work, and I… I will spend the rest of my life trying to make it up to to Connor. And to you. Okay? I don’t expect you to trust me or believe me but… I promise I will do my best.”

Connor holds his breath, waiting for Zoe to respond. 

“Fine,” says his sister, sounding annoyed. 

“Okay,” Connor hears Evan say. 

“Okay.” 

Connor lets out the breath he was holding. Quietly, so that it’s not super fucking obvious he’s been eavesdropping. 

He hates that Zoe and Evan aren’t friends. He hates it, so fucking much, because they’re his two favorite people in the world, bar none. They’re the only people he wants to be with today - as much as he loves his parents, as much as he loves the bookstore kids, today he just wants Zoe and Evan. Just them. 

The three of them were close. 

Connor had always really liked that his sister and his boyfriend got along so well. And sure, there’s always been a little voice in the back of his head reminding him of Evan’s high school crush on Zoe, but the voice got smaller and less insistent over time. 

But Evan’s not his boyfriend anymore. 

And Zoe has made it pretty fucking clear she’s not okay with Evan, not okay with what he did. 

The fact that they can have a conversation about it…

Maybe it’s a step in the right direction. 

Because Evan’s said he isn’t going anywhere. 

And Connor wants to believe him. 

He wants to believe him so badly, even though sometimes having Evan around hurts, because Evan’s friendship is something Connor doesn’t want to have to live without. 

Connor takes the opportunity to make his presence known, talking loudly as he enters the room. “So how do we all feel about ice cream?”

“Extremely positive,” Zoe says, looking at Connor and giving him a smile, a smile that doesn’t quite reach her eyes. 

“Not for me,” Evan says, this look of relief in his eyes. “Unless you’ve got something without dairy.”

“Mariah’s really into this strawberry sorbet,” Zoe says, almost reluctantly. “It’s dairy-free. I’ll bet you anything she included some.”

“Shall we check it out?” Connor says, and the three of them head into the kitchen. 

Mariah has indeed sent over strawberry sorbet. All three of them end up with a bowl each and Connor has to admit, it’s really fucking good. 

“Fuck, that’s good,” Zoe and Evan both say at the exact same time, and they exchange a look and almost smile, and Connor feels something inside him relax. 

The three of them finish the whole pint of sorbet in record time, then head back to the living room and start watching old episodes of The Office. After maybe half an hour, Zoe falls asleep against Connor’s shoulder. There are dark circles under her eyes. 

She looks exhausted. 

Evan seems to notice. He frowns. Looks genuinely concerned. 

“I don’t think she’s been sleeping well,” Connor says, softly so he doesn’t wake her. He offers Evan a wry smile. “Honestly, neither have I.”

“Still having bad dreams?” Evan asks. 

Connor feels his cheeks going bright pink. “Sometimes,” he says, trying to keep his voice even. “Not just bad dreams, though.”

Evan’s eyes widen comically and Connor feels something in his chest swoop weirdly. 

Did Evan…

Fuck. 

Fuck.

Fuck. 

Fuck. 

“You’re okay, though?” Evan asks, his cheeks bright red. “You’re… you’re okay, nothing weird has happened?”

“I’m okay,” Connor assures him. He bites his lip. 

Evan looks… really good in his glasses. 

His cheeks flushed. It makes Connor thinks about what he looks like during sex. 

He bites his lip again. 

“I’m… I’m so sorry,” Connor says, looking at Evan carefully. “About everything that happened last year. About all of it.”

“None of it was your fault,” Evan says, frowning. “You didn’t… you didn’t choose what happened, none of it was your fault-”

“I keep thinking that if I’d done things differently-”

“That’ll drive you crazy,” Evan interrupts firmly. “Thinking like that.” He gives Connor this sad, lopsided smile. “It is what it is. That’s what you say, right?”

“Yeah,” Connor agrees, returning a sad smile of his own. “I just…”

He doesn’t know how to finish that sentence. 

Doesn’t know how to express it all. 

But Evan nods, like he knows what Connor’s trying to say. Reaches out and takes Connor’s hand and squeezes it tight. 

The touch of Evan’s hand is like being fucking electrocuted. 

Connor would know. He’s been electrocuted before. 

It’s like this tangible spark, a jolt of electricity, and Connor feels his heart speed up, feels warmth all the way through them, and fuck. Fuck. Fuck. 

_ “You’re all mine, aren’t you?” _

_ “Yes. Yours, all yours.” _

Connor looks at Evan, and sees that his eyes are wide, pupils blown. He’s breathing heavily and his lips are parted a little and Connor wants him, he wants him, he wants him-

Zoe shifts a little in her sleep beside Connor, letting out this sigh, and Connor lets go of Evan’s hand like it burned him. 

He cannot be thinking about fucking his best friend while his sister is asleep on his shoulder, what the fuck is wrong with him? What the fuck what the fuck what the fuck?

Zoe shifts again, moving away from Connor. Connor takes the opportunity to shift a little. Puts a blanket over his sister and stands up, mumbling something about getting more ice cream, then heads into the kitchen. 

A few moments later, Evan follows him in. His cheeks are pink. He pours himself a glass of water and looks at Connor. 

Looks at him, this blazing look in his eyes. 

Connor knows that if Evan told him to get on his knees right now and suck him off, he’d obey without question. 

Fuck. 

Fucking hell. 

Fuck. 

Maybe it wouldn’t be so bad if they just… went back to being fuck buddies. They had amazing sex. Incredible sex. And it’s been so fucking long since Connor got laid, so fucking long. 

The last person he had sex with was… Parker. 

In another universe. 

Sex he doesn’t even remember. 

Maybe he could throw it out there. Ask Evan to fuck him as a friend. Do him a solid and just get him off as a distraction from today being the shitshow it is and get it out of his system. 

What the fuck, he can’t go asking Evan to fuck him when his sister is asleep in his living room, what the fuck is wrong with him? 

Connor goes to the freezer and pulls out a pint of cookies and cream. Takes a spoon and puts it into the container, then takes a large spoonful, hoping it’ll distract him from how much he wants Evan to fuck him right now. 

It does not. 

“How’s the new job?” Connor asks, completely unable to take his eyes off Evan’s lips. "Still liking it?"

“It's different,” says Evan, and he’s looking at Connor with these blazing eyes. He takes a step toward him. “Connor, I-”

“Don’t eat all the cookies and cream,” says Zoe, coming into the room, bleary-eyed and yawning. “You have to share.”

Evan steps back, mutters some kind of apology. Zoe looks at him, glaring a little, then grabs a spoon and helps herself to the ice cream Connor’s holding. 

This is fine. 

This is fine. 

This is fine. 


	164. ONE HUNDRED AND SIXTY-THREE

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> "Thank you for letting me be here today.”

As night fell, Evan could sense the shift in the atmosphere. It felt less like a chill evening to celebrate that Connor hadn’t died and more and more like… like the anniversary of the loops. Like they were running out the clock, trying hard to make it to midnight. 

And Connor kept close to them, hovering very near Zoe or Evan as the evening wore on, Edgar always on his shoulder or his lap, like he wouldn’t let Connor out of his sight. 

Evan could relate to that feeling. God. He could relate. 

A thought occurred to Evan suddenly and he felt like an idiot for not thinking of it sooner. For not planning ahead. Connor didn’t want to be alone today. He’d told Evan that over the Fourth of July, that he didn’t want to be alone. And Evan could tell by the way Connor was sticking close to them, that Connor was dreading the moment when Zoe and Evan called it a night, packed up and went home. 

So. 

Obviously he had to stay. 

Zoe got up for a drink of water and Connor excused himself to use the bathroom again. Evan, feeling bold, went and followed Zoe into the kitchen. “Hey,” He said, trying to keep his tone soft and light and nonthreatening. “I… I don’t think we should leave Connor alone tonight.”

Zoe frowned at Evan, and she looked frustrated and annoyed. “Yeah. You read my mind.” She shook her head. “I’ll stay. I’ve got a light day tomorrow and…” 

_ You shouldn’t be here.  _

_ You should count yourself lucky I don’t carve your balls off with the nearest blunt instrument.  _

_ You don’t belong here.  _

_ You broke everything.  _

“He needs us,” Zoe said finally, frowning. “This isn’t about you and me, it’s about Connor. So. I’ll go and get my stuff and then you -”

“I’ll run and grab mine,” Evan said, nodding. “Sure.”

It reminded him of the September when Connor and Evan first started dating. Connor had a lot of issues sleeping, and Evan wanted to help but he knew he couldn’t stay over every night. So he and Zoe had a system. They’d stick around until the other could come back with an overnight bag. Take shifts. Not babysitting, not at all, just there for support and company. Most of the time they’d each hang around until the other got back. They almost played it like it was a joke, often saying, “You’re it” right before one of them left to get their things. 

Connor stepped into the kitchen. “Everything okay?” He asked, sounding apprehensive. Which was fair, Evan reasoned. Zoe hated Evan. The two of them being alone together was likely to raise suspicion. 

“We’re just uh, planning a little slumber party,” Zoe said, her voice overly bright. “So. I’m gonna duck out and get my stuff quick? And then when I get back, Evan’ll go home and grab his meds and whatever, and when he gets back we’ll… slumber party it out or whatever.”

“Oh,” Connor said, and he sounded surprised but also… relieved. He smiled at both of them. “Thank you.”

“Of course,” Evan said, smiling back. 

Zoe headed out not long after that, leaving Evan and Connor sitting beside each other on the sofa. Evan… 

Almost wished Zoe was back because now that he and Connor were alone it was a lot more difficult not to think about the extremely graphic sex dreams he’d been having about Connor lately. Sitting beside him, listening to Connor breathing, it just… made Evan want him so much it was almost painful. And he just kept looking at Connor’s mouth… Imagining how it would feel against Evan’s, how it would produce the most erotic and wanton sounds, how he’d breathe heavily, panting against Evan’s skin when Evan fucked him... 

“What?” Connor asked, looking over at Evan, wiping his mouth self consciously. “Do I have ice cream on my face or something?”

“No,” Evan said, feeling his face heating up. “Sorry, no I was just. Spacing out. Staring into the middle distance… at your head.”

Connor tilted his head slightly. “Spacing out like… not like dissociating, right?”

“No,” Evan shook his head. “No. I’m sorry. I didn’t mean to freak you out or-or anything.”

“No, it’s okay,” Connor said with a small smile. “It doesn’t, like, freak me out or whatever? I just. I know it’s a thing that happens for you so. I wanted to like. Be supportive and, uh, grounding or whatever.” He frowned slightly. “When you stayed with me in February you… you did that a lot.” 

“I know,” Evan said, his face burning. “I’m sorry.”

“It’s fine, really. I just. You know, I… Want to make sure you’re okay.”

“I’m okay,” Evan said softly, daring to look Connor in the eye. “How about you? Are you okay?”

“Yeah,” Connor said and he was breathing a little heavily, his eyes big and dilated, and fuck Evan was sitting so close to him, their knees were touching, it would be so fucking easy just to lean in and kiss Connor breathless, kiss him properly until he was weak at the knees and he wanted it so badly he wanted Connor so much -

“Alright, I’m back,” Zoe announced from the door, breaking the tension in the air. “And I brought some fucking prosecco that’s been hanging out in the back of my fridge for ages because I think this party needs some booze.” Zoe breezed past Connor to pet Edgar, then looked over at Evan and said, “You’re it.”

“Oh, cool,” Evan said, standing up and praying nobody was looking at his crotch because he was rock hard and it was fucking embarrassing. “I’ll be back soon, okay?”

“Take my keys,” Connor said. “So I don’t have to come let you back in.”

“Sure thing,” Evan said quickly, heading out the door. He made the walk home in a short amount of time, cursing the stickiness of the air still. It made him feel a little like he was walking through soup, and Evan decided the moment he walked into his new sublet that he was absolutely taking a shower before he headed back so that he didn’t return all sweaty and disgusting and… hard. 

A cold fucking shower. 

A really cold shower. 

Cody was in the living room, arguing with someone via Skype about something. Evan waved hello, said he’d be leaving again soon and quickly packed an overnight bag. Meds, pajamas, and clothes for work the next day. Then he hurried to take an ice cold shower, shivering and mercifully flaccid by the time he was done. He reapplied his deodorant, changed into shorts and an old t-shirt that read “ELLISON STATE PARK” in block letters. Evan had taken to wearing it again now that he was thinner, since a lot of his other clothes still hung off of him. 

Evan let himself inside the bookstore and then set the alarm before heading upstairs. When Evan let himself inside, Connor and Zoe were each giggling and throwing popcorn at each other. 

“I see you popped the prosecco,” Evan said with a smile. 

“Connor says you quit drinking,” Zoe said giggling a little. “Which means there’s more for me.”

The three of them worked together to clean up the mess of popcorn. Then they all changed into their pajamas, and Evan sort of wished he’d thought to bring a hoodie because while he wasn’t cold, Zoe was definitely looking at Evan’s arms and that. Made him feel very exposed and weird. 

Connor seemed to catch on and threw a blanket at Evan, which he appreciated. 

They turned on  _ Zoolander _ . Zoe was straight up offended when Evan admitted that he had never seen the movie before. 

“What?” She practically shouted. “It’s an American classic! It’s genius! Our mom loves it.”

Evan shrugged. “It’s about male models, I dunno!” He said with a laugh. “My mom and I were more, I dunno. Super hero people.”

It felt… almost okay. Almost normal, like before the coma and the BPD diagnosis, before Zoe hated Evan and Connor was so careful around him, before Evan worried that Connor might fade out of his sight at any moment.

* * *

Evan seems to like the movie, which Connor is pleased about. He’s aware that it’s kind of stupid, but Connor has positive associations with it. He remembers the first time he watched it with his mom, a few weeks after he got out of hospital after his attempt in high school. He’d been a little surprised at how much his mom had enjoyed it. 

He just hadn’t picked that she’d be into this kind of humor. 

There are a lot of things that Connor hadn’t known about his mom when he was seventeen. 

Fuck, there are a lot of things that Connor hadn’t known about his mom when he was twenty-seven. 

Connor tries not to look at Evan too much as he’s watching the movie but can’t help himself. His eyes just seem to gravitate toward him naturally. 

He laughs a lot and it makes him look younger. More relaxed. 

Evan deserves to relax. 

He’s been through so much. So fucking much. 

They all have. 

Evan’s wearing his glasses, clearly because he wants to drive Connor fucking crazy, and his hair is a little longer than he used to wear it. It’s really nice. There’s a wave to it. 

Connor wants to touch it. 

Wants to touch Evan. 

Fuck, that dream. 

Holy shit. 

Connor’s just…

So stupidly gone for him. So stupidly, hopelessly, pointlessly in love, with the last person in the world he should be in love with. 

And his subconscious is torturing him with graphic, detailed, filthy sex dreams that feel  _ real _ , that feel completely real and make him want things he can’t have, which is the worst kind of punishment. 

Still. 

This is better. 

What they have now is better, because Connor would rather have Evan as a friend than not have him at all. 

He’s glad Evan’s safe and alive. 

He’s so fucking glad Evan stayed, despite everything, because he’d be going crazy with worry if he hadn’t. 

He’d miss him so much if he hadn’t stayed. 

Derek Zoolander throws a mock-up building on the floor and Zoe and Evan burst into laughter, almost simultaneously, and Connor’s just so fucking fond of both of them, he loves them both so much, and he’s so fucking grateful they’ve put aside their differences for the day and are here with him. 

His two favourite people in the world are with him today. 

Are with him on a day that scares him. 

The day he almost left them both for good. 

“You okay?” Zoe asks, her voice low. She rests her head on Connor’s shoulder, and Connor kisses the top of her head softly. 

“Yeah,” he says quietly. “You guys are with me. I’m okay.”

* * *

Eventually, the movie ended. They all yawned and stretched and realized it had gotten late. “Right, well, I’m gonna brush my teeth and crash,” Zoe said. She gave Evan a look. “You cool with the couch if I take the spare room?”

Evan nodded. “Yeah, that works.”

“Good,” Zoe said. She went into her bag and grabbed her toothbrush, leaving Evan and Connor in the living room. 

“You don’t have to take the couch,” Connor said. 

Evan blinked a few times, bewildered, because… was that an invitation? 

No. 

There was no way. Obviously not. Evan was… being ridiculous. He had slept in Connor’s bed a few weeks back but that was different that was Connor not wanting Evan to like, light himself on fire, and that wasn’t a concern today so obviously no. Evan would take the couch. 

“It’s cool,” Evan said. “I’ve slept on it before.”

“It’s so short though.”

“I can curl up,” Evan said smiling. “Don’t worry about it.” He’d slept in Connor’s bed back in June and…. He just couldn’t do that now. Not today. He’d probably wake up to discover he had molested Connor in his sleep again. He had to take the couch. He got up and grabbed a glass of water from the kitchen to take his meds, then came back to the living room to set the couch up for sleeping. He grabbed one of the blankets that Connor had collected after his coma and spread it across the cushions, then hunted around for a pillow. 

Zoe headed to bed after giving Connor a tight hug. Connor hugged her back fiercely and pressed a kiss to the top of her head. “Love you Zo,” He said to her. 

“Love you too,” She said back, sounding a little congested. “Thanks again for not dying.”

“You’re welcome,” Connor said with a smirk. 

Evan went into his bag and realized with a groan that he’d left his toothbrush back at his apartment in his haste to come back. “Sorry, is there… Any chance my toothbrush is still here from last time? I forgot mine at home.”

Connor smiled at Evan, this almost shy smile. “Yeah. I still have it.”

They both started toward the bathroom at the same time. Then they laughed at each other a bit and both started to say, “Oh you go ahead -” at the same time. 

“Okay, this is stupid, we can just both brush our teeth,” Connor said. Evan nodded and joined Connor at the sink. They both started brushing, shoulder to shoulder. Evan caught Connor watching him in the mirror. 

It was so different than the last times they’d done this, like the night before Evan left for the treatment facility. It had been a fraught and somber night, and Connor had spent a lot of it sitting up with Evan reassuring him that he would be okay at the center, that he would be alright and Connor would stick around. Now things were… less fraught. Less somber, but… still a little.

The last time, Evan had still been sort of drunk and definitely mortified and Connor had made Evan sleep in his bed so Evan wouldn’t be alone and Evan had hurt himself and it was… Scary. He had scared himself. He knew he had scared Connor too. In the moment, it had felt like a massive backslide, rather than just a bump in the road. A blip. 

Today was different. 

Somehow lighter than those last times. 

Connor had almost died on this day last year. It was a hard fucking day. And here they were, brushing their teeth together. Almost like nothing had changed… Except everything had. 

Evan spat and looked up to see Connor pulling a grotesque and weird face in the mirror, toothpaste foam escaping his lips. Evan laughed, surprised, and returned a look of his own, crossing his eyes and sticking out his tongue. 

Connor spat. 

They both wiped away the toothpaste remnants. Neither of them rinsed their mouths. 

“Well,” Connor said then, his voice surprisingly ragged to Evan’s ear. “I should go to sleep.”

“Yeah.”

“What time do you have to be at work?”

“Not until nine,” Evan said. “And you live close so…” 

“Yeah.” 

“Well…” Connor started to turn to head out of the bathroom. 

“Wait,” Evan said softly. Connor paused. “I. Uh… Thank you for. Letting me be here today.” He tried his best to smile. “And just. For being here. For not dying. I… I’m so glad you’re here Connor.”

Connor gave Evan a smile. “I’m glad I’m here too.” He looked down at his socked feet. “Is it… Can I hug you?”

“Yeah,” Evan said, nodding. “That would… yeah.” 

He and Connor hugged tightly. Evan wanted to stay in that hug forever. Tilt his face slightly and kiss Connor until they were both breathless. 

But. 

Not now.

So he squeezed him extra tight once more and let go. “Sleep well.”

“You too,” Connor said. 

Evan retreated to the sofa. Connor turned out the lights. 

Evan laid there in the dark, his mind still turning over the events of the night. It was different. But maybe he could live with different. He could live with these little pieces of Connor’s life he was allowed to be part of now. He could live with it. 

He’d have to eventually. 


	165. ONE HUNDRED AND SIXTY-FOUR

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> “Please don’t let me go."

Evan slept strangely. He dreamt in strange ways. A dream would start happily, something silly and domestic like Evan and Connor washing dishes together but then it would quickly turn sinister, jarringly, and the happy domestic scene would warp, grow dark, and Connor would take a knife from the sink and slash his wrists while Otis screamed from a corner that it had to be like that. 

Evan woke up. 

Rolled over, shutting his eyes resolutely on the too small sofa and trying to will himself back to sleep. 

He dreamt about the hospital. About Maureen’s paper flowers and Zoe’s limp ponytail, about the day Gladys and Martha turned up with the afghan for Connor and how Evan noticed Martha’s knuckles were swollen and her eyes were too, like she had spent hours crying and working to complete the blanket and Evan watched in absolute horror as each of her fingers fell off, one by one, and she just smiled sadly and kept repeating “labor of love,” and Evan had to excuse himself to go stand outside and scream in agony because Connor needed to wake up he needed to wake up but his eyes stayed shut. 

He dreamed about the heart monitor flatlining and a funeral that didn’t happen, Connor buried in Evan’s maroon tie and Evan having to resist the urge to fling himself into the earth with Connor, demand they let him go with Connor because Connor had gone somewhere where Evan couldn’t follow and he couldn’t change it or fix it and his heart was broken and broken and broken more until it was dust, it was a fine powder and Evan dreamt of doing a line of that powder off of the bathroom sink at a New Year’s Party he didn’t belong at, of a bathroom with a girl without a name and when she unzipped her dress all of the skin came with it and there was just a skeleton, just bones bleached white and Evan dreamed of a wedding, a happy night, where Connor looked a little unsteady on his feet but okay, healthy and fine, and Evan stood at the front with Mariah to support Asher as he said his vows to Charles and at the reception Evan got a little tipsy and Connor stole some extra cake for their hotel room and they ended up having sex for the first time in a while that night, slow and careful and nice, and Connor looked so fucking beautiful and -

Evan blinked again, squinting at his watch in the dark. It was the middle of the night. He needed to fucking sleep but he couldn’t shut his brain off. He rolled over again, trying to get comfortable, annoyed with himself for agreeing to take the couch and finally drifting off again…

Evan opened his eyes to Edgar batting at his nose. 

“Dude, come on,” Connor said. “I  _ just  _ fed you.”

Evan blinked a few times, his vision blurry and seeking out the clock. “What time is it?”

Connor flopped back into bed beside Evan, curling up beside him. “Early. Way too early. Damn idiots down the street are still on their week-long Fourth of July, firecrackers-at-dawn bullshit.”

“Neat,” Evan said sleepily, still squinting around for the clock. “Fuck them.”

“You sir,” Connor said, kissing Evan briefly. “Need glasses.”

“I do not,” Evan grumbled sleepily, burying his head in Connor’s neck. “I can see fine. You’re warm. I love you.”

“I love you too,” Connor said back, kissing Evan’s head. “You wanna go back to sleep?”

Evan sighed, kissing Connor’s neck softly, pulling him closer. “No,” He said, kissing Connor’s neck again, less chaste this time and Connor shivered under his touch. “I want you.”

“Fuck,” Connor said breathily, and he kissed Evan’s lips, almost gently, pulling Evan’s body on top of his. They made out for a while, Connor running his hands up and down Evan’s back, pulling Evan’s shirt off and pressing kisses along Evan’s collarbone. “I love you.”

“I love you too,” Evan said, kissing Connor’s neck and then his mouth again, slow and unhurried. He could feel Connor getting hard beneath him and he cupped him through his pajamas, and Connor groaned. He wrapped his arms around Evan and rolled them over, climbing on top of Evan and kissing him harder. 

“You’ve been a bit bossy lately,” Connor said, his voice rough. 

“You like it when I’m bossy,” Evan returned, smirking at Connor. 

“I do,” Connor said, leaning down and kissing Evan’s neck, making him writhe beneath Connor. “I love it when you’re bossy,” He said, his hands caressing Evan’s shoulders and arms. Then his hands came to a stop, encircling Evan’s wrists and pinning them down to the mattress, his lips crashing against Evan’s in a searing kiss that left him breathless and almost dizzy and fuck he was so hard fuck. “But I think I’m in charge today.”

“Please,” Evan said, his voice rough and ragged and Connor gave him this fucking sexy grin and kissed Evan again and Evan let himself melt into it. Let Connor take the lead, kissing him until he felt almost lightheaded, grinding his hips into Evan’s, his grip never slackening on Evan’s wrists, pinning him down. 

Fuck. 

Normally, when Connor topped him it was… Either pretty vanilla or Evan was tied up and blindfolded. This was different for them, it was new, and Evan felt this strange flicker of excitement and nerves as Connor told him to leave his hands where they were as he kissed his way down Evan’s body. He stopped, biting and licking Evan’s collarbone, his fingers ghosting across Evan’s chest and Evan’s hips bucked involuntarily when Connor’s teeth teased one of his nipples. “Fuck.”

Connor hummed happily, his tongue tracing intoxicating and frustrating patterns over Evan’s stomach, and Evan felt his face heat up, suddenly ashamed and worried because he was strangely bony now, he was shrunken and thin and -

Evan blinked a few times, unsure where that thought had come from. 

His stomach looked the same as it ever had as Evan watched Connor’s lips press an almost chaste kiss to Evan’s navel, making him smile and laugh a little. 

“Fuck you’re beautiful,” Connor muttered, his fingers hooking in the waist band of Evan’s pajama pants. “I’m going to take this off. Is that okay?”

“Yes,” Evan said breathlessly, nodding fast, desperate for Connor to touch him. 

Connor pressed a lazy and warm kiss to Evan’s hip, and Evan groaned, his hips lifting almost involuntarily, and Connor leveraged that to pull his pajama pants and boxers down in one swift motion. “Fuck,” Connor breathed, and he began to kiss Evan’s hips, his inner thighs, and Evan needed him to do something, he desperately needed Connor to do  _ something.  _

“Please, Connor, fuck, I…  _ Please _ .”

Connor looked up at Evan, this big cocky grin on his face, far too pleased with himself. “What do you need, love? I want to hear you ask for it.”

Evan regretted having ever taught Connor that trick, fuck. He sighed, trying to hold on to some shred of concentration as Connor’s teeth grazed his thighs and Evan managed, breathless and moaning. 

“Please touch my cock, fuck,” Evan managed to gasp out as Connor bit his left hipbone, sucking the sensitive skin there and certain to leave a mark. “Please.”

“Good,” Connor said, and he was way too pleased with himself, Evan thought indignantly, he should just climb on top of Connor and take the reins back, show him how it felt, but then all coherent thought evaporated from Evan’s mind because Connor’s wet lips were pressed to the base of his erection and he slowly licked his way up to the tip before taking Evan in his mouth. 

“Fuck,” Evan rasped, because Connor’s mouth was… amazing, fantastic, likely a national treasure hiding in plain sight, it was hot and wet and fucking perfect and Evan was coming apart under him, he was falling apart, it had been too long it had been way too long since he’d had Connor’s mouth on him, it had been way too long since he’d felt like this, not just sex not just pleasure but connection and love and - 

Connor lifted his mouth off of Evan’s cock, distracting him from whatever line of thinking he had been entertaining. Connor replaced his mouth with his hands and stroked Evan slowly, painfully slowly, so slow it was frustrating and crazy making and he was grinning up at Evan, still fully clothed and unbelievably beautiful in the early morning light, and Evan just loved him so fucking much it poured out of him. “I love you,” He mumbled, his head thrown back, “Fuck, Connor, I love you so much I love you so much.”

“I love you too,” Connor said back, his voice raw and almost hushed. “I… Fuck. Can I fuck you? I want to fuck you Evan -”

“Yes,” Evan rushed to say. “Please, please yes.”

Connor dropped a little of the pretext of unshakable self-control, losing his clothes in a whirlwind of motion and practically diving for the nightstand to find lube and a condom. He kissed Evan deeply, slowly, holding Evan’s face possessively, and then he kissed Evan’s forehead and broke away. He poured lube out onto his fingers and began to finger Evan, pushing in one finger and then a second not long after. Evan was gasping, moaning, swearing… He was coming apart at the seams with want, he was bursting with desire and desperation and he kept repeating, “I love you Connor I love you I love you I love you” until Connor had pushed inside of him. 

Evan let out a low moan, overwhelmed by how amazing Connor felt. “Fuck,” Connor breathed against his lips, their foreheads pressed together, his hands holding down Evan’s wrists again. “Fuck, you feel so good Evan.”

“I love you,” Evan said back, leaning his face up to kiss Connor, an open and wet and breathless kiss as Connor began to fuck him harder. Evan moved his hips to meet Connor, their bodies sliding together and colliding, fast and hard and perfect so fucking perfect. “Fuck, I love you.”

“Fuck, you’re so hot,” Connor groaned, his eyes falling closed. “You’re so tight Evan, fuck, I love fucking you.”

Evan gasped as Connor reached down to stroke his cock, but Evan didn’t dare to move his hands, he didn’t dare to pull away, he’d be good and listen, he’d obey whatever Connor said. 

Connor kissed a meandering trail up Evan’s neck and then his teeth grazed the shell of Evan’s ear, making his skin erupt in goosebumps, and Evan was desperate to move in tandem with Connor’s thrusts, he had to get more of him, as much of him as he could, he needed it because it could be the last time, it might be the only chance he’d get to feel Connor’s weight on him his cock fucking him his hot breath on Evan’s skin -

“Going to make you come first,” Connor groaned, his teeth biting Evan’s bottom lip. “Wanna… see you come hard, wanna feel it, fuck.”

Evan was breathing heavily now, and he was so fucking close, he was right on the edge, and Connor angled his hips slightly, fucking Evan so perfectly, stroking him in time with each thrust and Evan felt dizzy, lightheaded, he felt unreal and overwhelmed, and he pressed his lips to Connor in a breathless and brief kiss. “I’m close,” He managed weakly. 

“That’s it,” Connor said, his voice encouraging and loving in Evan’s ear, “Just let go, love. Let go and come for me, I’ve got you, I’ve got you -”

And that was all it took and Evan was spilling into Connor’s hand, his hips snapping erratically, and he was coming and coming and coming so hard so hard and Connor kept fucking him through the orgasm, his own eyes squeezing closed, their foreheads pressed together and fingers intertwined as Connor finished with a moan against Evan’s lips, saying his name over and over, “Evan fuck Evan I love you I love you Evan fuck.”

Evan felt his heart filling with a sudden dread, a sudden realization that he wasn’t supposed to be there, that he wouldn’t be able to stay and he wrapped his arms around Connor tightly, pressing a kiss to his face and saying, “Please don’t let me go. Please… I want to stay here, don’t make me go -”

Evan sat up straight on the sofa, his heart hammering hard in his chest, his pulse out of control, his clothes sticking to him, sweaty and uncomfortable and for a second Evan thought he was genuinely having a panic attack, he thought he was hyperventilating but then it all rushed back, the date, why he was on Connor’s sofa, the fucking pornographic dreams Evan was having about his best friend. 

Fuck. 

His heart was thudding so hard in his chest, so loudly that Evan half expected he might wake Connor or Zoe up. 

Fuck fuck fuck fuck what the fuck was the matter with him? 

Evan pulled his knees to his chest, resting his chin on his knees and trying to force himself to breathe, to relax, to stop thinking about how real the dream had felt, like it was really happening, like he expected to wake up in Connor’s arms well fucked and sore but happy… 

Fuck. 

He didn’t know if the sex dreams or the death dreams were worse. 

Fuck. 


	166. ONE HUNDRED AND SIXTY-FIVE

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> “Do you ever think about us?”

Evan blinked a few times in the dark, trying to calm down, just trying to breathe when the door to Connor’s bedroom opened and the light flicked on, casting Connor’s long shadow out into the living room. Evan couldn’t really make out his expression in the dark without his glasses (which was fucking irritating, he used to be able to see just  _ fine  _ without them damn it), but Connor stepped into the living room and said in a slightly rough voice, “Why are you up?”

Evan swallowed. “Weird dreams.”

“Yeah,” Connor said, sinking down onto the sofa beside Evan heavily. “Me too.” 

Up close, Evan could see that Connor’s face was flushed, his lips bitten and his cheeks pink and… 

Fucking hell. 

Fuck had Connor dreamt it too?

Fuck. 

“Want to talk about it?” Evan asked quietly, unable to tear his eyes away from Connor’s face, his heart thumping loudly in his chest. 

Connor shook his head, “No I… It was just. Weird.” He leaned back against the sofa, mirroring Evan’s posture and pulling his own legs up to his chest, resting his head on his knees. It made him look impossibly young, unbelievably vulnerable. Evan just wanted to hug him. “Fucked up things need to stop happening.”

“Yeah,” Evan murmured softly. 

“I just mean, now I have two days a year to commemorate fucking impossible shit,” Connor said, sounding frustrated. “You’d think that the multiverse or whatever would at least let me get a decent night’s sleep.”

“I’m sorry,” Evan said. He let his hand fall to his side, and Connor did the same and, almost automatically, they had entangled their fingers. Connor’s hands were cold, but their usual cold, not like last summer. Evan had always loved Connor’s hands: his long, slender fingers, his blunt nails, the fact that they were always just slightly softer than you might expect. He held on tightly, knuckles pressing together, the pads of his fingers pressing lightly into the top of Connor’s hand. 

Connor let out a sigh, one that was heavy and spoke volumes. 

His thumb traced small circles on one of Evan’s knuckles. “Do you ever…?” Connor started, then trailed off. 

“Ever what?”

He shook his head. “Nothing. Nevermind.”

Evan frowned, bumping Connor’s shoulder with his. “Come on. Out with it.”

Connor looked Evan in the face, this blazing look in his eyes that made him feel like he was being X-rayed, like Connor could see right into his fucking soul and Evan couldn’t tear his eyes away, he couldn’t even blink. 

Connor’s lips were parted slightly, and he was breathing deeply and evenly beside Evan, still not letting go of Evan’s hand. “Do you ever… think about... us?” He asked, his voice so fucking quiet, his eyes dropping to Evan’s mouth. 

“Yeah,” Evan said in this strangled voice, a thrill running through his body, like an electric shock. “I do.”

Connor’s eyes didn’t budge from their focus on Evan’s mouth. “Me too.”

Evan took in a slightly sharp breath. Connor’s fingers still kept touching Evan’s hand, fingertips pressing into the slightly hollow space between his knuckles, their wrists pressed together, scars against scars, and Evan’s heart was racing it was pounding so hard he didn’t know what to do but he wanted Connor so much Evan wanted Connor’s hands on his body, he wanted his lips, he wanted him so badly. 

Connor broke his focus, let go of Evan’s hand and Evan fought back a complaint, almost cried out in protest because he didn’t want the moment to end, the flicker of hope, the spark of maybe, just  _ maybe…  _

But then Connor’s fingers were back, gently turning Evan’s hand palm up and putting his mutilated forearm on display. “Don’t,” Evan said weakly as Connor’s fingers ever so gently skated up the skin of his arm, his touch feather light but not hesitant, not tentative just soft, pausing at each scar for just a moment before moving on to the next. 

Then, Connor turned his own arm over, palm up, and held it beside Evan’s, the scar on his wrist shining slightly in the dim light of Connor’s living room. Two scarred left arms, pale in the semi-darkness, pressed close to one another. Evan didn’t know what it meant, but he thought he might be able to interpret some meaning. 

_ You’re not alone.  _

_ I’m not scared, not of you.  _

_ I know this. I know  _ you. 

_ I see you. _

_ I know you I know you I know you. _

Evan swallowed audibly, turning his face to look at Connor only to realize Connor was already looking at him. Their noses practically touched they were so close. Evan could feel Connor’s breath, a little uneven and still minty with toothpaste, on his lips. Connor was looking at Evan with some kind of question in his eyes, something Evan couldn’t understand or read, and Connor tilted his head slightly, his nose just barely brushing Evan’s and Evan held still, waiting… 

Waiting for a kiss that wasn’t going to come. 

Evan realized it fast, his heart beating too loudly, too fast, that this wasn’t happening. It wasn’t going to happen. 

Just like that the moment was broken.

Barely an inch apart, their noses practically touching, and Evan realized Connor wasn’t going to kiss him. 

Was probably never going to kiss him again.

Connor pulled back slightly, his eyes pained, and Evan felt as a lump grew in his throat. “I can’t,” Connor said, his voice ragged, devastated. “I… I just  _ can’t _ . Not when you...”

Evan nodded, this sort of jerky and robotic motion. “Okay.” Of course he couldn’t. Of course Connor couldn’t. Evan had hurt him too much, Evan had broken his heart, of course he wouldn’t want Evan anymore. Evan was disgusting and broken now, Evan was no good for Connor, Evan knew, he knew he knew he knew he knew that, he just got swept up. Connor didn’t want him anymore and Evan knew “I’m sorry,” He said, “I didn’t mean to -”

“No, I’m sorry, I  _ shouldn’t  _ have, I -”

“Don’t,” Evan said quietly, shaking his head. “Don’t. It’s okay.” He gave Connor’s hand a squeeze, platonic and careful, trying to fight down his disappointment and sadness and heartbreak. Connor exhaled and rested his head on Evan’s shoulder, much the same as Zoe had rested hers on Connor’s shoulder earlier. Platonic affection and nothing more. “It’s okay.”

Connor sniffed, “It’s just… sometimes I miss how things were.”

“Me too,” Evan said quietly. His eyes stung but he fought back the tears, he forced himself not to cry about this, not now, even as his heart was shattering, even as his chest ached with a loss that was already so well established. He wanted Connor so much, loved him so much but Connor… didn’t want him.

Connor let out a sort of sad half-laugh. “It’s just… hard. To be friends, sometimes?”

“Yeah,” Evan said. “It is.” He cleared his throat slightly.

“Whatever,” Connor said quietly. “It… it is what it is. We’ll get there.”

“Yeah,” Evan replied, his voice hollow in his own ears. “Honestly? We were sort of bad at being friends before.”

Connor let out a sort of soggy laugh. “ _ Yeah _ . No shit. We fucking sucked.”

“Probably because we didn’t have friends in high school,” Evan tried to joke. “We didn’t know how to do it right.”

“Hey, I had friends in college,” Connor complained. 

Evan sighed. Connor  _ had  _ had friends in college. Several. Friends who would show up to his funeral and tell watered-down versions of stoned misadventures. Friends who would travel from Ohio and their sick mother to say goodbye. Real friends. Good friends. Not like Evan, who was terrible and selfish and sick. “You’re right. I’m projecting.”

“You had friends in college,” Connor said quietly. 

Evan shook his head. That was not true. Evan was a third wheel, someone who tagged along at best. “No. Sabrina had friends in college, I just… was there.”

“Law school then.”

“Slept with all of them,” Evan said kind of dully. “So. Kinda ruined that.”

“Well,” Connor said, his voice a little stronger. He lifted his head off of Evan’s shoulder, sitting back a little and looking at him with a sort of lopsided smile. “They clearly need to just… get over themselves. I mean. You are kind of legendary in the sack, but you’re also a kickass friend.”

Evan tried to smile back. “I try.” 

“That’s all you can do.” Connor rested his head back against Evan’s shoulder, letting out a sigh. Evan wrapped his arm around him, trying to blink back tears, trying to swallow his hurt and his feelings because today was about Connor. Not about Evan. It was not about him not today. 

“Connor?” Evan said after a moment. 

“Hmm?” 

_ Do you still love me?  _

_ Have you given up on me? _

_ Can you ever forgive me? _

_ Did I ruin this?  _

_ Can I fix what I broke? Do you want me to even try?  _

“You know you’re the best person I know, right? And I… I know a lot of shit has happened between us, but I think you’re incredible and… so kind. And. You’re my best friend. So… I.”  _ Love you.  _ He took a breath because it felt hard to breathe. “I’m…”  _ Still in love with you.  _ “I’m just really glad you’re here.” 

“Me too.”

* * *

Evan’s hands are warm. 

So warm. 

Connor will never get sick of holding them. Never get sick of the warmth, the strength and comfort in Evan’s hands, despite ripped cuticles and bitten nails and calluses and all the damage he inflicts upon himself. 

He sighs. Traces small circles on Evan’s knuckles, the action almost automatic. 

Comforting, he hopes. 

“Do you ever…?”

He stops himself. 

This isn’t the time. 

It’ll never be the time. 

“Ever what?” Evan asks, his voice soft. 

Connor shakes his head. “Nothing. Never mind.”

Evan looks at him, his expression concerned. Frowning. “Come on,” he says, bumping his shoulder against Connor’s gently. “Out with it.”

Connor looks at Evan. 

Really looks at him. 

He looks young and vulnerable in the dim light of the living room, tired and sad and… hopeful. 

The dead, hopeless look in his eyes isn’t there anymore, and Connor’s so fucking glad, because that look haunts him, haunts his nightmares. 

He could have lost Evan. 

The love of his life. 

He thinks about the dream that woke him up. Evan begging him to fuck him. The taste of Evan’s skin, the feeling of fucking him, touching him, how beautiful he looked when he came with Connor’s name on his lips.

How much he wants it. 

How much he wants Evan. 

He looks at Evan’s lips. 

“Do you ever… think about… us?” he asks, his voice barely above a whisper. 

Evan’s eyes darken. “Yeah,” he says, a little breathless. “I do.”

Connor wants to kiss him. 

Wants desperately to kiss him. 

And he thinks…

He thinks Evan wants it, too. 

“Me too,” Connor admits, still staring at Evan’s lips. 

He knows they’ll be soft. Warm. 

Inviting. 

Evan takes in this sharp breath. Connor keeps holding his hand, concentrating on the feel of Evan’s skin beneath his fingers. Their wrists pressed together. 

He thinks he can feel Evan’s pulse. 

His heart beating. 

He’s so beautiful.

The most beautiful person Connor’s ever known. 

His arm moves, the tiniest bit, and Connor’s aware of the scars on Evan’s arms. The scar on his own wrist. External signs of internal pain, pain he wishes he could have spared Evan, but pain he understands. 

He lets go of Evan’s hand, just for a moment. Reaches for it again, turns up the palm so he can see the burn marks, so he can bear witness. 

“Don’t,” Evan says, his voice faint. 

Connor touches each mark softly, running his fingers up Evan’s arm.

He turns his own arm over and holds besides Evan, displaying the scar on his own wrist, so Evan can bear witness, too. 

Evan’s always seen him. 

The best of him. The worst of him. 

And he sees Evan, too. 

He sees him.

He watches his profile in the dim light, paying close attention to every detail of his face. Eyes, nose, jawline, lips. 

Evan’s looking at their arms, side by side, and Connor’s looking at Evan. 

He’s so beautiful. 

So close. 

Evan turns his face to look at him, eyes wide, and Connor can feel his breath on his lips, and it’s so fucking familiar, so fucking tempting, and Connor  _ wants.  _

He wants it so badly. 

He wants Evan so badly. 

He wants his lips on his, he wants to touch him, to hold him, to make him come undone, to hear his name on Evan’s lips. 

_ “Fuck, Connor, I love you so much I love you so much.” _

He wants it, but he won’t get it. 

Not again. 

Evan might want him, but he doesn’t love him anymore. 

Maybe he never did. 

And Connor can’t…

He pulls away. 

Evan looks at him, something unreadable in his eyes, and Connor wishes this could be enough. “I can’t,” Connor tries to explain. “I… I just  _ can’t _ . Not when you...”

_ Not when you don’t love me and I’m still so completely in love with you.  _

Evan nods, and it’s mechanical, fake. “Okay,” he says dully. “I’m sorry. I didn’t mean to-”

“No,” Connor interrupts, because this isn’t on Evan. “I’m sorry. I  _ shouldn’t _ have, I-”

“Don’t,” Evan says quietly. He shakes his head. “Don’t. It’s okay.”

Evan squeezes Connor’s hand, this comforting movement, and Connor lets out a breath. Rests his head on Evan’s shoulder, taking the comfort he can. 

Because Evan is his friend. 

His best friend. 

It’s not Evan’s fault Connor’s heart hasn’t got a handle on the status quo.

“It’s okay,” Evan says, his voice gentle. 

Connor feels like he’s going to cry. 

His eyes are stinging. He sniffs. 

“It’s just… sometimes I miss how things were.”

“Me too,” Evan says.

Connor gets what he means. He means sex. He misses the sex. 

Not the connection. The love. 

Evan doesn’t love him. 

Evan doesn’t love him and Connor has to deal with it. 

“It’s just… hard,” Connor admits. “To be friends, sometimes?”

“Yeah,” Evan says, something hollow in his voice. “It is.”

“Whatever,” Connor says, trying to convince himself that this is fine. “It… it is what it is. We’ll get there.”

“Yeah,” Evan replies. “Honestly? We were sort of bad at being friends before.”

Connor has to laugh at that. “ _ Yeah _ . No shit. We fucking sucked.”

“Probably because we didn’t have friends in high school,” Evan jokes. “We didn’t know how to do it right.”

“Hey, I had friends in college,” Connor points out. 

Evan sighs. “You’re right. I’m projecting.”

Fuck. Connor tries to make it better. “You had friends in college.”. 

Evan shakes his head. “No. Sabrina had friends in college, I just… was there.”

“Law school then.”

“Slept with all of them,” Evan says flatly. “So. Kinda ruined that.”

He slept with Connor, too. 

A lot of times. 

But Connor’s not going to let that ruin things. 

“Well,” he says, lifting his head off Evan’s shoulder and looking at him, trying to smile. “They clearly need to just… get over themselves. I mean. You are kind of legendary in the sack, but you’re also a kickass friend.”

Evan gives this awkward smile. “I try.” 

“That’s all you can do.” Connor rests his head back on Evan’s shoulder, sighing a little. Evan’s warm. Solid. Real. 

Alive. 

That’s all Connor can ask for.

It’s going to have to be enough. 

It’s quiet for a moment, until Evan breaks the silence. 

“Connor?”

“Hmm?”

“You know you’re the best person I know, right?” says Evan, his voice quiet and strong in the still of the night. “And I… I know a lot of shit has happened between us, but I think you’re incredible and… so kind. And. You’re my best friend. So… I… I’m…” 

Connor holds his breath for a moment. He doesn’t know what he’s expecting, but...

“I’m just really glad you’re here,” Evan says finally. 

Connor feels something twist painfully in his chest. 

He almost wasn’t. 

Perhaps he shouldn’t be. 

But he’s still here. And so is Evan. 

“Me too,” he says quietly. 


	167. ONE HUNDRED AND SIXTY-SIX

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> "You absolutely deserve a second chance.”

Connor’s doing some admin work for the bookstore at his kitchen table one Sunday afternoon with Evan when Evan turns to Connor with this weird look on his face. 

“The two year anniversary of you taking over the store is coming up.”

Connor considers. “Huh. Yeah, I guess it is.”

“You should do something,” Evan says, still with this weird look Connor can’t quite place on his face. “Something to commemorate it, it’s a really big deal.”

Connor shrugs. “I didn’t do anything last year.”

The weird look on Evan’s face doesn’t shift. Connor thinks he’s starting to place the expression. It’s a mix of pride and guilt, which is a weird combination that he doesn’t really know what to do with. 

“Last year you were only just out of the hospital,” Evan points out, his voice gentle. “You weren’t in any shape to do anything. All the more reason to commemorate it properly this year.”

“You mean like a party?” Connor asks, a little unsure. “I haven’t thrown a party in, like, over a year.” At Evan’s questioning look, he explains. “We didn’t throw a holiday party for the store last year. I was still… still kind of recovering.”

Evan looks at Connor for a moment. “I can help,” he offers. “I’ve got tons of spare time now, I can organize a party.”

“Seriously?” Connor asks, a little taken aback. “I kinda… figured parties weren’t exactly your thing.”

“Well, no,” Evan concedes. “But this is big, Connor. This is a huge deal. Keeping a business running successfully for two whole years… you should celebrate.” Something in his expression twists, becomes more recognizable. Even sadder. “You should… especially after last year, Connor. People might like the opportunity to celebrate that you’re here and things are going well for you.”

Connor feels that like a kick to the chest. “Yeah,” he admits. “Yeah, you’re right, I should… the bookstore kids deserve a party, and so do Gladys and Martha, and Marco and Caroline have just been so amazing and Carmen with the open mic nights has been great and-”

“You’re the one who made all of this possible,” Evan interrupts, his cheeks pink. “You’re incredible, Connor. You deserve to celebrate your success, you deserve… everything.”

“I don’t know about everything,” Connor mutters, but his heart starts to beat a little faster. 

_ I only want you.  _

_ Only you.  _

_ But you’re the one thing I can’t have anymore.  _

* * *

Evan didn’t know exactly what had come over him, suggesting that Connor throw a party. It just… the second anniversary of Connor taking over The Little Book Nook was important, it felt important and Evan just… wanted to make sure Connor got to celebrate it. 

Evan wanted Connor to have… Everything. Because Connor deserved to have everything. And he absolutely deserved to celebrate this huge accomplishment. 

Absolutely. 

So Evan ended up helping to plan a party. 

Because whatever Connor wanted, he got. Evan called their parents to ask if they’d come into for an anniversary celebration. His mom too. He didn’t quite understand her relationship with Connor but… Connor deserved to be surrounded by love. By people who cared about him, to celebrate his huge accomplishments in the face of insane circumstances. So he figured his mom ought to be there. 

“I would love that,” His mom said tentatively. “But, I mean, I know you… It can be hard for you with-”

“Mom,” Evan said. “I called you to invite you. Do you really think if I wasn’t alright with it, I’d be the one inviting you?”

She laughed a little. “Fair point.”

“And I’ll buy your plane ticket,” Evan went on. 

“You will not, Evan,” His mom said, sounding exasperated. 

“Sorry, I can’t hear you over the sound of me already booking your ticket,” Evan said with a little laugh. 

“You’re such a little shit,” Evan’s mom said fondly. “Who raised you, huh?”

“You came to visit me in New York like four times when I was in treatment,” Evan said. “I know how much that cost. Plus you might have heard that I came into some money recently? That whole lawsuit situation?” His mom laughed. “And I… I want you here. Connor wants you here. It’s, like, the least I can do.”

“I love you baby,” His mom said. “I’m just… I’m really glad you’re doing better.”

“Me too,” Evan said. “Really.”

He ran down the tentative plan for the party at The Little Book Nook for his mom. Told her about the catering options, the open bar, and the live entertainment who had agreed to perform as part of the celebration. “And I think pretty much everyone I’ve emailed is planning to come. The only maybes are Andi, because her due date is a few days after that, and... Well. Sabrina and Graham. Because, you know, Sabrina and Connor aren’t really okay right now.”

“And how was sending invites to these people?” His mom asked. “I know that....”

“That a lot of them still hate me, yeah,” Evan said, sighing. “Honestly it was fine? I sent them from the store’s email but I signed my name. I… I just want Connor to be happy.”

“Uh-huh,” Evan’s mom said. “So are you ever going to talk to him about how you’re still in love with him?”

Evan felt his face flame. “Mom, come on. You know… you know he doesn’t feel that way about me anymore.”

“Do I?” His mom said, her voice serious. “You don’t see the way he looks when he talks about you baby. And the way he looked after you when you were so sick… that’s love.”

Evan sighed. “I know… I know he cares about me. I know that without a doubt, but… I messed up so much with him, mama. I don’t think there’s any coming back from that. And I… I have to respect that. I have to… He’s my best friend and I don’t want to risk that by asking… Asking him to take me back. I don’t deserve a second chance with him.”

“Oh baby,” Evan’s mom said, sounding so sad. “You have worked so hard. Especially with Connor. You absolutely deserve a second chance.”

* * *

Connor doesn’t work on the store floor all that often these days, but he has gotten into the habit of covering the lunch shift on the days that Jax and Maureen are rostered on so they can have lunch together. It’s been over a year since the two of them started dating and they’re still ridiculously cute. 

It’s nice to see, even if it makes Connor feel weirdly hollow sometimes. 

Makes him miss the way things were when he and Evan were together. 

Connor’s tidying up a display when Mr. Markowitz from the hardware store next door shows up. It’s been a long time since Connor’s seen the guy and he’s looking pretty worse for wear - much older, for one thing, and he’s not walking as well as he used to. 

Still has resting grumpy-old-bastard face, though. 

“Mr. Markowitz,” says Connor politely. “Nice to see you. It’s been a while.”

“Yes it has,” says Mr. Markowitz, his tone matter-of-fact. He still has that rough voice and a thick New York accent. “Glad to see you’re on your feet. Way I heard it, you were near death’s door last year.”

“I’m doing much better,” says Connor, still trying to be polite. 

He’s never really liked Mr. Markowitz all that much. Neither have Gladys and Martha, to be fair. Gladys once described him as ‘a homophobic ass of a man’ and Connor has to admit, it’s a damn good description. 

“Thought I should tell you in person that I’m retiring,” says Mr. Markowitz bluntly.

“Congratulations,” Connor says, not a hundred percent sure if that’s the right thing to say but giving it a go anyway. “I’m sure you’ll be looking forward to having more time to yourself.”

“Eh,” says Mr. Markowitz. “At the very least, I might get some more goddamn sleep.” 

“So will the store be under new management?” Connor asks. 

Mr. Markowitz shrugs. “It’s up in the air at the moment. Wife wants me to sell up, building and all, so we can move to Florida and retire there. I’d like to sell it to someone who plans to keep it a hardware store, but the truth is… we’ve been hemorrhaging money for the past decade. People just don’t visit hardware stores anymore.”

Connor, who has never once in his life had to visit a hardware store, doesn’t disagree. “Would you sell the building to someone who didn’t want to keep it a hardware store?” Connor finds himself asking. 

Mr. Markowitz looks at him, his dark brown eyes shrewd. “Why, you interested?”

“I might be,” says Connor, almost despite himself. 

He hasn’t really thought about his plans to expand The Little Book Nook since before he got sick. It’s been something that’s been at the back of his mind since the early days of taking over the store, the possibility of running a cafe connected to the bookstore. 

There might be other things he could do, now that he thinks about it. 

There’s an apartment above the hardware store, just like the one above the bookstore. It could be emergency housing for people who are sleeping rough, people who are where Otis and Maureen used to be. 

They could get a proper kitchen installed and start serving meals more regularly for people who need them. 

Connor could put in a studio space for Otis to teach guitar lessons, maybe get in touch with some other musicians and see if they want to teach there as well, or even rent the space for rehearsals. 

There’s… a lot Connor could do with that space. 

“How about we set up a meeting, you and I,” says Mr. Markowitz. “And my son, he’s a lawyer.” Something flicks across Mr. Markowitz’s face. He looks uncomfortable. “You, uh, you’ve got that lawyer friend, don’t you? Maybe bring him along.”

“Actually,” says Connor, a little awkwardly, “my dad’s doing the legal work for the store now. But he’s in town for business a lot. I’ll talk to him and set up a time.”

Mr. Markowitz seems to relax at that. He thanks Connor and heads on his way, leaving Connor with a lot to think about. 

“I think this could be a great investment,” says Connor’s dad when Connor floats the idea over the phone later that night. “Real estate in the city is always worthwhile, and god knows you can afford it.”

“I don’t know exactly what I want to do with the space yet,” Connor says. “But I think that if Mr. Markowitz wants to sell, I should take the opportunity, even if I don’t have a solid plan in place yet.”

“You’re not likely to get this opportunity again,” Larry agrees. “I think it’s worth doing.”

“I’ll set up the meeting,” Connor says. “You’re in town next week, right?”

“I am,” says Connor’s dad. There’s a pause. “Whatever you do with the place, there’s going to be a lot of legal work required. I’m happy to help get the building purchase sorted but you might want to consider working with someone in the city once you’ve got a better picture of what you want to accomplish.”

The weight of what Larry’s saying hangs in the air between them for a long moment. 

“You think I should talk to Evan about it.”

“He’s very good,” Larry points out. “Very thorough. He lives locally, he’s got time on his hands since he started working for a non-profit and he knows The Little Book Nook inside and out.” Connor’s dad kind of sighs. “This isn’t me trying to bow out. If he says no, I’m more than happy to do whatever it takes to make this work for you. I just think that it might be worth having a conversation with Evan.”

Connor feels something clench in his chest. “I don’t… want him to feel obligated.”

“I don’t think he’ll see it that way.” 

“Okay,” says Connor, nodding to himself. “I… I can ask him later. Once we get the paperwork for buying the building, I’ll ask him for help with whatever comes next.”

“Good,” says Connor’s dad, sounding like he means it. “I think it’d mean a lot to him, and that he’d do a much better job than I would.”

“I’m going to tell him you said that,” Connor teases. 

“Don’t you dare,” his dad replies immediately with an easy laugh. “I’ll never hear the end of it.”

It takes a surprisingly short amount of time for Connor to officially own the building next door and the day before the second anniversary of Connor owning The Little Book Nook, he and his dad meet up with Mr. Markowitz and his son to sign the paperwork. 

“And you haven’t told your employees yet?” Connor’s dad asks as they head out for lunch to celebrate. 

“I haven’t told anyone,” Connor admits. “I… I kind of wanted to be sure it was going to happen before I did.”

“Keeping it close to your chest,” says Connor’s dad with a nod. “I get that.” He grins. “You should announce it tomorrow at the party, now that it’s all official.”

Connor considers. “It’d definitely make an impression,” he says with a smile.

“You could pull it off. You’ve got a flair for the dramatic.” Larry grins. “You get that from me, you know. Lawyers are dramatic people.”

“Oh, so that’s why you kept trying to get me to go to law school,” Connor replies with a roll of his eyes.

Larry’s smile wilts just a little. “I still maintain you would have been a great lawyer,” he says, his tone deliberately light. “But it’s far more important to me that you’re happy and healthy. I see now how happy The Little Book Nook makes you, Connor.” He puts a hand on his shoulder and squeezes it briefly. “You’re going to keep doing amazing things with that place. I can’t wait to see it happen.”


	168. ONE HUNDRED AND SIXTY-SEVEN

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> “He’s the love of my life. It’s not his fault he doesn’t feel the same way.”

The day of the party, Evan’s at Connor’s apartment before the store opens. When Connor goes downstairs to let him in, he’s still in his pajamas. Evan’s got coffee and donuts and he greets Connor with a smile. 

“Did I wake you up?” Evan asks. 

“No,” Connor assures him, opening the door to let him in. “I was up, just being lazy. Is that coffee?”

“Well-spotted,” Evan jokes, and Connor grins and takes the cup. He almost kisses Evan, right then and there, this weird, muscle-memory kind of movement, but he manages to stop himself just in time. 

Being friends with your ex definitely has its challenges, he thinks to himself as he leads Evan up the stairs. 

Edgar rubs his little face on Evan’s ankles, purring contentedly, then meows at his food bowl until Connor fills it up. Evan takes a seat at the kitchen table, opens the box of donuts then pulls out his laptop. 

“Okay,” he says, grabbing a donut and pulling up a document. “I have the to-do list for today. Honestly, most of it is just waiting around for things to get dropped off, but there are a few things that need picking up.” 

“You know, I have successfully thrown a party without a spreadsheet before,” Connor jokes as he sits down next to him and grabs a donut. 

“I know,” says Evan, his tone a little defensive. “But this is a big deal, you know? It’s the two year anniversary of you officially owning the bookstore. That’s huge. It deserves to be celebrated.”

Evan looks at him when he says that, and his face is soft and fond and heartbreakingly familiar and Connor feels his heart clench painfully. 

There are times when being just friends with Evan is so fucking painful it feels like Connor’s being stabbed, it feels like he can’t breathe. But he’s clearly some variety of masochist because he keeps coming back for more, keeps on spending time with his ex-boyfriend, the man he thought he’d spend the rest of his life with, even when it hurts. 

Because Evan was his friend first. 

His best friend. The best friend he’s ever had. 

He won’t throw that away just because his heart hasn’t quite got the memo yet. 

Connor drinks his coffee and eats a donut, then excuses himself to get changed quickly, throwing on the one pair of shorts he owns with a t-shirt and flip-flops because it’s hot as balls and he knows he’s going to be running around doing all sorts of things to get ready for the party. When he goes back into the kitchen, he notices Evan staring at him. 

“Since when do you wear shorts?” Evan asks, looking a little amused. 

“I know, I look super fucking weird,” Connor says, feeling his cheeks color. “But it’s so fucking hot, dude. I swear I’m going to melt.”

Evan looks at him for a moment, then his whole face breaks into this bright smile, a smile so bright it rivals the sun, and Connor loves him so fucking much. 

_ Stop it, _ he tells himself. 

“What?” he says instead. 

Evan just keeps smiling. “It’s just… it’s good that you’re warm,” he says, still with that smile. “I… I like that you’re not cold.”

Connor feels his stomach twist weirdly. “Yeah,” he says, his throat a little dry. He tries for a joke. “I mean, at least when you’re cold, you can put on more layers of clothing. When you’re hot, there’s only so many layers you can remove in polite company.”

The minute the words are out of his mouth, Connor realizes that they have backfired spectacularly, because now he’s thinking about Evan naked. 

It’s been over a fucking year since he saw Evan naked, he absolutely should not be thinking about that right now, Jesus  _ fuck _ that’s not even a little bit appropriate for friends, friends who aren’t having sex and will continue to not be having sex Connor needs to stop picturing his ex-boyfriend and best friend naked fucking fuck. 

Evan is looking right at him. He clears his throat and bites his lip and Connor really, really, really wants to kiss him. 

He’s such a fucking disaster, oh my god. 

Finally, Evan looks at his spreadsheet. “Okay,” he says with a nod. “It’s just gone nine o’clock now. Carmen’s dropping off her sound system at 9.15, the tables and chairs are being dropped off at 10 and they’re going in the storeroom until 4 when we close up the bookstore.” He frowns. “And Andre needs someone to help with the alcohol delivery between 9 and 10. I can go do that after Carmen drops off the sound system?”

“Are you sure?” Connor asks cautiously.

“Of course,” says Evan, like it’s silly of Connor to ask. “I said I’d help today with whatever needed doing.”

Connor nods. “I know, it’s just… you’re not drinking these days and I don’t want to-”

“Just because I’m not drinking doesn’t mean I can’t help carry boxes,” Evan says firmly. He gives Connor a soft smile. “I’m fine, I promise. I just want to help.”

“Okay,” says Connor with a nod. “Okay, sure, that’s great.” He smiles. “Thank you. It’s really nice of you.”

Evan’s face softens even more. “Of course. It’s the least I can do.”

Fuck. 

That smile is going to be the death of him. 

Evan continues going through the spreadsheet and running through the agenda for the day. Both of Connor’s parents are coming, as is Heidi, and they’re all of the same flight, which Zoe’s going to meet just after lunch. The catering is arriving at 11.30, and they’ve hired some wait staff to help keep the proceedings going smoothly so Connor and the bookstore kids can relax and enjoy themselves, who’ll arrive at 4 to help set up. There’s going to be live entertainment, featuring regulars from the open mic nights, as well as Otis. And the bookstore will be closed on Sunday to give everyone a chance to recover. 

It’s shaping up to be quite the event. It’s almost overwhelming. 

But it’s nice. 

At least this time Connor doesn’t have to worry about completely fucking up his relationship with Evan, like he thought he had this time two years ago. After everything they’ve been through, that particular miscommunication feels like a mild disagreement. 

Connor watches as Evan goes through the game plan with almost military precision and thinks to himself that in a lot of ways, he’s really fucking lucky. 

Lucky to still have this incredible man in his life. 

Lucky they’re both still here, in the same universe, alive and well. 

He needs to keep himself in check and not go wishing for more. 

Wishing for something that’s in the past, that’s been and gone, that he’ll never get back. 

Leslie arrives just as Carmen finishes unloading her gear into the bookstore, and Evan takes that as his cue to head to the liquor store to meet Andre. Carmen heads off to her day job, saying she’ll see them at five, and Leslie and Connor make sure there’s enough space in the stock room to put all the things they need for the party that will be arriving throughout the day without causing too much disruption for the customers. 

“I’m so excited,” Leslie says enthusiastically as they stack up some boxes to make more room. “It’s going to be so much fun, oh my god.”

“It’s going to be great,” Connor says sincerely, picking up a stack of boxes and putting them on a shelf. Leslie comes around the corner, looks at him and bursts out laughing. 

“What?”

“Oh my god, I didn’t even notice you were wearing shorts,” she giggles. “Your legs look like an albino chicken.”

“Cool, so... you’re fired.”

Leslie just laughs harder. “I’ve never seen you wear shorts,” she says. “Ever. Oh my god.”

“It’s hot,” Connor points out for what feels like the hundredth time. “Let me live.”

“So,” says Leslie after a moment, her voice casual. “You and Evan got your shit sorted and gotten back together yet?”

“We’re just friends,” says Connor, and this is something he feels like he’s said a hundred times as well. “Just because we used to date doesn’t mean we can’t be friends.”

Leslie just looks at him. “You didn’t just ‘used to date’,” she says, something gentle in her tone. “You were in love. Properly, stupidly, completely in love.”

Connor sighs. “Love isn’t everything,” he says, a little wearily.

Leslie does not look convinced. “I don’t get it. You love him. He loves you. You’ve both been through hell, you deserve to be happy.”

“I love him,” Connor admits, because there’s no universe where he doesn’t. “But he… he doesn’t feel the same way.” Connor shrugs. Tries to ignore the screaming in his chest. “Not anymore. I… maybe he never did.”

“Bullshit,” says Leslie, something fierce in her expression. “That’s bullshit, he-”

“He knows how I feel,” Connor says quietly. “I… I’ve made it clear how I feel, and he… he needs me to be his friend, and that’s fine, that’s okay. He’s my best friend, I’m not… I’m not going to let how I feel get in the way of what he needs.”

“What about what you need?” Leslie asks, frowning. 

“I need him to be okay,” Connor says simply. “I need him to be happy and healthy and alive and… and okay. I love him. Evan is the only person I have ever loved. The only person I’ll ever love.” He blinks a few times. “He’s the love of my life. It’s not his fault he doesn’t feel the same way.”

Leslie just looks at him for a moment, her expression horribly sad. 

“Hey Connor,” a voice calls out from the doorway. “Where do you want these boxes?” 

Connor looks over to see Evan and Andre standing there, both carrying a couple of boxes full of alcohol. He steadies his shoulders, then heads over to show them where to put them. Once Andre’s put the boxes down, he pulls Connor into a bear hug, almost lifting him off the ground. 

“Congratulations on two years!” says Andre with a huge grin. “I gotta run, Celeste has a softball game, but the rest of the boxes are at the door. Can’t wait to see you tonight, it’s gonna be a good one!”

With that, Andre’s out the door. Leslie looks at her watch. “Guess I’d better open up,” she says with a sigh. She looks at Connor, then to Evan, then at Connor again. “Okay, you two, stay out of trouble and let me know if you need anything.”

“Pretty sure everything’s under control,” Connor assures her. “Evan has a spreadsheet.”

Evan offers a smile. “I’ll go get the rest of those boxes,” he says, then heads back out of the storeroom. 

* * *

So the spreadsheet was probably a little overkill. 

...A lot overkill. 

He just needed to  _ do  _ something. After everything Connor had done for him? He needed to do something. 

Evan could practically hear his therapist Oliver chuckling at him in his head. He and Evan had been working together for a few months now, since Evan had gotten out of the hospital. That’s what Oliver called it - working together. 

“You’re a really hard worker,” Oliver liked to remind him when things got frustrating. “But sometimes when you commit to things, you overcommit. Sometimes you can, in fact, half-ass stuff.”

Evan had never really half-assed anything in his life except dying so… 

New concept. He was still adjusting to it. 

He liked Oliver though. Something about his approach just… worked better than things with Marcia ever had. He was honest, and blunt sometimes, but also kind and, something Evan had never really appreciated as something he needed before, would laugh along when Evan made awkward self-deprecating half-jokes about how fucking bullshit recovery was. 

Marcia would typically just sort of frown whenever he did that. 

And when Evan asked Oliver what was up with that?

“Well, you’re trying to process something that makes you really insecure and laughing a little makes you feel more comfortable,” Oliver said with a kind smile. “I don’t really see the point in intentionally making you feel more uncomfortable? Some discomfort is good, normal, necessary even but… There’s no need to push it.” Oliver smiled a lot. “Also it’s, like, genuinely funny sometimes, thinking about the things brains will tell us about ourselves. Especially when you laugh to put distance between what your brain says and what you know to be true. As far as coping skills go? It’s pretty damn healthy.”

Evan hadn’t known what to do with that. After the session he just walked around with this stupid huge smile for a few hours because like… someone got it?

It felt big. 

Small, in the grand scheme, but so big to him. 

The point was… he was not half-assing helping with this party despite his therapist telling him he had a free pass to not try so damn hard. Evan knew this party was the exception, not the rule. Which meant that yes, he had put together a spreadsheet and also an entire production schedule, and yes, Evan knew that was A Bit Much. 

But he could laugh about it a bit. 

He and Oliver-his-therapist also both agreed it was probably because Evan didn’t know how to have a life outside of his job quite yet. The transition from an exhaustingly taxing job as a junior partner to working at an environmental nonprofit meant he’d taken a bit of a pay cut, sure, but also that he’d taken his schedule from an average of eighty to a hundred hours per week to… forty. 

There were just a lot more hours in the day suddenly. A lot more. 

And Connor was the most important person in his life, Connor was his absolute favorite person, and his accomplishments deserved celebrating.

So. Overkill, whole-ass party spreadsheets. 

There were worse ways of coping. 

And he’d tried all of the worst ways. 

Evan finished helping unload the first wave of the alcohol for the party with Andre, the bottles clinking slightly in the boxes, and Andre suddenly stopped in the middle of his story about his daughter Celeste’s unexpected and sudden love of softball, how he thought she might try pitching once she was a little older, because Andre and Evan could hear Connor talking to someone in the storeroom. 

“I need him to be happy and healthy and alive and… and okay. I love him. Evan is the only person I have ever loved. The only person I’ll ever love… He’s the love of my life. It’s not his fault he doesn’t feel the same way.”

Evan’s heart leaped. 

Connor loved him?

Actively, presently… still?

Evan had thought… he’d thought…

After Nate, Evan assumed that… that Connor had moved on.

Andre looked at Evan, his eyebrows up, like he might say something and Evan stood there, unsure what to do for a pregnant moment. “Hey Connor,” Andre called out, his voice louder than was strictly necessary, as if he was intentionally trying to announce their presence. “Where do you want these boxes?” 

Connor looked over at them, smiling suddenly. 

Evan’s heart did a backflip. Fuck. 

He moved away from where he was talking to Leslie, indicating a cleared out space in the storeroom. Andre put down the boxes he was carrying, and Evan gently stacked his on top of Andre’s. He turned just in time to watch Andre pull Connor into a big hug, almost lifting his feet off of the ground. 

Evan totally understood the impulse to just… hug Connor. He held himself back from it all of the damn time. 

“Congratulations on two years!” Andre said, and he was wearing this huge smile that totally changed how his face looked, made him look younger. “I gotta run, Celeste has a softball game, but the rest of the boxes are at the door. Can’t wait to see you tonight, it’s gonna be a good one!”

He winked at Evan once he left. 

Evan thought he might just… disintegrate from embarrassment, but Connor didn’t seem to notice. 

Leslie looked at her watch. “Guess I’d better open up,” she said, sighing. She gave Connor a significant and slightly too long look. Then she looked at Evan. Then back at Connor. “Okay, you two, stay out of trouble and let me know if you need anything.”

_ Stay out of trouble,  _ Evan thought, amused, almost. There wasn’t much more trouble he could get into these days. 

“Pretty sure everything’s under control,” Connor said to Leslie. He grinned at Evan. “Evan has a spreadsheet.”

Evan smiled sheepishly. “I’ll go get the rest of those boxes,” he said, his face heating up under Connor’s gaze. He headed back to the front door and scooped up the next two booze boxes, carrying them into the storeroom. It took him a final trip to get everything sorted and into the storeroom. 

A year ago he could have done it in one. 

But physically, he still had some recovering to do.

Apparently a diet of only alcohol and cigarettes for the better part of six months did not help to build muscle. Who knew?

So he was a little more careful with himself. 

He was pointedly not thinking about what he and Andre had overheard. In part because Evan was still back five minutes ago, thinking he really needed to learn not to fucking eavesdrop. In part because…

That was. Connor was wrong. 

_ “He’s the love of my life. It’s not his fault he doesn’t feel the same way.” _

But Evan did feel the same way. He’d felt that way for… it felt like he’d felt that way for forever. Felt like Connor was it for him. 

He just knew he’d screwed it all up. He thought that he had fucked it up beyond repair, that he had fucked it up so badly that Connor’s feelings had waned, changed, stopped. He assumed there was no coming back from the awful things he had done, and Evan had learned to… accept that. 

Connor was his best friend. He had stuck by Evan through genuinely his worst. He had saved his life, literally, and taken care of Evan when Evan had done nothing to deserve it. He didn’t think there would ever be more than that. He didn’t exactly love that… He was in love with Connor, completely and truly, but given the choice of being friends or nothing at all, Evan would pick Connor. 

He’d pick Connor. Because every time he hadn’t, Evan had come to regret it. Every time he hadn’t picked Connor, all he did was miss Connor. 

The catering people wouldn’t be arriving for another hour, so Evan headed back upstairs to Connor’s apartment. He saw Connor in the kitchen, washing up a few dishes, his hair tied back, still wearing those shorts. 

Evan never thought seeing a pair of skinny legs poking out of a pair of shorts would ever bring him joy, but it did. It made him feel like his heart might swell, might burst, because Connor was in shorts. He was warm. Warm enough that he needed to wear shorts. 

It was the best news. 

The very best. 

It made Evan want to grab him into a tight hug from behind, kiss Connor’s neck, tell him how much he loved him but that… 

He didn’t know if Connor would want that. Just because he said he loved Evan… 

Evan’s brain skipped back to a conversation he had with Larry Murphy of all people, during the months when Evan and Connor weren’t speaking. Larry had said, his voice quiet and full of pain, that sometimes love just wasn’t enough. 

Evan should talk to Connor. Tell him what he’d accidentally overheard. At worst they’d have an awkward conversation and feel weird for a little bit. For a worst-case scenario, it wasn’t so terrible. Evan should talk to him.

...After the party. Connor deserved to have a nice party tonight without Evan complicating everything. 


	169. ONE HUNDRED AND SIXTY-EIGHT

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> “I know you’d be careful with it. I trust you.”

Connor has to admit, there’s something to be said for Evan’s spreadsheet. It’s the most ridiculously thorough thing he’s ever seen in his life, broken down into half an hour intervals, and seems like overkill but it’s genuinely working. Everything is going exactly according to plan. 

There’s a first time for everything, apparently. 

Once everything downstairs is all sorted, Connor gets himself ready for the party. He showers, shaves and changes into his favorite pair of jeans and the shirt with pineapples on it, the shirt he wore on his first date with Evan. 

He remembers how much Evan had liked it. 

Which isn’t why he’s wearing it, obviously. He’s wearing it because it’s his nicest short-sleeved shirt and it’s still really fucking hot. 

Connor puts his hair up then examines his reflection in the mirror. 

Not bad, all things considered. 

He heads out of the bathroom and into the kitchen, where Evan’s sitting at the table with his spreadsheet. He looks up when Connor arrives and doesn’t look away for what feels like a long time. 

“What?” Connor asks. 

Evan looks embarrassed. “Nothing,” he says, finally looking away. “Just… you look nice.”

“Oh,” Connor replies, trying to ignore the stupid butterflies in his stomach at the compliment. “Thanks.”

Evan smiles, then closes his laptop. “I should, uh… I should change too,” he says, a little awkwardly. “I, uh… do you mind if I use your shower?”

“Of course,” Connor says immediately. He smiles. “I’ll head downstairs and make sure everything’s okay, you… take your time.”

When Connor heads downstairs, Carmen’s there setting up her sound system, along with a couple of other regulars from the open mic night who are performing. 

And Otis, who grins widely when he sees Connor and pulls him into a huge hug. 

“Hey man,” says Connor with a smile. “It’s good to see you.”

“You too,” says Otis. Connor looks his friend up and down, noting with satisfaction that he looks good. Well rested, lucid and calm. “Congratulations, man. Big night for you.”

“Two years,” Connor says, nodding. He laughs a little and rakes his hand through his hair. “It feels like longer, but like I only started yesterday.”

Otis nods and smiles. Puts his hand on Connor’s shoulder and squeezes it gently. “You deserve what happens next,” he says, his voice soft. “You’ve suffered enough.”

Connor’s gotten used to the weird shit Otis says by now. Sort of. 

He doesn’t ask what the fuck he’s talking about. 

It’ll make sense in the end. It always does. 

Connor helps them get the rest of the sound system setup and Otis takes a seat behind the sound desk. Carmen’s helped put together a good lineup of performers for the night and Otis starts getting everyone sound-checked. 

Sometime in the middle of the soundcheck, Connor’s dad shows up. 

There’s this kind of weird soaring in his chest at the sight of his dad, here in his bookstore, having come all the way from out of town to help celebrate two years. It’s such a stark contrast from when he took over the store that it’s almost jarring. 

His dad’s in a polo shirt and khakis and he smiles when he sees him. 

“You’re early,” Connor says as he heads over to greet him. 

“I know,” his dad says with a shrug. “I wanted to lend a hand and help set things up.” He looks around. “But as far as I can tell, you’ve got everything under control.”

Connor smiles and takes a look around the room himself. The whole store has basically been transformed. There’s a bar in the corner, plenty of casual seating, tables for the food to go on and even a space that the bookstore kids insist will definitely end up a dance floor. The whole place is covered in these beautiful paper lanterns Maureen had painstakingly folded in the weeks leading up to the event. She’s filled them with lights so that when it gets darker, the whole place will glow. 

“Well, Evan had a spreadsheet,” Connor says, and his dad laughs. 

“Of course he does.” His dad hands Connor a neatly wrapped parcel. “Figured I’d give this to you while I’ve still got your undivided attention. Go ahead, open it.”

From the shape and weight, it’s obviously a book. Connor carefully pulls back the wrapping paper to reveal a copy of  _ The Narrative of Arthur Gordon Pym of Nantucket _ by Edgar Allan Poe. It’s old, really old, and when Connor carefully examines the title page, he sees that it’s a first edition. 

“Holy shit,” he says, just staring at it reverently for a while. “This is…”

“It’s a first edition,” says his dad, sounding pleased. “It’s Poe’s only novel. I, uh, haven’t read it, but I found it online and figured you’d appreciate it.”

“This must have cost a fortune,” Connor says, running his fingers over the worn cover in amazement. “Thank you so much, this is… thank you, Dad.”

Connor’s still not used to hugging his dad, but he goes for one anyway, because he can’t not, and it’s less awkward than he fears it’ll be. His dad is solid and warm and hugging him still feels unusual, unexpected, but Connor likes it. 

“You’re welcome, Connor,” his dad says with a soft smile. “I am so proud of you.”

“I’m going to put this upstairs,” Connor says. “I want to keep it safe. I’ll be right back.”

He heads upstairs quickly, opens the door of the apartment and nearly runs straight into Evan. 

“Fuck, sorry,” he says, and he knows he’s still grinning like an idiot, and Evan looks at him with questioning eyes. He holds up the book. “I, uh… my dad gave me this book? It’s a first edition copy of Poe’s only novel and it’s so fucking cool, oh my god.”

Evan’s eyes widen and he looks at the book. “That’s awesome, oh my god.” Connor hands it to him and he examines it gingerly. “I don’t think I’ve actually read this.”

“I read it in my undergrad,” Connor says, remembering. Evan hands the book back and Connor brushes his fingers over it reverently. “I’ll lend it to you when I’ve had the chance to read it again.”

Evan looks almost nervous at the prospect. “Connor, I couldn’t-”

“Of course you could,” Connor says with a roll of his eyes. “I know you’d be careful with it. I trust you.” 

He looks at Evan and suddenly finds himself hit with just how fucking good he looks. Evan’s still thinner than he used to be, but he’s nowhere near as bad as he was in February, and he’s wearing jeans and a short-sleeved button-down shirt that look really, really good on him. He’s wearing his glasses, the glasses that kind of drive Connor completely crazy because he looks so fucking hot in them, the glasses that he knows Evan is still self-conscious about needing. 

The first time Evan wore his glasses after they started talking again, Connor’s brain very nearly short-circuited completely, he nearly totally lost it, he nearly blurted out right then and there how hot he thinks the glasses are. He’d managed to stop himself, thankfully, because Evan was drunk and sad and it was seriously not the fucking time. 

Every time he sees Evan in his glasses, his heart does a somersault, like it’s training for the fucking Olympics. It’s… intensely distracting. 

Evan smells like Connor’s sandalwood body wash and Connor’s almost overwhelmed by how much he wants to pull him close, to kiss him until neither of them can think about anything else, to ignore every other person in this building and just focus entirely on Evan. 

“You look nice,” he says instead, because Evan is his friend and he can say that. It’s completely fine for him to say that. “I, uh, I’ll put this away and meet you downstairs, yeah?”

Evan nods. “Okay.”

With that, Connor heads into his room and puts the book carefully on his bedside table. Takes a moment to take in a deep breath and let it out slowly. 

Tonight’s about celebrating the bookstore and how far the business has come, so he needs to focus on throwing a good party and making sure everyone has a good time and just savoring the moment. He needs to be present and focused and here, because…

This is good. He’s worked hard. He deserves this, and so do the bookstore kids. 

And so does Evan. Evan, who’s always understood just how important The Little Book Nook is, who worked hard to help Connor make his dream a reality, who’s been there from the beginning, who helped keep the business going when Connor was in the hospital last year. 

Tonight’s a celebration of how far they’ve come. 

There’s no need to ruin it by wishing he could get back something that’s firmly in the past. 

* * *

Evan looked in the mirror in Connor’s bathroom and smiled a little at himself. He looked okay. Different. He’d gotten a haircut a few weeks back that he was still deciding if he liked. It was a bit longer on top than he usually left it, and apparently, when left a little bit longer, Evan’s hair was a bit wavy. And he was wearing his glasses, even though he didn’t always. He didn’t strictly need them for everyday stuff, but Evan was trying to try out this crazy thing where he took care of himself, and wearing his glasses was a part of that. The dark blue frames looked nice with this outfit. The shirt was new - his new workplace did casual Fridays and Evan had no acceptably casual clothes so he had to go out and buy some - it looked okay. Nice. He liked the light blue. 

Connor had picked it out. He rarely did his own shopping but he accompanied Evan for his outing because shopping made him feel a bit anxious and Evan always felt less anxious with Connor around. He said the blue looked nice. Brought out Evan’s eyes. 

Then his face got pink. 

And he cleared his throat and looked away. 

And apparently Connor was still in love with Evan. 

Which was something. 

Something that filled him up, made him feel like he might burst, pop like an overfilled balloon. 

Evan still wasn’t quite sure he was brave enough to go to a party in short sleeves. His arms weren’t as bad looking anymore, but there were still quite a few obvious scars. He frowned slightly at one of them, close to his wrist. He could put on a cardigan. He had one in his bag… But it was warm out today. It was really warm and he liked this short sleeve shirt so. No cardigan. No hiding. Evan fiddled with the top button in the mirror, debating whether or not he should undo it. He left it done up. If he left it undone he’d feel self-conscious. 

Evan needed to get downstairs. Soundcheck would be happening and he was going to make sure everything was set up before the bartender arrived. He headed for the door when Connor practically barrelled into him. Evan’s arms immediately steadied him by grabbing him around the middle. Evan pulled his hands away quickly. 

Connor was grinning so wide. “Fuck, sorry,” Connor said, still smiling. Evan looked at him uncertainly. Connor held up a book. “I, uh… my dad gave me this book? It’s a first edition copy of Poe’s only novel and it’s so fucking cool, oh my god.”

Evan smiled back, thinking that Larry Murphy had sort of knocked the gift out of the park. Did it make up for missing the original opening? Of course not. But Larry was trying with Connor now. And he was doing a… a great job. 

It was so nice to see Connor smiling so hard about something his dad had done. So nice. 

“That’s awesome, oh my god.” Connor handed the book over, and Evan turned it over gingerly in his hands. “I don’t think I’ve actually read this.”

“I read it in my undergrad,” Connor said. Evan handed the book back and Connor ran his fingers across the cover with a sort of transfixed wonder. He just looked so fucking happy. Evan wanted to bottle that feeling, hang onto it for bad days. “I’ll lend it to you when I’ve had the chance to read it again.”

Evan shook his head, because he could not, absolutely not borrow this book from him. It was too important, too rare, too precious. “Connor, I couldn’t-”

“Of course you could,” Connor rolled his eyes. “I know you’d be careful with it. I trust you.” 

Evan felt… He still felt like he didn’t deserve that trust. He was working on it, but he felt a lot like he wasn’t worthy of it. Like he hadn’t earned it back. 

Connor was looking at him, Evan realized. Really looking at him. Evan felt his face grow warm. 

“You look nice,” Connor said after a moment, like he had been rolling around options for what to say and decided on that. “I, uh, I’ll put this away and meet you downstairs, yeah?”

Evan nodded. “Okay.”

Connor thought he looked nice. 

Evan caught himself smiling as he headed down the stairs, onto the sales floor of The Little Book Nook, which had been rearranged to accommodate a party. Soundcheck was just finishing and Otis got up from his seat behind the soundboard to pull Evan into a huge hug. 

Otis was really a sweet kid, Evan thought. And really. Just a kid. He was so  _ young _ . He and Evan grabbed coffee pretty frequently now. 

“Hey man,” Otis said to him. He released Evan from the hug and Evan sort of laughed awkwardly, because the pair of them were both appraising one another. Otis looked good. His eyes were clear and he was smiling, looking happy and lucid and here. 

Evan hoped he looked similar. 

“You changed your hair,” Otis said suddenly. 

“What?” Evan said, reaching up to it self consciously. “Oh. Yeah. Thought I’d try something a little different.” He shrugged slightly. “How’s it going?”

Otis smiled big at him. “Good, good.” He clapped Evan on the shoulder. “Tonight is a good one.”

Evan smiled back. “I hope so.”

Everything seemed to be well and truly set up for the party. It looked nice inside of The Little Book Nook, Evan decided. There were paper lanterns hanging all around. Twinkling lights. He thought it would be good. 

Connor deserved for it to be good. 

Larry Murphy was chatting with the bartender who was getting their tip jar all set up, but he waved Evan over. 

He didn’t know exactly where he stood with Connor’s father these days, but he owed him a lot. A lot a lot. Were it not for Larry, Evan would have never been able to go away and focus on getting well for months. He had offered to pay for it upfront while they waited for the settlement from hospital suit to come through. Evan would also still be dealing with a breach of contract suit from Richard McLaren after Evan quit with zero notice at the beginning of March, barely six months into a three year contract. 

Evan was really fucking grateful. 

“Hi,” Evan said. Larry shook his hand. 

“This young man behind the bar just told me he’s thinking about taking the LSAT in the fall,” Larry said. 

Evan looked at the bartender, who looked embarrassed. 

“Don’t do it,” Evan said. “Don’t be a lawyer.”

“Quickest way to ruin your life,” Larry added. 

“So not worth it,” Evan went on, smiling a little. 

The bartender looked a bit… terrified. “I don’t… I mean, I’ve done a lot of research.”

Evan grinned at him, laughing slightly. “If it wasn’t obvious… we’re both lawyers.”

The bartender then, relaxing. “Oh… okay.” He nervously looked at Evan. “Is it… is it that bad?”

“Honestly? Sometimes yeah.”

“Oh.”

Connor had returned downstairs while Evan and Larry chatted with the prospective law student. Larry kept chiming in to try to tip the scales in favor of business school. Evan lost the train of the conversation then because he just… watched Connor cross the shop floor to go and talk to Leslie. He was smiling. He looked… relaxed and happy and he was wearing that shirt with the pineapples on it and… Evan was trying not to read anything into the pineapple shirt. It was just a shirt. It was not some kind of subconscious sign that Connor wanted Evan back. That was ridiculous. 

But Connor had told Leslie that he loved Evan this morning. And Evan loved Connor so. It was hard not to be distracted whenever he walked into the room. Connor was so beautiful and… so amazing and the fact that he apparently loved Evan still was almost unbelievable. It was hard not to be distracted. 

“...Environmental law, eh?”

“Sorry?” Evan said, tuning back into the conversation. 

“The kid wants to know about environmental law,” Larry said with a grin that reminded Evan very much so of the big shit-eating grins Connor would get whenever he teased Evan about things. 

“Oh. Yeah, sorry, there’s no money in that,” Evan said to the bartender, smiling a bit. 

“Business school,” Larry said. “I’m telling you, if you get an MBA you are so much better off.”


	170. ONE HUNDRED AND SIXTY-NINE

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> “Bold of you to assume I have ever once in my life relaxed when instructed."

Connor does another round of the store to make sure everything’s as it should be to find absolutely nothing out of place. There’s absolutely nothing for him to do except maybe try out one of the absolutely delicious looking spinach puff appetizer things, which he does. 

They are indeed absolutely delicious. 

People start showing up not long after and the place starts to fill up. Connor finds himself on host duty, greeting people warmly and directing them to the bar. The wait staff get stuck into their duties and Connor makes the rounds, getting into several conversations with friends, suppliers and valued customers. 

He spots his mom and Heidi, talking with Caroline, Connor’s foreign language supplier, and heads over. His mom gives him a big hug, and so does Heidi, and Caroline shakes his hand and then continues a conversation about a recent trip to Argentina, which Connor quickly realizes is just an excuse to flirt with Connor’s mom. 

Heidi, it seems, has had the same realization, and winks at Connor as Caroline says something about tango lessons and how she’s sure that Cynthia is very flexible. 

It is the weirdest fucking thing, Connor thinks. 

“Can I get anyone a drink?” 

Connor turns to see his dad approaching and notices with interest that his mom immediately looks happy to see him. His dad is looking at Caroline with a look that’s just this side of a glare, so he clearly totally noticed the flirting, which is just so fucking weird and funny that Connor has to stifle a laugh. 

“I’ll come with you to the bar,” says Connor’s mom to his dad, smiling. “Heidi, do you want anything?”

Heidi puts in a wine order and Connor’s parents head off to the bar, Larry’s arm going around Cynthia’s waist almost automatically. Caroline looks a little embarrassed and heads off to talk to Marco, leaving Connor and Heidi alone for a moment. 

“Congratulations, sweetheart,” says Heidi with a wide smile, and she pulls Connor into a tight hug. “Thank you so much for inviting me to be part of this, it’s a real honor.”

“Thank you for coming,” Connor replies with a smile. “I’m really glad you’re here. I know Evan is, too.”

“Where  _ is _ Evan?” Heidi asks, frowning a little. “I saw him when I first arrived but I haven’t seen him since.”

Connor scans the room and sees Evan handing out snacks and napkins. 

He sighs. 

“I see him,” Connor says with a roll of his eyes. “He seems to have forgotten that we hired wait staff. Even though it was his idea. Give me a second, I’ll go talk some sense into him.”

“Good luck,” Heidi says with a smile. “I’ve been trying for thirty years now.”

Connor laughs, then heads over to where Evan’s loading up more food at the table to walk around. “So remember how you insisted we hire staff to hand out food?” he says to Evan as he approaches. “How it was your idea so we could actually enjoy the party?”

“I meant you and the bookstore kids,” Evan replies, like it’s no big deal. “I’m happy to help.”

Connor takes the plate away from Evan and holds it above his head when he tries to take it back. “Nope,” he says when Evan tries again. “You need to go enjoy the party.”

“Okay, so it’s not fair to… weaponize your tallness,” Evan says with this adorable pout that Connor really, really wants to kiss. “I can just get another plate of food.”

Connor sighs. Puts the plate on the table, then puts his hands on Evan’s shoulder. “Evan,” he says seriously. “You get to enjoy the party as well, okay? You… you deserve to relax and enjoy yourself. Just relax.”

Evan looks at him, his cheeks coloring a little. Then he rolls his eyes. “Bold of you to assume I have ever once in my life relaxed when instructed,” he says with this grin that makes Connor want to kiss him even more. 

It also makes him want to make some comment about how sometimes Evan’s very, very good at following instructions, but that’s just… 

That’s completely off the table, he’s not about to make some weird comment about their former sex life when they’re just friends, just friends, just friends. 

“I just want you to have a good time,” Connor says gently. “I know that there are a lot of people and I know that there’s…” He sighs, trying to figure out how to say this. “I know that there are some people who are still being assholes about what went down last year, I know that, but that doesn’t matter. What matters is that my best friend is here with me while I celebrate something big. Something I…”

He trails off and looks at Evan. Evan’s eyes are big and questioning and Connor’s almost overwhelmed by it all. 

By the fact that he and Evan can still talk, can still hang out, can still be in each other’s lives after everything. 

By the fact that he’s owned his own business for two years, despite everything that happened. 

By the fact that he’s fucking alive to see this at all. 

“Connor,” Evan says softly. 

Connor smiles at him. “Let’s go get a drink, yeah? I know they have non-alcoholic options. I saw your spreadsheet.”

He loops an arm over Evan’s shoulder and leads him to the bar, where Evan orders a soda and Connor orders whisky, making sure to specify the 25-year-old Chivas. 

“The return of the pretentious asshole whisky,” says Evan with a soft smile. 

Connor grins. “Well, I’m only having the one drink tonight, so I want to make sure it’s a good one.”

Evan’s face colors a little. “Just because I’m not drinking doesn’t mean you can’t.”

Connor shrugs. “I mean, we bought a lot of alcohol and I don’t want you to be the only sober person here by ten-thirty,” he jokes. 

Evan looks at him, expression fond. “It’s your party, you can get drunk if you want to.”

Connor shakes his head. Looks around the room at the bookstore he loves, surrounded by the people he loves, with the person he loves the most standing beside him, even if it’s not the way he wishes it were. 

He almost lost this. 

He’s so fucking lucky. 

“No,” he says after a moment, just taking it all in. “I don’t want to miss any of this.”

* * *

Evan gripped his soda a bit tightly in his hand. Connor had drifted over to talk to Zoe, and Evan hung back. He and Zoe weren’t… 

They weren’t quite okay. 

The people who were assholes about last year? 

Zoe was sort of one of them. Not that she was an asshole. Evan did not blame her for not wanting to be around him. For not wanting him to be around Connor. Evan understood. There had been a few tense and somewhat uncomfortable conversations between Evan and Zoe since Evan got home, and ultimately it seemed best if Evan gave her some space. 

So he… tried not to intrude. Not to get in her way. 

So when Connor drifted over to speak with Zoe, Evan hung back a little. Drank his soda. Tried not to worry about all of the eyes he felt fixating on him. 

Evan sucked in a deep breath. 

People weren’t  _ really  _ looking at him, he told himself. A few might glance his way every once in a while, but. Nobody was staring. And if they were staring from time to time, it made sense. Most people didn’t invite the ex who left them a month after a coma to a party. 

Connor was not most people. 

He was better. 

A lot better. 

Evan took a sip of his soda. 

Mariah broke off from Zoe and Connor and headed over to Evan. He smiled at her gratefully. “Hanging in there?” She asked him. 

Evan nodded. “Yeah.”

“How’s nonprofit life?” Mariah asked him, smiling. He hadn’t seen too much of Mariah since he had gotten home. She was so busy all the time, he had no idea how she had time to see Zoe let alone other people. 

“Good,” Evan said, nodding. “It’s good. I really like it? My job is… different. But good.”

Mariah smiled. “You’re really only working forty hours a week?”

Evan nodded, feeling sheepish. “Uh. Yes. I am.”

“What do you do with yourself all the time?” Mariah asked, and she was grinning. Teasing. Evan was a categorical workaholic. 

Evan grinned back. “Thinking about taking up knitting.”

Mariah laughed, her eyes sparkling. “Not to pressure you or whatever, because I know you’re still getting back on your feet, but… You ever think about taking on consulting work?”

Evan blinked in surprise. This was the second time he had been asked that this summer. He genuinely wasn’t sure he was as good as people thought he was. “Are you asking…?”

“I just have a really fucking complicated case,” Mariah said. “And you and I make a good team. I could… buy you dinner? Pick your brain?”

Evan smiled. “Sure. I’d… I’d like that. A lot. If you want to just… send over your case files?”

“Totally,” Mariah said with a smile. Zoe was looking over at them, Evan noticed, her lips pursed. “Duty calls,” Mariah said, having apparently caught Zoe’s eye. “I’ll call you, yeah? Next week?”

Evan smiled at her. Nodded. Evan felt a bit… exposed standing there. No alcohol, no cardigan, no Connor… No armor. He spotted his mom, taking a sip of wine, and she was watching Larry and Cynthia Murphy with an odd look on her face. Evan headed over to her, and her face broke out into a smile. “Hi baby,” His mom said, pulling him into a tight hug. Evan gave up on protesting her calling him baby over the last few months. He let her have that one. She had been so steadfast, so supportive… He let her have that one.

“Hi,” Evan said to her. “Having fun?”

She smiled. “Yes,” his mom said. “It’s lovely. How about you?”

Evan tried to smile. “I uh… Yeah. It’s nice.” He took a sip of his drink. “I just sort of feel like people are looking at me?”

His mom smiled at him, understanding and warm. “So let them look. Connor wants you here, and that’s what’s important right?”

“Right,” Evan said with a small smile. “What’s going on with Larry and Cynthia?”

His mom shook her head. “I don’t know.” She sighed. “I feel a bit like a third wheel. Clearly he was a bit peeved that Caroline was flirting with Cynthia. He still loves her so much, you know? It’s… it’s kind of sad that they can’t seem to find a way to make it work between them.”

“Yeah,” Evan said softly. “It is sad.”

The singer with the blue hair began her set, and Evan and his mom headed toward the front of the crowd. His mom was really delighted by the songs she was singing. She really liked the song about bikini waxes. 

It was okay, Evan thought. So he was a bit uncomfortable. 

Evan was always uncomfortable. 

It was okay. 

His mom was here and the girl with blue hair was singing a song about genitals and people might be looking but Connor wanted him here so it was all okay. 

Until the singer with the blue hair looked directly at him and asked for help with her next song. She was brandishing a frying pan and a spoon.

Evan looked frantically at his mother, shaking his head, saying, softly, “Oh, I… I couldn’t, I don’t-”

His mom jumped in, volunteering to take the pan and spoon, and Evan backed away. 

The singer with the blue hair’s blond partner shot a look at their partner, but they tugged gently at Evan’s sleeve and nodded their head toward the back of the crowd. They patted him on the shoulder and said, “Sorry about that.” They headed back toward their partner, singing along, “You fucked up you fucked up!”

Which. 

Rude. 

Awfully close to home.

Evan spotted Connor standing with his dad and Zoe and he… Might hide a little bit better if he stayed hidden in the crowd. “No one told me anything about audience participation,” Evan said. Connor turned around and greeted him with this huge, sunny smile. It made Evan feel like he was going to burn up from the inside. He smiled sheepishly at Connor. “That was way too close for comfort.”

Connor gave him a smile. 

Evan had to hold himself back because it nearly burst out of him, at that moment. Nearly popped the ballooning happiness inside of him and wrecked this whole evening, because he nearly, very nearly, just told Connor how much he loved him. 

* * *

Maureen’s drunk and Jax isn’t far off. They’re making out near the children’s section.

Connor is absolutely going to give them hell for this later on. 

Leslie’s talking to Marco, the bookstore’s main supplier, with her girlfriend Camille. Camille is wearing these bright red high heels and is taller than ever, possibly even taller than Connor, and Leslie’s just looking at her like she’s some kind of Amazonian warrior princess. 

Which is, entertainingly, exactly how Zoe likes to describe Leslie’s girlfriend. 

Mariah seems to agree. “Amazonian is absolutely the word,” she says, finishing her whisky with a smile. She winks at Zoe. “Should I start working out?”

“Sure,” Zoe says with a roll of her eyes. “Take a pottery class while you’re at it with all that fucking spare time you have.”

Mariah lets out a sigh. “Ugh, I know, I never get to see you, it sucks.” She looks thoughtful. “Maybe I should go non-profit like Evan. Did you know he works forty hours a week now? Forty hours?”

“You mean a normal person’s work week?” Connor says mildly, trying not to be too hurt at the look on Zoe’s face any time Evan’s mentioned. 

Zoe and Evan aren’t quite there yet. 

Aren’t quite okay yet. 

Zoe knows how sick Evan was, knows how bad things were, knows about his diagnosis, and has told Connor that the therapist part of her wants to be understanding, knows it makes sense, understands the effects of trauma on the brain. 

But the part of her that almost lost her brother is still fucking pissed. 

Connor supposes he can understand that, it just kind of sucks that two of the most important people in his life are on eggshells around each other. 

“If you only work forty hours,” Mariah says, like she is passing on some great wisdom, “then what the fuck do you do with the rest of your week?”

“I’ve heard great things about sleeping,” Connor says with a grin. 

“Ah, yes, sleep,” Mariah says, nodding. “I heard about that, too. It gets great reviews.”

“Can I get anyone a refill?” says Connor and Zoe’s dad as he walks over with a smile. 

“You do know you’re not the waiter, right?” Connor asks with a grin. “You’ve offered to get drinks twice now.”

“Just trying to be helpful,” his dad says, looking a little embarrassed, and Connor’s reminded of Evan, once again. They’re both clearly a little uncomfortable. His heart goes out to them. 

Zoe looks at the small stage and Connor turns to see the singer with the blue hair getting ready to perform. He grins. He’d hired her especially for sweet but filthy musical comedy and he’s very much looking forward to his dad’s reaction. 

Barely a minute in, his dad almost chokes on his whisky when the blue-haired singer starts to croon sweetly about bikini waxing. 

“Oh my god,” says Mariah, looking delighted. “This is amazing.”

Zoe and Mariah take in her set with delight, while Larry looks more and more uncomfortable and confused as it continues. “Does she sing about anything other than genitals?” he asks Connor after a moment. 

Connor nods. “Oh yeah. Sometimes she sings about failure.”

Barely a minute later, the blue-haired singer is asking for an audience volunteer and genuinely tries to single out Evan, who is standing near the front with his mom. Connor looks to see Evan frantically shaking his head and backing away. Heidi clearly feels bad for him because she gets up the front and is quickly given a frying pan to hit with a spoon in some sort of strange attempt at percussion. 

“This is so fucking weird,” Zoe says as Heidi bangs the frying pan. She has good rhythm, Connor notes. “I love it so much, oh my god.”

“No one told me anything about audience participation,” says a slightly panicked voice from behind him. Connor turns to see Evan’s there, face red, clearly hiding. “That was way too close for comfort.”

“Your mom took one for the team,” says Connor with a grin. “And she seems to be enjoying herself?”

Evan laughs a little. “She does, actually. Meanwhile I would have, like, dissolved into a puddle of shame.”

“Fits with the song,” says Larry mildly as the blue-haired singer yells ‘You fucked up!’ into the microphone, over and over again. 

“Ugh,” Evan says, sounding a little dismayed. “This song is too real. Far too real. It’s like she’s broadcasting from the inside of my head.”

“What a mood,” says Mariah with a laugh. 

Zoe offers a cautious smile, and Connor grins back. 

They’re getting there. 


	171. ONE HUNDRED AND SEVENTY

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> “Don’t torture yourself waiting for the right moment. Just talk to him.

Zoe had smiled at Evan and it felt like… a win. 

A huge fucking win. 

Not long after nearly being dragged on stage, Alex and Mattie finally arrived at the party. They were late, though, judging by the way Alex’s hair was all matted and tangled in the back, it was not because they had been trapped at work. 

Evan greeted them enthusiastically. He missed them a lot. 

He had lived with them for almost four years. It was weird not to be their roommate anymore. Even though they hadn’t seen each other much when they were roommates. Even though he saw them more now, objectively. 

They were finally engaged. Mattie asked Alex a few weeks ago. She had called Evan’s mom for her blessing which was weird but felt like. Right. Alex and Mattie were absolutely ridiculously cute these days. 

Evan was going to be the best man at the wedding. Alex had asked. He felt a lot about that. 

It was the sort of thing he got all kinds of weepy about these days. Alex kept teasing him that he was becoming a sap, and Evan kept insisting he had always been one, really. He just used to be a lot better about hiding. 

It was true. After his stay at a residential treatment facility, Evan wasn’t really able to hide how he felt as much anymore. Oliver-his-therapist said that was probably a good sign. “So, some folks with BPD… it’s a bit like being an emotional burn victim. They feel everything more intensely.”

Evan had opened his mouth to protest because he wasn’t sure that was right. 

“And from where I’m standing, it seems like the way you dealt with it was to just… turn it off. Shut down the feelings and do a job. Whether it was your actual job, or a job taking care of Connor, or being a good son, what have you. Does that sound about right?”

Evan had nodded a bit dumbly. 

“Okay! So, all we’re looking for is a balance. A happy medium. So you can learn to manage your feelings without totally shutting them off. And, dude, it’ll probably feel super weird at first, fair warning. You might feel things way more, laugh way more, cry way more, and that’s okay. It’s part of that process.”

Oliver had been right. 

Evan just sort of wished that he had warned Evan that it meant he was going to be crying  _ all of the fucking time. _ He would have started to carry around Kleenex a lot sooner. 

“This is awesome,” Alex said, smiling. “I love that singer. You ever hear the one about drunkenly eating Chinese food by a river? Super good.” 

Mattie smiled, “Where’s the man of honor?”

“Talking to his family,” Evan said, pointing them out. 

Alex smiled. “I’m just gonna go say hi.”

Mattie smiled after her, then look at Evan significantly. “She’s going to show off her ring.”

“It’s a nice ring,” Evan said. “She should show it off.”

“Maybe I’ll go show myself off,” Mattie said with a wink at Evan. 

He smiled. 

Put his hands in his pockets. 

Wished he had something to do with his hands. Maybe Connor wouldn’t notice if he asked a few folks about drink refills…

Evan was supposed to be relaxing. 

Evan didn’t know how relaxing was supposed to go. He’d made a spreadsheet. Evan hadn’t really learned how to relax. 

Andre appeared at Evan’s elbow. “Hey,” he said with a big grin. 

“Hi,” Evan said, smiling back. 

“Connor said you had S.O.S. eyes,” Andre said to him, nudging Evan’s shoulder. “So he sent me to make sure you didn’t start handing out snacks again.”

“He did?” Evan asked, his voice painfully obvious, and his eyes sought Connor out among the crowd. He was smiling, laughing, talking to Martha and Gladys. 

“Yeah, he did,” Andre said. “You talk to him? About this morning?”

Evan shook his head. “No. Not yet. It’s his big party, I don’t… Today is about him. I just want him to have a good night. I want him to have a good time. This… tonight is not about me. It’s about him. I’ll talk to him… Just. Not tonight.”

Andre smiled at Evan, looking a little sad. “You heard him though, right? That he loves you?”

Evan took a hard swallow of his soda. “I heard him, yeah,” He said softly. He looked over at Connor again, his heart doing backflips as he saw Connor smiling. 

He loved him so much. 

He owed him so much. 

Connor was… everything. He was everything to Evan, and Evan thought he had lost his chance. He’d assumed there was no way Connor could possibly still have feelings for him after everything Evan had fucked up. Everything he had put Connor through. 

Evan thought back, not for the first time, about that night in February. The second time Connor had saved Evan’s life. 

He’d said he loved Evan then. He asked him to come down off of the roof, and he said he loved Evan… 

And Evan had thought, he’d assumed that Connor had only said it so he wouldn’t kill himself. And he respected that, he respected what he figured was a lie. 

And Evan hadn’t said it back. 

He was… 

Stupid.

Useless. 

Cruel. 

Unworthy. 

_ Stop it,  _ Evan told himself. 

No use going down that path. 

He shook his head, and tore his eyes away from Connor. He looked back at Andre. “How was softball earlier?”

Andre’s face split into this massive smile. “Oh man, I feel like Celeste could go pro. Here, I’ve got pictures!” Andre pulled his phone out, started swiping through pictures of Celeste in her little league uniform, a look of intense concentration on her face as she swung her bat. Another of her taking off running after the ball connected with her bat. A final one, of Celeste rounding third base, her hair flying behind her. 

“That’s awesome,” Evan said, smiling. 

“She hit a homerun,” Andre said proudly. 

Connor turned back and looked at Evan suddenly. He smiled before he looked away. 

Evan lost track of what he had been saying. He lost track of everything because Connor Murphy loved him. 

Connor loved  _ him _ . 

“Just talk to him,” Andre said, smiling. “Don’t torture yourself waiting for the right moment. Just talk to him.”

Evan nodded. “You’re right.” He smiled slightly. “Just… it’s a party. Not right now.”

Before long, Andre excused himself to get a drink. Evan felt something soft against his ankle, and he looked down to see Edgar Allan Paw winding himself between his legs. “Hey dude,” Evan said. He bent down and scooped Edgar up into his arms, and Edgar scampered up to perch on Evan’s shoulder. 

That honor used to be reserved only for Connor. Evan didn’t know when he’d gotten this promotion from the cat. 

Ensuring first that nobody was around to hear him say this, Evan glanced over at Edgar. “You know I love your dad, right?”

Edgar purred. 

“I’m gonna tell him, okay?” Evan promised the cat. “Think it’ll blow up in my face?”

Edgar yawned, then licked his paw. 

He never was the best conversationalist, Evan thought ruefully. 

“Well. Hopefully you’ll still have my back.”

“Mrow.”

“Thanks dude.”

Alex and Mattie had returned with Evan’s mother in tow. Her face was flushed from the wine and she looked elated to spot Edgar on Evan’s shoulder. “Hello beautiful boy,” She said, scratching Edgar under the chin. 

“She’s never greeted me like that,” Evan joked to Alex. 

Alex rolled her eyes. “It’s because the cat’s prettier than you.”

“Hey now,” Evan said. “Don’t inflate his ego.”

“Such a good boy, so beautiful and charming,” His mom said, and Edgar purred loudly in Evan’s ear. 

“Connor wanted to put in him a bowtie,” Evan said to her. “But Edgar kept pulling it off earlier.”

She laughed brightly. “He’s so dapper already, he doesn’t need a tie.”

“Well Connor doesn’t wear ties,” Alex said, “Maybe he just takes after his dad with his fashion choices.”

Evan remembered how uncomfortable Connor looked the day of the hearing with Evan’s tie around his neck. Evan remembered how Connor used to tease him about being Edgar’s other dad, and for a moment he was overwhelmed by how much he wanted that back.

Sometimes, it was scary to want things. 

Mattie was smiling really hard at Evan, so he raised his eyebrows at her in question. “This is a good night,” She said suddenly. “I just. I have a feeling this is going to be a really good night.”

* * *

Connor takes the microphone to address the crowd just before 9. It’s starting to get darker, and the lanterns are glowing gently, casting the whole room in a colorful light, and Connor loves it, loves it so fucking much.

“Hey everyone,” he says, and the room quiets down immediately. “I just wanted to thank everyone for coming to my two year anniversary of owning The Little Book Nook. It’s… it’s been an amazing two years, though not exactly easy, and I’m so proud to be standing here tonight and celebrating it with all of you.”

The room bursts into applause and loud cheers. Connor feels his cheeks color, and pushes a loose strand of hair out of his face. “There are some people I wanted to acknowledge tonight,” he says, looking out into the crowd. “First of all, Gladys and Martha. You taught me everything I know about running this place. The Little Book Nook is your legacy, this incredible place where people can come to get lost in a book and find themselves. It means the world to me that you’ve trusted me with your store - because no matter how long I own it, it’ll  _ always _ be your store - and I hope I’ve done you proud these past two years.”

Gladys looks near tears and she nods emphatically. Connor smiles at her, then continues. “Marco and Caroline,” he says, looking out for them in the crowd. “You made the transition so smooth by being so consistent as suppliers and you’ve been patient with me when I’ve made mistakes - which I have, because we all do. You’re an important part of The Little Book Nook family and we’re glad you’re here with us tonight.”

“To my parents, Larry and Cynthia, and my sister Zoe,” he says, trying to keep his voice steady. “Thank you for your support and your love and everything you did during my illness last year to help me recover and get back on my feet.” He eyeballs his sister in the crowd, who looks like she’s trying not to cry. “Zoe, I know I put you in a really fucking terrible situation and I’m so sorry but I want you to know that I don’t regret trusting you with my bookstore. I know you would have done right by it and by me, and I want to thank you for everything.”

Connor looks out into the crowd to make sure he can spot his employees as he continues. “Leslie, Jax and Maureen,” he says, and he feels his voice wavering a little as he speaks. “You are more than just employees. You have been unfailingly kind, generous and understanding, even when things have been rough. Without the three of you I would have never kept this place running after my illness last year. You have gone above and beyond, making sure The Little Book Nook kept going, even when things looked bleak for me.” He takes a steadying breath. “You three are my family and I love you so much. Thank you for everything.” 

He can see that Maureen’s crying and kind of wants to go hug her, but he has to finish his thank yous. 

“And Evan,” he says, pulling on all the strength he has to get through this. “I wouldn’t be standing here today without you, I wouldn’t be running this business without you. You have been so supportive from the very beginning, back when it was just a dream. You bent over backwards making sure I had everything I needed, spent hours and hours and hours of your time helping me with the legal side of things without charging me a cent. You made the whole process so much easier, you worked so incredibly hard… this is as much your celebration tonight as it is mine.”

Evan’s shaking his head in the crowd, his eyes red, and Connor hates that he’s made him cry but knows he’s just going to have to let him… feel it. 

They both just need to feel things. 

“You know this place almost as well as I do,” Connor continues. “So much so that you helped keep it running when I was in a coma. That you took care of my employees and made sure they had what they needed. You worked so hard helping me plan this party tonight. And you did all of this despite… despite having to deal with more pain than anyone should have to bear, despite going through hell. You’ve supported me and helped me and I couldn’t have done this without you- no, don’t shake your head at me, Evan, I’m fucking serious.”

There’s a chuckle from the crowd. 

Connor swallows. 

“You are…”

_ The love of my life.  _

_ Everything to me.  _

_ The only person I will ever love, no matter how long I live, no matter what happens, even though you don’t love me back.  _

“The best friend I’ve ever had,” Connor manages to choke out. “Thank you. Thank you so much.”

There’s applause from the crowd. Connor blinks and wipes his face, suddenly very self-conscious.

“Before I let you all get back to drinking,” he says, “I actually have an announcement to make.”

He looks around the room to see people looking expectant and his dad smiling broadly. Evan looks surprised, because he has no idea about this, no idea of what’s coming. 

Connor hopes it’s a good surprise. 

“As you are probably aware, there’s a hardware store next door,” Connor says, gesturing vaguely to his left. “Markowitz Hardware has been next door to The Little Book Nook since... the early 90s, I think?” He looks at Gladys, who nods. “Yeah. So we’ve been neighbors for a while. However, that’s coming to an end this summer, as Mr. Markowitz will be hanging up his hammer at the end of the month and closing up shop.”

Connor looks around the crowd and his eyes go straight to Evan. Evan’s eyes have widened and he’s grinning and Connor just knows that he’s figured it out, moments before Connor’s even said anything, because Evan’s a fucking genius and he knows, he always knows. 

“As we all know, new neighbors can be a bit hit and miss,” Connor says, knowing he’s grinning like an idiot but not caring. “So with that in mind, I decided that to be on the safe side, I’d just buy the building.”

There’s an excited murmuring in the crowd. Jax, Maureen and Leslie all look stunned, Zoe’s grinning and his mom looks completely shocked but delighted. 

“It’s not just our two year anniversary here at The Little Book Nook,” Connor says, trying to keep his voice even, because he’s starting to feel more than a little bit emotional. “It’s the start of a new chapter. I can’t tell you for sure what the plans are for the building next door, because I’m still figuring that out, but I can tell you that my top priority is making this building and next door spaces where people are safe. Where they are looked after. Where they are free to be who they are. Where people know that if they fall, someone will come running. I don’t know exactly what’s going to happen, but I promise that we’re going to keep serving hot meals for those in need. We’re going to keep looking after people who need it. We’re going to keep doing the small things that we can do, because they add up in the long run. They’re the things that change the world.”

He raises up his glass, still half-full of whisky. 

Half-full, because he’s a fucking optimist these days. 

“To the future,” he says, and the crowd repeats his words, and he hears the sounds of clinking glasses, then the sound of applause, and Connor moves away from the makeshift stage, handing the microphone to Otis. 

Otis pulls him into a huge hug and doesn’t let him go for a long, long time. 

Then he grins and takes a seat on the stage and starts playing his guitar. The music rings out across the room and Connor thinks to himself that this song’s one he hasn’t heard before. 

It sounds like hope. 


	172. ONE HUNDRED AND SEVENTY-ONE

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> "We’re going to keep doing the small things that we can do, because they add up in the long run. They’re the things that change the world.”

Edgar climbed down from Evan’s shoulder after a little while, deciding he wanted to be fawned over by some other adoring fans. Evan immediately missed him, even as he was pulling a truly impressive amount of cat hair off of his shirt. 

“Oh, is Connor giving a speech?” His mom asked Evan then, and Evan shrugged. His spreadsheet had left space for Connor to say a few words if he wanted, but he’d left it as optional. It was Connor’s party. He made that call. 

“Hey everyone,” Connor said and all of the chatter in the room came to a halt. “I just wanted to thank everyone for coming to my two year anniversary of owning The Little Book Nook. It’s… it’s been an amazing two years, though not exactly easy, and I’m so proud to be standing here tonight and celebrating it with all of you.”

Everyone clapped. Somewhere in the back someone was loudly whooping and Evan watched as Connor’s cheeks turned the most delicious pink color. It made Evan really want to kiss him… Especially once he tucked a piece of hair behind his ear to keep it out of his face. Evan wanted to kiss his hand. His ear. 

Evan needed to focus. To listen and be present. Connor was talking and Evan wanted to hear what he had to say. He wanted to actually be there for this. 

“There are some people I wanted to acknowledge tonight,” Connor said, and he was smiling. “First of all, Gladys and Martha. You taught me everything I know about running this place. The Little Book Nook is your legacy, this incredible place where people can come to get lost in a book and find themselves. It means the world to me that you’ve trusted me with your store - because no matter how long I own it, it’ll  _ always _ be your store - and I hope I’ve done you proud these past two years.”

Evan could see Gladys smiling and nodding at him. Connor gave her this smile that made Evan’s heart so warm. He loved how much Connor loved Martha and Gladys. He loved how hard he had worked to uphold the legacy they had built. He loved how important it always had been to Connor to keep the bookstore as a safe space, a community space. 

Connor moved on to thank his suppliers, talking in this clear and even voice, smiling so big and it just. Made Evan so happy to seem him so happy. 

“To my parents, Larry and Cynthia, and my sister Zoe,” Connor went on. He paused, clearing his throat slightly. His voice had wobbled, almost imperceptibly, but Evan noticed and his heart twinged. He knew how much work it took Connor and his family to get to this place, and Evan was so damn proud of Connor because he had never been afraid to do that work since the loops ended. Even with all of the things that went down with Larry, Connor had fought to have a relationship with his family. And it made Evan so happy that they were all here for him tonight. 

“Thank you for your support and your love and everything you did during my illness last year to help me recover and get back on my feet.” Connor gave his sister a significant look, “Zoe, I know I put you in a really fucking terrible situation and I’m so sorry but I want you to know that I don’t regret trusting you with my bookstore. I know you would have done right by it and by me, and I want to thank you for everything.”

Everything was quiet for a moment. 

There were some sniffles around Evan. 

But he was totally zeroed in on Connor. 

“Leslie, Jax and Maureen,” he says, and his voice was definitely a little less steady now. “You are more than just employees. You have been unfailingly kind, generous and understanding, even when things have been rough. Without the three of you I would have never kept this place running after my illness last year. You have gone above and beyond, making sure The Little Book Nook kept going, even when things looked bleak for me.”

Evan flinched. 

It wasn’t a slight or a pointed thing to say, something meant to hurt Evan, it was just… a fact. The bookstore kids had been there when Evan wasn’t. And Evan was so glad that Connor had them. 

Connor took a deep breath from the stage. “You three are my family and I love you so much. Thank you for everything.” 

“And Evan,” Connor said. 

Evan felt his heart leap into his throat. 

That wasn’t… 

Connor shouldn’t say anything about him. 

He could feel all of the eyes turning to look at Evan. Evan swallowed hard, but he kept his eyes focused on Connor. He looked right back, even as he sort of wanted to disappear, even as he wished he was invisible. Because Connor had something to say so Evan would look back and listen. 

“I wouldn’t be standing here today without you, I wouldn’t be running this business without you. You have been so supportive from the very beginning, back when it was just a dream. You bent over backwards making sure I had everything I needed, spent hours and hours and hours of your time helping me with the legal side of things without charging me a cent. You made the whole process so much easier, you worked so incredibly hard…” Connor said. 

Evan felt his eyes flood. 

That wasn’t… that wasn’t right. 

All Evan had done was pull together a few contracts. He hadn’t done any of the important or hard work. It was all Connor. All him. 

“This is as much your celebration tonight as it is mine.”

Evan was just… fuck he was just crying. 

No. 

This celebration wasn’t for him. 

Connor had been through so much, he had worked so damn hard, and Evan didn’t want the credit. He didn’t deserve that. He didn’t deserve it. 

Evan shook his head, because it was wrong, Connor had it wrong, it was all him. All of it had been Connor’s hard work. Evan had only helped where he could. And he had hurt more than he helped. 

“You know this place almost as well as I do,” Connor continued. “So much so that you helped keep it running when I was in a coma. That you took care of my employees and made sure they had what they needed. You worked so hard helping me plan this party tonight. And you did all of this despite… despite having to deal with more pain than anyone should have to bear, despite going through hell. You’ve supported me and helped me and I couldn’t have done this without you-” 

Evan shook his head harder. 

“No, don’t shake your head at me, Evan, I’m fucking serious.”

People around them tittered with laughter. 

Evan tried to wipe his eyes, but the tears were just flowing, he was overwhelmed, he was completely overwhelmed with love and affection and gratitude for Connor, who was stubbornly selfless and so damn beautiful, who cared so fucking much, and Evan couldn’t make himself stop crying if he wanted. 

Even though people were looking. 

Even though it was objectively kind of embarrassing. 

He just kept his eyes on Connor, watching him, trying to smile at him despite the tears. 

Connor continued, “You are… The best friend I’ve ever had,” Connor said finally. “Thank you. Thank you so much.”

Evan felt something inside of him break a little at the words “best friend.” 

Of course Connor was Evan’s best friend, and vice versa but… 

It hurt a bit. It stung. To announce that to this crowd of people. To claim that space for Evan with no hesitation. 

Evan swallowed hard. Tried not to let on that his reasons for crying had gotten complicated and strange, because he was overwhelmed with love for Connor but also with confusion and disappointment, with uncertainty because… 

Because he had fucked it all up last year. 

Evan had fucked everything up and he was so grateful now for where he was but he missed… He missed the possibility of a future together. 

And he hated not knowing where they stood. 

He hated the fact that Connor… didn’t know. Didn’t think Evan loved him the way Connor loved Evan. He hated that he hadn’t just burst into the storeroom earlier and told him. Evan hated every moment of every day when he had passed on the chance to tell Connor how he felt. 

Evan swallowed hard. 

No matter what… Connor was the most important person to him. He couldn’t deny that. And Evan hated that he had thought he needed to hurt Connor to protect him. He hated the mistakes he had made, and he wished so badly he could take it all back. 

But Evan knew that wasn’t how things worked. 

All they could do was continue forward. 

And if that meant being best friends, then Evan would happy take on that role because Connor… Connor was too good, too important, too amazing to let go of. Evan knew he would never ever make that mistake again. He’d do whatever he had to to make sure he never had to let go of Connor ever again. 

The crowd erupted in applause as Connor finished his thank yous. 

“Before I let you all get back to drinking, I actually have an announcement to make.”

Announcement? 

Evan didn’t know anything about an announcement. It was  _ not _ on the spreadsheet, that was for damn sure. He wiped his face, looking around, like maybe this was something everyone else already knew. Other than a big smile breaking out on Larry’s face, everyone was looking expectantly at Connor on the stage. 

“As you are probably aware, there’s a hardware store next door. Markowitz Hardware has been next door to The Little Book Nook since... the early 90s, I think?” 

Evan caught Gladys nodding. 

“Yeah. So we’ve been neighbors for a while. However, that’s coming to an end this summer, as Mr. Markowitz will be hanging up his hammer at the end of the month and closing up shop.”

Evan felt his eyes widening. 

Holy shit. 

Holy fucking shit. 

He knew his face had burst into a stupidly big smile because that meant… Connor was expanding. He was fucking expanding. He remembered the first time they had talked about it, on Valentine’s Day, the only Valentine’s Day they had ever spent together as a couple. Connor talking about the possibility of maybe opening a cafe. Evan had joked that he could monetize his French Toast skills. 

Connor kept explaining, smiling broadly, “As we all know, new neighbors can be a bit hit and miss. So with that in mind, I decided that to be on the safe side, I’d just buy the building.”

Connor had done it. 

Evan was so fucking proud of him. He couldn’t believe he had actually done it. 

He was just… overwhelmed with pride in Connor. He was so damn proud of him, so excited for him he wanted to like… scream at the top of his lungs, let out some kind of inhuman noise and jump up and down, he wanted to kiss Connor right there in front of everybody, he didn’t know what to do with himself, he was a balloon full to the brim with happiness and pride and it was going to burst any second, Evan was sure of that. 

Connor had… been through fucking hell and all he wanted was to keep making the world better, little by little. And Evan was so fucking in love with him. In love with that about him. 

“It’s not just our two year anniversary here at The Little Book Nook, it’s the start of a new chapter.” Connor’s voice was thick with emotion and Evan wished he could hold Connor’s hand so much. “I can’t tell you for sure what the plans are for the building next door, because I’m still figuring that out, but I can tell you that my top priority is making this building and next door spaces where people are safe. Where they are looked after. Where they are free to be who they are. Where people know that if they fall, someone will come running. I don’t know exactly what’s going to happen, but I promise that we’re going to keep serving hot meals for those in need. We’re going to keep looking after people who need it. We’re going to keep doing the small things that we can do, because they add up in the long run. They’re the things that change the world.”

Connor raised the glass of whisky he had been nursing all night. “To the future,” he said,

Evan raised his own glass, full of Sprite, and murmured, “To the future.” 

His mom clinked her glass against Evan’s and he laughed, this strange wet post-cry laugh, and she wrapped her arms around Evan and he hugged her while the room erupted in even more applause. On stage, Connor and Otis hugged, and then Otis was taking center stage. 

And Connor was cutting through the crowd, up the back steps of his apartment. Evan watched him go. Otis was on stage murmuring into the mic something about how he was going to play a cover. The music was sort of hypnotic and beautiful. Evan didn’t know the song but it felt familiar somehow. 

His mom nudged Evan. “What are you still doing down here?” She said. “Go talk to him.”

Evan nodded. Stopped and hugged her once more. “I love you.”

“I love you too baby,” She said, kissing his cheek. “Go.”

_ “It’s not the way you talk me off the roof. Your questions like directions to the truth…”  _

Evan followed Connor.

* * *

He just needs a moment, Connor says to himself as he climbs up the stairs to his apartment. Just a moment to collect himself. He can still kind of hear Otis’s set, as the door to his apartment is open, and he stands in the kitchen for a moment and takes in a deep breath. 

Looks around his apartment and lets out the breath, slowly and shakily. 

Rubs his face again, trying to resist the urge to just… burst into tears. 

Happy tears, he thinks, when it comes down to it. 

Maybe a little bittersweet. 

He loves this bookstore. He loves the life he’s built here. He loves his friends and his cat and his family, biological and otherwise, and he has a good life. 

A life he’ll never take for granted, ever again. 

A life he fought to get back to, a life he fought for with everything he has and would fight for again in a heartbeat. 

He just…

Fuck, he just wishes Evan…

_ Stop it,  _ he tells himself firmly, rubbing his face again, because this isn’t the time, it’s not the time to fall apart again. 

Insert cliche about loving and losing here. 

And at the end of the day, he hasn’t lost Evan. Not really. Evan’s still here, still part of his life, still his best friend. 

The best friend he’ll ever have. 

It’s going to have to be enough. 

It  _ can _ be enough, he just needs to… work harder at accepting that. 

There’s a soft knock on the doorframe. Connor turns to see Evan standing there. His eyes are red but he’s smiling and he looks happy to see him. 

“Saw you disappear up here,” Evan says softly. “I just wanted to check… to see if you’re okay.”

“I’m great,” Connor says, wiping his face again and offering Evan a watery smile. “I’m just, uh, having more emotions than I thought I was going to about the store’s anniversary.” He blinks. “It’s been… a hell of a two years.”

Something in Evan’s expression shifts. For a moment, he looks horribly sad. “I get that, yeah.”

“More good than bad,” Connor says immediately, trying for a smile again. “The good outweighs the bad, like, so much.” He laughs. Knows it sounds feeble. “Sorry. I…” He clears his throat. “I was actually meaning to talk to you, anyway.”

Evan’s eyes widen. “Oh?” he asks, sounding surprised. “Everything okay?”

“Everything’s great,” Connor assures him. “I just…” He offers Evan this smile. “So I had this crazy thought about opening a cafe and I figured I could use a lawyer. Know anyone?”

Evan blinks, then his whole face breaks into that sunny smile Connor knows and loves and his heart aches at the sight in the best possible way. “I’m in,” he says immediately. “This is so cool, Connor, it’s going to be so amazing.”

Connor grins. “Yeah, well, after you and my dad sued the hospital, I have a fair chunk of spare change.”

“It was all Larry-”

“That’s bullshit and you know it,” Connor interrupts with a roll of his eyes. “You helped.” He clears his throat. Laughs a little. “You always do that, you always just… help, and then say you never did anything when you do so much, and… I wish you weren’t so hard on yourself sometimes.”

Evan blinks and looks at him and Connor’s suddenly hit with the feeling that he’s said the wrong thing. He’s about to apologize when Evan speaks. 

“I overheard you and Leslie talking in the storeroom this morning.”

Connor feels something inside him twist uncomfortably. “Oh.” He can feel his face flush, feel his heart flutter, feel something weird inside him. “What… what did you hear?” he asks, his voice cautious.

Evan steadies himself. “You said that you loved me,” he says gently. “But that I didn’t feel the same way. And I should have just said something then, I should have… I should have said something so much sooner and I’m sorry.” Evan looks at him, right at him, his gaze steady. “You’re wrong. About me.”


	173. ONE HUNDRED AND SEVENTY-TWO

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> "I needed you to know. That I love you. I’ve always loved you. And I…I never stopped loving you."

Connor looked confused. “I don’t... “

“I love you.” Evan said. 

Fuck. 

He’d meant to maybe say something more, explain better, build up to actually saying the words, but it just… He just said it. It rushed out of him because he has held it back too long. 

Connor’s eyes were wide, his mouth slightly open. 

“I am so in love with you,” Evan went on, trying to… make sense of his thoughts, trying to explain, to say words that made sense. “I never stopped being in love with you. Never. And I am so sorry, so fucking sorry because I should have said something before now. But I.” He tugged on the hem of his shirt, feeling a bit too vulnerable. 

Evan cleared his throat. “You told me you loved me. In February. On the… on the roof?” He looked back up at Connor. “I assumed you just said it to get me down? And I wasn’t even, like, angry, because I understood that, like, it made sense to me that you’d do that so I… And then there was Nate, and you didn’t talk to me about Nate, you didn’t tell me about him and you didn’t  _ have  _ to and then there was that night you got drunk after the settlement and where you… told me to stop acting like I was your boyfriend. And then last month on the anniversary you kinda rejected me... so I thought. I- I guess I… I assumed you didn’t want me anymore. I assumed that… we were like officially, officially over, like that door had closed forever, that you had moved on and that you didn’t love me anymore I… I didn’t want to burden you with my feelings. But... I assumed and I shouldn’t have and I’m sorry.”

Connor looked a bit. Shell shocked. “Well. You know what they say when you assume,” He said, his tone not quite managing to be joking. 

“Connor I’m serious,” Evan said, feeling a little bit desperate, a little like he was an exposed nerve, like he was a wound bleeding freely. “I  _ love  _ you. I am in love with you, I’ve been in love with you… probably since you saved my life. The first time, that is. You’re always saving me it seems.”

“Don’t… I’m not,” Connor said softly.

“You are. You really are.” Evan wiped his face, annoyed to see that his wet eyelashes had left smudges on his glasses. He cleared his throat, “Connor, I… Fuck. I am so fucking sorry I didn’t say anything before now. I should have said something so much sooner but I got scared. I freaked out and got in my head. After February, I just got really scared that I would lose you forever and… And then everything with Nate happened and I didn’t want to wreck that for you or-or make it worse. I just wanted you to be happy and if-if moving on and finding someone else was going to do it, I… And I… Because I know I screwed everything up. I know I ruined everything between us, that I left and-and _ I _ broke us. I broke everything between us and there is nothing I can do to take that back. And I don’t expect you to ever forgive me for what I did. I was not the person you deserved and I am so unbelievably sorry for what I did to us. To our relationship. But I still love you.” 

“Evan, I…” 

“Please, let me finish?”

Connor nodded. 

“I love you. I just. I am _ in love _ with you. You’re… the love of my fucking life. I love you with… with everything I have. I… I don’t have any agenda. And I’m not saying this because I want anything from you, I’m just. I… I am so grateful that I get to know you and be your friend. I am so grateful that you even allow me to be in your life, Connor. You are the best person I know, okay? I think you are the kindest, most caring, and utterly wonderful person I have ever met. I just... I love you. I love you so much. And I’m sorry that I ever made you doubt that. But I love you.”

Evan blinked a few times, his insides twisting uncomfortably. “I feel like I’m fucking this up… Just. I love you. I really fucking love you. I have no expectations or… or anything really. I don’t expect you to take me back, and it’s… it’s okay if you don’t want that or want me anymore. It’s okay and I understand completely if that’s the case. I just. If you want to continue being friends or-or if you want me fuck off forever because I  _ ruined  _ this  _ again _ , that’s fine but. I needed you to know. That I love you. I’ve always loved you. I…I never stopped loving you. I was stupid and selfish when I left, but I didn’t stop loving you. And I’m so sorry I did that. But I’m not going to stop, okay? Even if you don’t want me. I’m not going to stop loving you. Not now or… or ever. I’m going to love you until I can’t anymore, okay? So. So…” Evan stopped. Bit his lip. “So now you know.”

Evan felt his hands shaking. He looked at Connor, nervous and scared and also extremely relieved. To have said something. To have stopped holding that back, holding that in.

“Okay,” Evan said quietly. “I… I said… stuff. I…” He cleared his throat awkwardly. “You say something now. Please?”

* * *

Connor has always been someone who reacts. 

Who jumps into things, who does things without thinking, who doesn’t sit back and calculate and try to figure out the potential consequences of his actions.

At least, he used to be. These days, he does try to think things through, which might be a side effect of dying so many times, of ending up stuck in the past in an alternate reality. 

Maybe it’s just a side effect of growing the fuck up. 

But there are moments where his tendency to react, to act by instinct, serves him well.

He doesn’t know if this is one of those moments, but he gives in to his instincts anyway.

Takes a step toward Evan, reaches out and takes his face in his hands. 

And kisses him with everything he’s got. 

Fuck. 

It’s been too long since he kissed Evan. 

Far, far too long. 

It’s been too long since he felt this, this overwhelming feeling, and he thinks his heart might burst, might stop beating, he might be being struck by lightning on a still summer’s night, it’s just… 

Evan’s lips are soft and warm and he tastes different to how Connor remembers, like Sprite instead of cigarette ash and whisky, but underneath all that is something so, so familiar, so comforting, but amazing and unbelievable and utterly, utterly overwhelming. 

Evan’s arms wrap around Connor, pulling him close, and their bodies press together and it fits it fits it still fits, they still fit, after all this time they still fit and Connor laughs against Evan’s lips for a moment, then kisses him again, and tastes salt. 

He pulls away just enough to see Evan’s face, beautiful and bewildered, and brushes away what he can of Evan’s tears with his thumb. 

Kisses him again, right where his thumb was. 

Softly. 

Gently. 

Like he’s something precious, because he is. 

He always has been. 

“Words are overrated,” Connor manages to choke out after a moment. 

Evan lets out this wet, happy laugh. “Connor, you own a bookstore.”

“Yeah,” says Connor with a smile. “Yeah, I do. It’s downstairs.”

“Along with, like, everyone you know,” Evan points out.

“I love you,” Connor says, because it needs to be said, it always needs to be fucking said. “You are the only person I’ve ever loved, Evan. The only person I will  _ ever _ love. I’m so sorry about Nate, I should never have… I thought you’d stopped loving me, I thought I had to move on and I tried but I  _ couldn’t. _ I just couldn’t. I don’t want anyone else, I don’t… I just want you, okay? Only you.” He looks at Evan, straight in the eye. “Can I? Can I have you back? Please?”

Evan grabs the collar of his shirt and pulls him in for a kiss, and Connor takes that as an answer.

* * *

Evan kissed Connor because he always wanted to be kissing Connor, because it had been far too long since the last time he had kissed Connor, because kissing Connor was like. Oxygen. Like the sun finally parting the clouds after weeks of rain. Like stepping inside somewhere warm after hours out in the cold. Like coming home after a long long time away and being welcomed back with open arms. 

It was the best best best thing. 

They pulled apart and Evan was smiling so hard and Connor was grinning even harder, and he was crying and so was Evan and Connor was so fucking beautiful. Evan wiped a few tears off of Connor’s face, kissing his cheeks, then his lips again softly. “You’re… you’re sure? You’re sure you want me back?” Evan asked, his voice tentative. “Because I know… I know there are other people, better people who want you and I’m -”

“Wonderful?” Connor interjected. “Amazing?”

“A mess,” Evan finished, a little sheepish. 

“And you’ve got that eavesdropping problem,” Connor teased. 

Evan felt his face heat up. “I really wasn’t trying to, I was just… just carrying boxes.” He smiled sheepishly. “It was an accident. Really.”

“I know,” Connor said. He kissed him again. “I love you. I just want you. Okay? I just want you. Nobody else. I’ve only wanted you for… a really long time.”

Evan smiled at him, because he couldn’t help it. He just smiled around Connor, all the time. “I love you so much.”

“I love you too.”

They kissed again, arms tight around each other, and it was the safest Evan had felt… probably in a year. More than. Since before Connor got sick. 

He had missed it so much he had forgotten what he felt like to have it. To have that feeling of safety, of security, of the sort of love that didn’t just fall away easily. 

He hated that he might not have had this again. 

That he had walked away from the possibility because of his own stupid insecurities. 

Fuck, he was so happy he didn’t know what to do with it all, it was just… So much. So real. Connor was here and he was real and he wanted Evan back and that was… 

Amazing. Wonderful. Unbelievable. Perfect. 

And Evan was crying again. 

“What? What’s going on?” Connor said pulling away, his fingers wiping away Evan’s tears as they fell. 

“I just… I really love you,” Evan said. He didn’t know how to explain. He sort of doubted that he could capture the intensity of what he was feeling right this moment. He just… sort of couldn’t believe that Connor wanted him. That Connor wanted him back, despite everything. That he had a chance, that he had a shot at loving Connor again and doing it properly this time. He was overwhelmed by emotion and love and so he cried. “I love you so much it’s… fucking coming out of my eyes. Fuck, sorry, sorry, I just… have a lot of feelings?”

Connor smiled at him. “I love you.”

Evan smiled. Took off his glasses and did his best to clean them on the hem of his shirt. “I love you too. And… I’m trying not to be all, uh, freaked out and insecure,” Evan said, his voice soft, maybe a little pleading. He put his glasses back on. “But you’re sure?”

“About you?”

Evan nodded. 

Connor smiled. “Always.”

* * *

Connor would really, really, really like to just… stay here. Stay in his apartment above the bookstore with Evan, stay here and keep him, keep him all to himself, because he’s still just overwhelmed that this is happening, overwhelmed that after everything, after everything Evan still loves him, Evan still wants him, that he’s willing to try again. 

He wants…

Fuck, he just wants to hold Evan until his arms go numb, cover him with kisses, curl up in bed with him and hold him and kiss him and never let him go. 

But he can hear the sounds of someone coming up the stairs and gets a glimpse of one of the wait staff they’d hired for the night. She looks a little sheepish, like she’s interrupted something, and gestures to Connor’s oven. 

“I just… there are more spinach puffs in here,” she says with an awkward smile. “We ran out downstairs, so…”

“Sure,” Connor says, and he grabs Evan’s waist and basically shuffles him across the room, out of the way of the oven, because he doesn’t want to let go of him, and Evan laughs, and kisses Connor again. 

Once the spinach puffs have been removed from the oven and taken downstairs, Connor kisses Evan one last time, then reluctantly lets him go. 

“My bookstore is full of people.”

“It is.”

“They’re here to celebrate or whatever.”

Evan nods. “They are. Because you kept a business running for two years.” He grins. “And you’re expanding.” 

Connor pats his stomach. “Too many spinach puffs.”

Evan lets out this surprised laugh. “The business is expanding, not you, you scarecrow.” 

“Hey, you’re one to talk,” Connor replies immediately, and then they’re both not laughing anymore. 

They’re just… taking each other in. 

Remembering everything. 

Evan looks like he’s about to say something, about to ask Connor if he’s sure, and Connor has to let him know that nothing’s changed. 

“I love you so much,” Connor says firmly. “I love you and that’s not going to change. It’s not. And we’re going to take care of ourselves and each other, okay? We’re going to be okay.”

Evan nods, tearing up again. “I love you,” he says, smiling through his tears. “I just love you so much.”

“Have you had the spinach puffs?” Connor asks. “I’m serious, they’re really fucking good. And they’re kosher.” He gently wipes the tears off Evan’s face, then kisses him again. “You should have a spinach puff.”

“Guess we’d better go back to the party,” Evan says, sounding reluctant. 

“Guess so,” Connor replies, wrapping his arms around Evan again. “Just… five more minutes.”

With that, Evan’s lips come crashing towards his, and he feels like his heart could explode any minute with how fucking happy he is, how good it feels, how safe he feels, how Evan still fits against him, after all this time, and he lets go, lets himself get lost in this feeling. 

When they head back down on NYU to the store floor for the rest of the party, Connor takes Evan’s hand and doesn’t let it go for the rest of the night. 

He can tell that people notice. Zoe gives him a significant look, eyebrows raised, and his dad is definitely smiling. Heidi looks like she’s about to cry, cheeks pink from the wine, and Leslie seems pleased, though Jax and Maureen’s smiles are more cautious. 

Connor knows it might take people a bit of time to get used to the idea of him and Evan back together, but he doesn’t really care, as long as he and Evan are on the same page again. 

It’s just… 

It feels right. 

It feels more right than anything else. 

And he couldn’t be happier. 

As the evening draws to a close and people start to leave, Evan doesn’t. He helps get Martha and Gladys into their cab, helps the caterers take down tables, helps Carmen pack up the sound gear, helps the bartender take the boxes of alcohol upstairs to Connor’s apartment and even helps Jax and Otis get a drunk and giggly Maureen into a cab with Otis’s guitar. 

And then it’s just Evan and Connor, in the empty bookstore. 

“This might be too fast,” Connor says to Evan, taking his hand and kissing the knuckles gently. “But… would you stay? Stay with me tonight. Please?”

Evan smiles, this soft smile that Connor loves, loves more than anything. “Of course,” he says gently, taking Connor’s face in his hands and kissing him carefully, deliberately, like it means something. “Of course I’ll stay.”


	174. ONE HUNDRED AND SEVENTY-THREE

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> “I’m real. And so are you. And we made it. Yeah? We made it.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Please read the chapter notes at the end thank you.

You’re on a carousel that won’t stop turning, no matter what you do.

From where you’re sitting, you can see all the possibilities, stretching out for forever. The past and the present colliding. What might have been, what would have been, what was and what still might be, all laid out in front of you. 

You are seventeen years old, stepping into a bathtub. 

You are twenty-seven years old, stepping into a bathtub. 

Hot steam and cold ice. 

Two different moments. Two different moments where you nearly met your end. 

Two deaths out of twenty-two. One in eleven odds. 

Not great odds. 

But then again, the odds have always been stacked against you. 

You’re on the roof of a building, watching as the man you love takes his final steps into the air and plummets to the ground. You step off after him but you know that it won’t stick. 

It won’t stick and you’ll be stuck. 

Evan is seventeen years old. 

You write your name on his cast. 

You don’t know him at all. 

Evan is nearly twenty-seven years old. 

You grab his arm. It goes right through. 

He jumps. 

You grab his arm. You hold on tight. 

You walk him down the stairs. 

You save him. 

A few blocks away, another version of him saves you right back. 

Evan is twenty-nine years old.

You haven’t seen him in months. 

You grab his arm. You hold on tight. 

You take him home. 

You save him. 

There’s another version where you’re sitting in a chair in a room you don’t recognise and you’re gone. You’re just gone. 

Lost in the in-between. 

You look down at your body in a hospital bed, face pale, cheeks sunken, motionless. 

You’re gone. 

You’re just gone. 

Evan is holding your hand. Talking to you softly as machines keep you breathing. 

Begging you to open your eyes. 

Then telling you that it’s okay to go. 

_ “I love you. I will love you forever, I will love you until I can’t anymore.” _

Your eyes open. 

It all starts going faster. 

Evan, thin and pale and wrecked. 

Evan, his eyes dead and hopeless. 

Evan, carrying you up the stairs. 

_ “I’ve got you.” _

Evan, telling you it’s over. 

Evan, walking away. 

Evan, telling you he loves you.

_ “When did you stop loving me?” _

_ “I never stopped being in love with you. Never.” _

You don’t know if you believe him. 

But you want to. 

You really fucking want to. 

You see Evan, over and over again, so many different versions, and the carousel keeps turning, the world spins madly on, faster and faster and faster until suddenly it stops. 

And there’s Evan. 

Your Evan. 

The one you know. The one who’s real. 

Thinner than he should be but not as thin as he was. Glasses, and hair that’s a little wavy, in a short sleeved blue shirt. Visible burn marks on his arms, but they’re healing. 

You’re both healing. 

“I didn’t stop,” Evan says, his voice soft. “I never stopped. I never stopped loving you.”

“Is this real?” you ask. 

Evan laughs a little. “Stole my line.”

“I love you.”

“I love you, too.”

* * *

I’m watching myself in a mirror. Rinsing my mouth, wiping vomit and mouthwash from my lips. I’m just shy of twenty seven and I don’t see myself making it there. 

Except I know I will. 

Somehow. 

But the record won’t stop skipping. And lies fall too easily from my lips. “I’m fine,” I tell everyone. Tell myself. I’m not fine. 

Connor sees through it.

Always has. 

He’s watching me in a computer lab, scrawling his name massively on a telltale cast nobody comments on. Like a brand. Like he’s claiming space that’s not really his. 

It is his, though, I think. Always has been. 

It’s always been Connor. 

The world spins madly on. Graduation and a pause a strange and brief moment that happens so fast that you convince yourself it wasn’t really there in the years to come. 

Years and years and years. 

Fast forward. Fights and laughter with a beautiful girl at my side, but Sabrina can’t fix me. Won’t, I think. Maybe she could have but she doesn’t have to. So she doesn’t. 

Loneliness. Vast and unending. Repeating and repeating, the record won’t stop skipping. 

Nobody listens to vinyl anymore, I say to Connor one night, and he rolls his eyes and tells me not to hate his stupid hipster tendencies. 

Things happen in split screen. 

Stepping off a roof. The wind biting and cold and feeling it all the moment I hit the icy pavement the hot blood pouring the life out of me, my neighbors calling 911, Alex is upset and Mattie is pulling her away from my mangled remains while Mr. Abrahamson whispers in Hebrew. 

Connor doesn’t speak Hebrew, I think distantly as the other side of the screen rolls on. Connor convinces me I’m not going to be alone if I come down with him. I do. He saves me and saves me more in the months ahead. He saves me in every possible way. Holds my hand and the record unsticks, moves forward, the turntable playing a song I don’t know but recognize. 

_ “I’m fueled by caffeine and spite,” _ Connor promises me in February when the world wants to scare us away. Swears he’s not going to let the universe take him away from me. 

I believe him and the universe turns him into a liar. He leaves and I’m broken. 

I’m on the roof again and Connor isn’t real and I know I don’t actually remember this so I watch, detached, as I die and he stays stuck. Tries to throw himself out a window. Climbs in a sensory deprivation tank and punches a girl I don’t know and then finally ends up in a bathtub full of ice. 

I’m in a hospital room, begging him to open his eyes. Telling him I’ve got him and he can go if he has to. I lie. He can’t go. He can’t. 

He doesn’t. 

The lie comes out easily. “I’m fine,” I tell everyone. Tell him. I’m fine. I’m trying. 

I’m trying but I’m not. 

I’m not fine. 

I carry Connor up the stairs. 

I carry him to bed. I hang on with white knuckles. I carry myself and my broken heart around because he left he left he left. 

I leave. 

I don’t want to go. I tell myself I have to. 

I fail. I fail him.

Lies keep slipping and I try to believe because if I just believe I won’t have to see what’s really there. 

Pain and bodies of people who aren’t Connor who aren’t the one I want pile up. I’m drinking more. I’m sick. I’m so sick. Screaming at my mother. My best friend. Myself. I can’t drown it out there aren’t enough words to do it. I can hardly feel anything at all. I am hardly anything at all. I burn my arms and try to feel something anything but it’s all blank a slick emptiness. Like an unsigned cast. I break. Let myself be broken over and over and over. I miss him. Look what you made me do, I think. You left and made me do this. 

It’s another lie but I like this one. It’s easier. 

I’m on the roof again. I think I’m imagining Connor. He won’t kiss me even though I demand it, beg for it. Tells me he loves me and I think I hate him for lying. He saves me.  _ “Then I don’t want you.” _

He saves me anyway. Again he saves me because the record won’t stop skipping. He always saves me. 

Hard work and a lot of pain. I fail him a lot. I fail by telling the truth, I fail by telling lies. I keep failing him over and over. But I try to learn. 

He’s with someone else now and I don’t even know because to me he’s always been mine. I wear it like a brand like a name scrawled on a cast, obvious but never questioned. Selfish. Stupid really. 

Mine. 

His. 

We dance around it but it’s there. Palpable and real. 

We’re at a party and he gives a toast. To himself. His accomplishments, of which there are so many. His people. 

Me. I’m his people. Still. I don’t deserve it. 

I never manage to deserve him. 

But I don’t question it now. 

_ “Can I? Can I have you back? Please?” _

I never really left. Always his. It’s always been him. I consent. Take me have me however he wants. 

He’s right in front of me. Scared eyes and silly pineapple shirt. Beautiful and healing. 

We’re both healing. 

He is so beautiful. 

The truth, for once, slips out. “I didn’t stop,” I tell him. “I never stopped. I never stopped loving you.”

“Is this real?” He asks me. 

I smile. Laugh. “Stole my line.”

“I love you,” he tells me. 

I believe him. I feel it, as real as the sun shining and the sky is blue. Connor loves me. And I him. “I love you too.”

We suddenly have it all. Converging in this one spot. Time. We have so much time. 

And I will love him for all of it. 

Until I can’t anymore.

* * *

Connor opens his eyes and he’s in his bedroom, in his bed. Evan’s head is resting on the pillow next to him, the pillow on Evan’s side of the bed.

It’s always been Evan’s side of the bed. 

It takes him a moment to readjust, a moment to center himself. A moment to realize that Evan’s eyes are open, too.

“Hey.”

“Hey.”

“Can’t sleep?” Connor asks. 

Evan seems to consider, wrinkling his nose a little bit. “I was sleeping,” he says after a moment. There is something soft in his expression. “I saw you.”

“Yeah?”

Evan nods. 

Connor smiles. “I saw you, too.” He blinks. Takes a moment to look at Evan, really look. The freckles across his nose look different in the dim light. A little bit like stars, almost.

“Yeah?” Evan returns, a contented smile covering his face, making a home in the corners of his eyes. 

Fuck, he loves him so fucking much. 

“When we weren’t talking,” Connor says suddenly, “I saw you in my dreams all the time.” He blinks slowly. “All the time.”

Evan looks at him, this slow, soft look that makes Connor feel completely, wonderfully seen. He blinks, too, and focuses his eyes on Connor. Only on Connor. 

“Me too,” he whispers. “I dreamed about you all the fucking time.”

* * *

“You did?” Connor asked, his eyes sleepy and warm and soft. He was beautiful, even in the dimness of his bedroom, he was beautiful, half asleep with heavy eyelids, he was so fucking beautiful. 

Evan turned slightly to get a better look at him. “All the time,” He said. “I… I missed you? So much. And I liked the dreams. We were almost always happy in them.”

“Yeah?” Connor said softly, turning to look at Evan. 

“Yeah,” he said, his voice kind of rough around the edges. “In the happy ones... It was like… like we were us, but if… if you hadn’t gotten so sick. If you hadn’t gotten stuck?”

Connor frowned ever so slightly. Then his brow smoothed back out. He smiled. “Well. Maybe that was what we saw?”

“Hmm?” Evan was sure he was half asleep and not understanding. He wanted to curl up into the warmth radiating from Connor’s side of the bed, he wanted to wrap himself around Connor like an aggressively affectionate vine. He pressed a sleepy kiss to Connor’s shoulder, his brain overloaded with how comfortable and safe and warm and happy he felt.

“Maybe we saw ourselves. Somewhere else. Somewhere… where I didn’t end up in a coma or whatever?” He yawned. Evan liked watching how his eyes crinkled up when he did. He’d forgotten how much he missed Connor like this… sleepy, loose, close by.

Evan sighed, considering that. “Maybe,” he said, trying to be thoughtful and present and focused, but his mind was groggy and heavy with sleep. Connor was here and Evan was here and he got to touch him. He got to hold him. That was… Focusing was stupid anyway. Evan kissed Connor’s cheek, his eyes closing again. “You asked me to move in with you…” He remembered then. “And there were snowball fights and like. Thai food? And you asked me to move in.” 

Connor smiled. “And you said  _ yes… _ I had ten reasons. I had a list.”

“You would though. So fucking cute,” Evan sighed, kissing Connor’s cheek softly again. “I… I was really sick over the winter. Before your birthday, I was… I kept dreaming about you.” His brain didn’t like that memory so much. “Had nightmares too.”

“So did I,” Connor said softly, and Evan held onto him tighter because the nightmares were bloody and painful and horrible because Connor was gone, he was just gone. 

Evan didn’t dwell on it. He was here with Connor now. He could feel him breathing. He could smell his sandalwood body wash and his brand of conditioner and the thing that he’d never been able to identify as anything other than  _ Connor.  _ He was safe from the nightmares. Safe and sound and here. 

They were here. Together. They were here and they were together and Connor was here and he was so fucking beautiful. He had lines from the pillow on one side of his face, pink and faint. His hair was a mess. He kept giving Evan with these fond, soft looks. Looks that made Evan smile, and exhale in frustration because why wasn’t Connor kissing Evan exactly? So then he’d kiss Connor softly and it was better. They were here. Tangled together. No distance, no separation, no lonely nights missing each other. Just here. Together. Familiar and brand new, folding into one. Time converging into one spot. 

“Do you think it’s real?” Evan asked then.

“What is?”

“This… us. The multiverse, whatever? With the dying and… and the other timelines and whatever?” Evan said. “Do you think it’s real? Or are we just living in some kind of, like, shared delusion? I mean we’re having shared dreams that’s kind of… Like it could be. That thing. The French one. Fuck I have... a law degree. I'm smarter than this...” Evan blinked his eyes, his eyelids threatening to droop. “Folie à deux or whatever?” He held onto Connor tighter, listening to the drumbeat of his heart, gentle and steady and reassuring. "Or maybe it's real?"

* * *

Connor wants to give the question the consideration it warrants, wants to treat it with the seriousness it needs, but he’s only half awake and all he can think about is how good it feels to have Evan holding onto him, holding him tightly. 

He wants to be thinking about this whole multiverse thing but it’s hard to hold onto when his brain is repeating the same three things, over and over. 

_ Safe. Warm. Home.  _

“I don’t know,” he says after a while. He runs his hand along Evan’s back, pushing up his shirt so he can rest his hand on his skin, so they’re connected. “I mean, anything’s possible.”

Evan lets out this breath against Connor’s neck that might be a laugh of amusement, might be a huff of indignation, Connor doesn’t know, but it’s cute as all fuck. He lifts his head up a little and moves closer, kissing Connor gently, and Connor leans into it, lets it consume him, feeding into those same three thoughts that keep looping around. 

_ Safe. Warm. Home. _

“I don’t know either,” Evan says a long moment later. “I don’t… all I know is that I hope this is real.”

“Hope what is real?”

“This,” Evan repeats. “Here. Now. I hope it’s real.”

Connor kisses Evan’s forehead. His cheeks, both of them. 

Then kisses him properly, on the lips, and it’s safe and it’s warm and it’s home. 

When they pull apart, Evan’s eyes are soft and warm and brimming with something Connor can’t find the words to describe. 

“I’m real,” Connor says, his voice soft but firm. “And so are you. And we made it. Yeah? We made it.”

Evan smiles. 

Pulls Connor closer. 

Rests his head in the crook of his neck, his breath tickling his skin, and it’s still familiar after all this time. 

_ Safe. Warm. Home. _

“Hey,” says Connor, after what might be minutes but could be hours, he doesn’t know. “Guess what?”

“What?” asks Evan sleepily. 

Connor pulls Evan closer. “I love you.”

* * *

“I love you too,” Evan said softly, his voice tired and worn, eyes closing because he was tired and so fucking comfortable. He relished the feeling of Connor’s hand resting against his back. It felt almost too good to be true, lying here with Connor, his face pressed into the crook of Connor’s neck, but he felt as if it was where he belonged. 

Where he was meant to be. 

Evan didn’t know if he believed in stuff like “meant to be.” 

But he believed in Connor. In them. 

Connor had done everything for Evan and he would be eternally grateful. And Evan loved him. With everything he had. He loved him. Evan loved Connor so much it filled him up, reinforced the cracks in his broken parts, rebuilt him into someone worth loving. 

“I love you,” he murmured softly to Connor, hardly able to keep his eyes open. Connor's breathing was getting slower, more even. He let out a contented sigh. “Not gonna stop… I’m gonna love you until I can’t anymore, okay?”

“Okay,” Connor said softly. “Love you.”

“Love you.”   


**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Okay so... that's it. That's the end! World Spins Madly On is over. 
> 
> HOWEVER: 
> 
> There is going to be an epilogue that will be broken into a few parts. We won't be keeping to our (frankly ridiculous) update schedule for the epilogue, however. You can expect updates once weekly on Sundays NZST for the next few weeks. 
> 
> Thanks for sticking with us and with Connor and Evan through this long and often painful journey.


	175. EPILOGUE: PART ONE

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> “And tomorrow? Will you love me then?”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Hey y'all this is epilogue part 1 of 5. 
> 
> Please make sure you remember that this fic is tagged as explicit.

Evan opened his eyes, momentarily blinded by the bright light, and blinked a few times. His surroundings came into fuzzy focus and he realized he was in Connor’s bedroom. In Connor’s bed. Curled up against Connor. 

Out of habit, he started to readjust, pull away… 

Only to remember that they had talked last night. Properly. Connor asked if he could have Evan back and Evan had happily, elatedly, immediately agreed. 

And Connor had asked him to stay that night. 

So here he was. 

In Connor’s bed, his face buried in the crook of Connor’s neck, so close he could watch Connor’s pulse ticking below the jaw if he wanted. Connor sighed, moved his head so it rested against the top of Evan’s, fast asleep with his arms curled around Evan, his hand having crept under Evan’s t-shirt to rest against the bare skin of his back. 

He smelled the same. Like sandalwood and that brand of conditioner he always bought and like… Connor. Like home. 

Evan adjusted his grip ever so slightly, his fingers grasping until dipped slightly under the fabric of Connor’s t-shirt sleeve, they rested against the bare, warm skin of Connor’s arm, the lightest touch. 

Connor was warm. 

Warm. Not shivering with cold, not sick. 

Warm and alive and. He loved Evan. 

He loved Evan. Still. 

Fuck, that was…. Everything. Absolutely everything. 

Evan closed his eyes again, letting himself just enjoy this. Enjoy being held loosely in Connor’s arms, enjoy the deep even rhythm of Connor breathing, enjoy the warm glow the sun shone into the room, the fact that he was allowed to be here again. He was allowed to rest easily against Connor, hold onto him, he was allowed to shut his eyes and go back to sleep and not be consumed by guilt and confusion about his sleeping self falling back into muscle memory. 

Despite everything, they had made their way back to this moment. Where everything was okay. 

And that was fucking everything. 

Evan did fall back asleep again after a while. He was too comfortable not to drift off with Connor wrapped around him. It felt safe. Secure. A gentle place to rest his head. 

When he woke up again, the light had shifted a little. Connor was moving, pressing a kiss to the top of Evan’s head, pulling him in closer even though there was hardly space between them at all. “Hey,” He said, his voice still crackly with sleep. 

“Hi,” Evan said, his eyes wanting to shut again, his brain sending signals saying he was too comfortable, too content to properly open them right now. 

“We slept in,” Connor said, his voice close to Evan’s ear. “It’s nearly ten.”

Evan blinked a few times, opening his eyes against the command of his sleepy body. “Huh,” he said, his brain still communicating that it wanted him to stay exactly where he was. Connor kissed the top of his head again, then adjusted so he and Evan were actually looking at each other. 

“Hi,” Connor said, smiling, his eyes still a little sleepy. Crinkling at the corners. 

“Hi,” Evan said, his face muscles moving into a huge stupid smile without his permission but he didn’t care because he was here and Connor was here and they were both here in this bed and they loved each other. “How’d you sleep?” He asked. 

“Great, actually,” Connor said, still smiling. Connor leaned in and kissed Evan. Soft, warm, wonderful.

Evan wanted to melt into it. “Hang on,” he said, pulling away slightly. “I have morning breath, I -”

Connor didn’t let him finish. He kissed him again, deeper this time, and suddenly Evan really didn’t care about morning breath so much. He just wanted more of this. He pulled Connor in closer, kissing him properly, their lips never really breaking apart, and Connor held onto Evan tightly, pushing himself closer as he did, as if the infinitesimally small space between them was far too wide. They kissed slowly, lazily, unhurried and unrushed and just nice. Lovely. Perfect. Evan gently threaded his fingers in Connor’s messy hair, and Connor sighed against his lips and broke away for a moment to take in a deep breath. He exhaled and kissed Evan harder, his teeth softly biting down on Evan’s bottom lip, his hand coming to rest on Evan’s hip and pulling almost cautiously, until his body was pressed firmly against Evan’s, until their hips collided. Evan’s heart was pounding hard in his chest, so he held on tighter to Connor, one hand tangled in his hair, the other grasping at Connor’s hip, keeping him there, keeping him close, and Evan could feel Connor getting hard against him and he was almost painfully turned on having Connor this close, kissing him, touching him… The pair of them broke away, breathless, smiling, after a few minutes. 

“Hi,” Evan said, feeling almost dazed. 

“Hi,” Connor said, his cheeks adorably pink, his smile almost bashful. “I… So I’m a little… rusty?”

Evan didn’t understand. He furrowed his brow in confusion. “At… kissing?”

Connor’s face was really bright pink now. “No, uh.” He looked up, not meeting Evan’s eye. “Like. Sex?” 

“Oh,” Evan said, surprised. He hadn’t even gotten that far in his head yet, he was content to just make out with Connor until the inevitable heat death of the universe, he was only half awake really. “Uh -”

“I mean, they say it’s just like riding a bike,” Connor went on, his cheeks and ears going from deliciously pink to genuinely red. “But I never learned how to ride a bike so…”

Evan pulled away ever so slightly to get a better look at Connor’s face. “You never learned how to ride a bike?” He asked, surprised and confused and a little bit amused by this. 

“I was not an athletic child,” Connor said, not quite meeting Evan’s eye. 

“But -” Evan started to protest because that was just unfair, that meant Connor had been deprived of so many awesome childhood memories, but then his brain clicked back into focus because they weren’t really talking about riding bicycles right now. “I. Okay. Maybe let’s… sit up for a minute?” He said. 

“Fuck, I didn’t mean to make it weird,” Connor said, his cheeks still rosy and his eyes still not meeting Evan’s. 

“You didn’t!” Evan insisted, “Just, it might be easier to talk if we’re not, like…” He didn’t have a delicate way to say “casually sort of dry humping” so he just sort of trailed off. Connor seemed to get where he was going. They unwound their arms from each other, disengaged their hips, sat up in the bed. Evan pulled his legs to his chest, wrapping his arms around them so his body didn’t get any ideas, and Connor sat cross legged beside him. “Okay so. We’re… grown ass people. We can talk about this.”

Connor nodded. 

They were both quiet.

“Do you… wanna start or…?”

“I’m nervous,” Connor said after a minute. “It’s… been a while and. Yeah.” 

Evan nodded, nodded a lot, probably more than normal people might nod because part of him was again reminded that Connor had not slept with Nate, and something primal and animalistic and possessive inside of him was extremely pleased about that, that Connor was  _ his _ and never Nate’s with his stupidly perfect beard and his stupidly pretty eyes and his dumb fucking saving people thing. 

Right. 

Evan was still nodding. “Sorry,” he said, blinking himself back into the conversation. “I kinda thought if I started nodding I’d come up with something to say and that… didn’t happen.” 

Connor rolled his eyes at him. 

Evan loved him so fucking much. 

“I mean… Uh. Well. You know I… When we weren’t together, I…”  _ Fucked other people. Lots of other people. Was sort of a slut. Slept with very inappropriate men. Got chlamydia.  _ “It hasn’t been as long. For me.”

“Yeah,” Connor said, and he was frowning ever so slightly. 

Evan felt his own face heating up. “Like, so. I get it if that… if you’re not… I know that’s kind of, like, a thing so. If you don’t want to -”

“I want to,” Connor said, cutting him off quickly. 

“Oh,” Evan said, his heart beating really fucking fast. 

“But maybe like. Not. Right this second?” 

Evan nodded again. “Yeah that’s… totally fair, I mean. We’ve only been... It hasn’t even been twelve hours like. We. I…” He blew out a breath. “Fuck. I swear I never used to be this bad at talking.”

“What’s going on?” Connor said, his eyebrows knitting together. He tapped the side of Evan’s head lightly. “I can hear your brain whirring.”

Evan smiled. “I’m just… I’m nervous. Too. Also. I’m nervous… I don’t want to mess this up. Not this time. I love you so much so. I don’t want to mess this up?”

Connor smiled at Evan. Reached over and took his hand, laced their fingers together, squeezed. “Maybe we just… take it slow?” 

Evan nodded. He could do that. “Yeah. That sounds… Yeah.”

“And, like. You know. Do the adult thing where we talk about our feelings and whatever.”

Evan smirked. “I thought words were overrated,” He said, teasing, his free hand poking Connor’s shoulder gently. 

Connor grinned back at him. “Oh they super are but… I’m not sure we can do this one without, like. Talking.”

Evan nodded. “Can’t really negotiate sex through interpretive dance, no.”

Connor laughed at him. “I love you,” He said, laughter still in his voice. “You’re so dumb, I love you so much.” He laughed again, bright and happy. “Though I’d love to see that.” 

“I love you too,” Evan said, squeezing Connor’s hand tighter. “But I’m never interpretive dancing for you. You know I dance… in a tragic white boy way.” He tugged at Connor’s hand a little, until Connor looked him in the eye. Evan smiled. “I really fucking love you, Connor.” 

Connor smiled at him. 

Evan leaned over and kissed Connor’s cheek. “We don’t have to have sex at all, honestly? Like. I know our whole thing for a long time was just, like. Constantly fucking. But Connor I… I  _ love _ you. So much. I just want to, like, see you and spend time with you and… hopefully kiss you and whatever? You’re just. So important to me and I love you so much and the… the main thing I care about is that you feel safe and comfortable and, like, okay. As much as part of me just wants to jump you right now because of how unbelievably beautiful you are, the thing I care most about is whether or not you’re okay. And we’re okay, like. Together. So, I dunno. If we never have sex again but I get to be with you, if I get you? Then that’s… amazing.”

Connor eyed Evan cautiously. “You mean that?”

Evan nodded. “Yeah.”

“Because I know that…” Connor blew out a breath. “I know you like. Like sex? A lot. I just don’t want to disappoint you or…” 

Evan shook his head. “You can’t do that. Really.” 

Connor looked at Evan, his eyes searching, and his lips shaping into a slight frown. “Also. Okay. The… I mean. You took care of the chlamydia right? Because my immune system is kind of shit and -”

Evan laughed. “Oh my god,” He said, his face burning. “Yes. Yes I took all of my antibiotics and got retested and learned a very important lesson about the importance of barriers. I took care of it.” 

Connor’s cheeks were pink. “Sorry, I -”

“No,” Evan said, shaking his head. “You don’t have to apologize. I love you. You get to ask those questions. You deserve to, like, feel safe about someone you might sleep with.” He cleared his throat, a little awkward. “So, just to. Like. Get you up to speed, I got retested for everything at the end of July when I saw my doctor. I’m negative, and I haven’t slept with anyone since. Uh. February.” That last bit raised a bit of a lump in his throat, but Evan pushed through. “So, we can go ahead and trust the results since I’m out of the window period for everything.”

Connor nodded. “Okay. That’s… thanks.”

“And uh. Whenever we’re, like. Ready? We can talk about it, yeah? We’ll talk about all of it.” Evan smiled. “Because I love you so much and… and you love me.” Part of him wanted to stop and check, make sure he wasn’t making assumptions or fucking up. But Connor nodded, smiling this small, slightly relieved looking smile. “Okay?”

“Okay.”

A moment later, Connor’s stomach growled, breaking the slightly uncomfortable silence. 

Evan looked at him, smiling a little, and casually said, “You know, I could really go for French Toast.” 

Connor grinned back, “I was just thinking about scrambled eggs.”

Evan sighed. “We were talking about sex, and you were thinking about eggs?”

“Yeah, I’m kinda hungry,” Connor said, his voice even and his eyes flashing wickedly. 

Evan sighed dramatically, “You are so infuriating sometimes,” He said, laughing. “I love you so fucking much.” A moment or maybe just a second passed. “Do you seriously not know how to ride a bike?”

Connor shrugged. “I just didn’t really care enough to learn.”

* * *

“Okay, that’s it,” Evan says, sounding determined. “I’m teaching you how to ride a bike.”

“You don’t drive,” Connor points out. “So by that logic, I should be insisting you learn how to drive as well.”

Evan’s eyes widen. He tilts his head a little. “I mean, it’s not the worst idea,” he says thoughtfully. “Tell you what. We’ll make that a goal. You learn to ride a bike and I learn to drive.”

Connor’s heart feels like it’s going to burst and he can’t stop grinning. 

Evan’s making plans with him. 

Goals. 

He’s planning to be here. 

He’s planning to  _ stay. _

God, Connor wants him to stay. Wants to keep him, so fucking desperately. He never wants to be away from Evan ever again, he wants to keep him, he wants to keep him forever. 

“Okay,” he says. “I’ll learn to ride a bike.” He scrunches up his nose. “I’m going to look so fucking stupid.”

“And I’m probably going to have multiple panic attacks on the side of the road,” Evan replies immediately. 

“I’ll be there,” Connor says. “To hold your hand. Okay?”

Evan smiles at him, this bright smile that rivals the sun. “Me too.”

They get breakfast at the diner where they didn’t die. It’s a slow morning so they take their time, staying longer than they usually would, just… talking. Catching up. 

Evan’s in the middle of a story about his boss’s goldendoodle when Connor’s phone buzzes. He checks it to see there’s a text from Andi. 

“Andi had the babies last night,” he announces to Evan. “A boy and a girl. Zebulon and Dinah.” 

“Are the parents Jewish?” Evan asks, seemingly interested. “Those are some pretty darn Jewish names.”

“I don’t know,” Connor admits. His phone buzzes again. “Andi wants to know if I’m free and can bring her a milkshake. She’s still in the hospital.”

He looks at Evan, who nods. “If you have to go-”

“Come with me,” Connor interrupts. “I bet Andi would be glad to see you.”

Evan seems a little hesitant. “She asked you, though.”

A moment later, Evan’s phone buzzes. He picks it up and laughs a little. 

“Let me guess,” Connor says with a smile. “That’s Andi.”

Evan laughs. “Yeah,” he says fondly. “She’s telling me that you’re bringing her a milkshake and I should come along with you.” 

“See?” says Connor with a grin. “She wants you there. Let’s go.” 

It’s not long before they’re at the hospital where Andi’s just given birth which is, thankfully, not the hospital Connor stayed in when he was in a coma. They pick up a milkshake on the way, as well as a truly ridiculous balloon and stuffed animal combo from the giftshop, over which they have a nearly five minute long argument about who is going to pay. 

When they get to Andi’s room, she’s sitting cross-legged on her hospital bed, playing Solitaire with playing cards. 

It’s been so long since Connor’s seen someone playing Solitaire with actual cards he needs a moment. 

Her eyes light up when she sees them and her face explodes into a massive grin when she notices they’re holding hands. 

“How are you holding up?” Connor asks, a little taken aback as Andi all but leaps off the bed and nearly tackles him in a bone-crushing hug. 

“Oh, I’m fine,” she says dismissively. She pulls away and smiles at him. “Apparently suspiciously fine. Which is why I’m still here. I wanted to go home right after I popped the peanuts out.” 

Before Connor can respond, she’s let him go and has wrapped herself around Evan in an equally fierce embrace. Evan smiles and relaxes into the hug. When Andi finally lets go, she kisses his cheek then pats it softly in this oddly maternal gesture. 

“Hi Andi,” says Evan, his voice warm, and Connor’s a little surprised to see that Evan seems more or less unfazed by Andi’s Andiness. “Congratulations!”

“Thank you,” says Andi with a smile. “I’m pretty excited with my first foray into people growing. It all went really well.” Her smile fades a little as she sighs. “I miss being pregnant, though. Is that weird?”

“You’re asking the wrong people,” says Connor with a laugh. “Neither of us have a frame of reference.”

“How are the babies?” Evan asks. 

Andi grins. “Oh, they’re with their parents. They’re over the moon, it’s so stinking cute.” Her expression turns fond. “I’m so glad I got to be part of this experience, but I’m glad to have handed them over.”

“Would you do it again?” Connor asks, genuinely curious. 

Andi raises her eyebrows. “Why? You two want one? Because I will totally carry your baby.”

Evan goes bright red. “Uh, it’s a little early for that,” he manages to choke out. 

Andi smiles, then grabs both of them into a tight group hug. “I knew you’d sort things out,” she says confidently. “The universe wants you together. I can tell.”

Evan and Connor exchange a look. Connor can tell that Evan’s thinking along similar lines. 

If the universe wants them together, it needs to stop letting such fucked up shit happen. 

Still, they’re here and they’re together. 

And that’s what counts. 

That’s what matters.

* * *

Evan went to work on Monday morning, smiling a little to himself as he worked, because every so often, Connor would text him. 

Little stuff, really. 

Edgar getting excited about a squirrel outside the bookstore. 

A song Connor liked with a spotify link. 

_ “How hard do you think it would be to learn to sew?”  _

And Evan had responded,  _ “I think it would depend on what you wanted to learn how to sew.” _

_ “A dinosaur costume for Edgar. Maureen might have convinced me he’d look cute.”  _

_ “Please don’t make a fursuit for your cat,”  _ Evan texted back. 

_ “Can animals be furries? Now you’re asking the real questions.” _

It was a good day. 

Evan had initially made the appointment to see Oliver on Monday because he had been worried he might get overwhelmed with feelings at the bookstore’s party, thinking back to two years ago when Connor had confessed his feelings to Evan after the launch party. 

When Oliver walked into the reception area, Oliver greeted Evan with a smile. “You ready?” 

Evan nodded, following Oliver into his office. He settled into the chair he always picked and Oliver settled into his own chair, crossing his legs and looking at Evan expectantly. “So. How was the party?”

Evan felt his face breaking into a massive, stupid smile. “Good. It was… it was really good.”

Oliver raised his eyebrows. “You were pretty anxious going in.”

“Connor told me he loves me,” Evan said, his face almost hurting with how hard he was smiling. “And uh. He asked if he could have me back? So we’re going to. Try again?”

Oliver smiled really brightly. “Wow. That’s huge! Congratulations!”

“Thank you,” Evan said, feeling almost sheepish about his happiness. “I… I’m kind of. Like. In shock? Still. Like he loves me. And I love him and we’re… gonna try again? And like. I’m so excited but also. Super nervous.”

“Tell me about that,” Oliver said. 

“I really don’t want to fuck it up,” Evan confessed. “I fucked up so badly before.”

Oliver nodded. “So… How are you going to manage that fear?” 

Evan sighed. “I guess, like.” He breathed in through his nose. “I guess if I feel like I might fuck up or if something isn’t, like, working, I just… will try to. Talk about it? With Connor or, like, talk about it here. Rather than just trying to pretend I’m fine. Because pretending I’m fine is sort of. What started a lot of problems for me.”

Oliver nodded. “Is there anything specifically on your mind?”

“Sex,” Evan said, feeling his face coloring. 

“Oh?” Oliver said. “What about sex?”

“Well… I. Can I even have sex?” Evan blurted, his face hot. “I was. Like. Sort of sleeping with everyone when I wasn’t doing well. Like… is it even okay? Or, like. Safe? What if sex is some kind of, like, crazy switch in my brain and that makes me insane? What if I’m just being stupid and impulsive?”

Oliver looked almost amused. “Well, I’m not sure about that. Impulse control has been an issue for you, but I wouldn’t say you’re stupid.” 

Evan glared. 

“Well, okay, let’s try a different approach. Do you want to have sex with Connor?”

Evan swallowed hard and nodded. 

“And did the opportunity, like, arise?”

Evan raised his eyebrows at the phrasing. 

Oliver laughed at himself. “Sorry. Bad choice of words. But, you understand what I mean. Was there an opportunity for you to have sex after you and Connor decided to try again?”

Evan nodded. 

“And did you?”

“No,” Evan said. 

“And why not?”

“Because… we’re both nervous?” Evan said, looking at his hands. “And I didn’t, like, want to rush into it or, like, not really be sure we were ready.”

Oliver nodded. “So, I think that’s a point against being impulsive.”

Evan nodded. 

“And, okay, so. Why do you want to have sex with Connor?”

Evan looked at Oliver, a little incredulous. His face was so hot. “You’ve met him.”

Oliver laughed. “No, I realize he is attractive. But why do you, Evan, want to have sex with Connor specifically?”

Evan chewed his lip, thinking the question over. “Because… I love him?” 

Oliver nodded. “Go on.”

“Because I… I just love him. I wanna feel, like, connected to him, as hokey as that sounds. I want him to feel good and like… feel good with him. God, that sounds so fucking stupid -”

Oliver frowned. “I don’t think that sounds stupid at all. I think it sounds nice.”

Evan felt his face heating up. “Yeah?”

“I mean, yeah. I think when it feels like the right time, you should just tell Connor that.”

* * *

When Leslie arrives to open up the bookstore on Monday morning, the first thing she does is pull Connor into a tight hug and tell him, in no uncertain terms, how glad she is that “you and Evan have finally gotten your shit together again”.

Connor’s expecting it, to be honest. The bookstore was closed on Sunday to give everyone a chance to recover from the party, so this was probably bound to happen. Leslie has this huge smile on her face and Connor knows his is probably even bigger. 

He’s just… stupidly happy. 

Stupidly fucking happy, holy shit. 

He spends the whole day just… smiling and texting Evan. Texting him stupid stuff, like how Maureen thinks Edgar needs a dinosaur costume, or how Edgar saw a squirrel through the window and thought it was the best fucking thing, or just… songs that Connor likes. 

Songs that remind him of Evan. 

Honestly, if he weren’t so happy, he’d probably be disgusted at himself. 

It’s just…

He’s wanted this back for what feels like forever. 

Wanted Evan back. 

And this time, he’s not going to take any of it for granted, because Evan is…

The best. 

The best, most wonderful fucking thing, and Connor is so completely, stupidly gone for him. 

After lunch, he texts Evan and offers to cook him dinner. Evan accepts almost immediately and Connor has a moment of panic where he tries to figure out what he’s going to cook. His mind goes immediately to lamb shanks but he thinks he has to rein it in a little bit. 

There’s still a part of him that feels like maybe he’s dreaming this. 

Maybe he’s dreaming that Evan actually wants him back. 

Connor’s been experimenting with cooking his own Mexican food recently, maybe that would be a good option. He’s pretty much nailed making vegetarian enchiladas and he’s pretty pleased with himself that his beans are nowhere near as salty as the ones at that takeout place. 

Considering how much fucking Mexican takeout he ate in July, it’s probably well past time he started making his own. 

The day goes by quickly but somehow also drags, some kind of weird fucked up paradox of time. As it gets closer to five, Connor can feel himself getting anxious. 

What if Evan decides he’s got better things to do?

What if he isn’t coming?

Leslie seems to pick up on his nerves. “What’s going on?”

Connor shakes his head. “It’s dumb, I’m just… nervous about Evan? It’s dumb, I know it is, it’s just… it’s dumb.”

Leslie shakes her head. “It’s not dumb. It’s okay to be nervous.”

“What if he changes his mind?” Connor blurts out. 

Leslie smiles a little. “I don’t think he’s going to do that.”

Connor runs his hand through his hair. Bites his lip. “I didn’t think he’d leave, either.”

The words sit for a moment, hanging in the air between them. 

After a while, Leslie speaks. 

“It makes sense that you’re thinking about what happened last year,” she says, her voice even more gentle. “It really does. But I think you’ve both worked really hard since then, and what you both had to deal with was really hard.” She smiles a little. Her next words are soft but deliberate. “Anyone with eyes can see that he loves you, Connor. He really, really loves you.”

“I just… don’t want to fuck this up,” Connor admits.

Leslie nods. “I get that.” Her smile widens. “Call me a crazy optimist, but… I don’t think you will.”

* * *

Evan ended up back at Connor’s apartment for dinner. Connor’s experiments into vegetarian Mexican food were so far turning out well. After dinner, they did the dishes side by side at the sink and laughed a little at themselves for how immediately domestic the whole thing was. Dishes cleaned, the pair of them ended up going for a walk because the weather was nice and the sun was sinking low in the sky and Connor said there was a new place that had just opened up a few blocks over that Leslie said had awesome gelato. 

“I already checked, the place has like… 10 kosher certified flavors?”

Evan smiled so hard he thought he might break his jaw. “I love you,” he said, pulling Connor into a kiss before they even got out of the door. “I just really fucking love you.”

They walked to the gelato place as the sun was sinking, casting long shadows and turning the sky rosy. Connor’s hair caught the light, looking almost gold, and Evan was well aware that it made him one of Those People, people who saw their partners in pretty lighting and had to immediately kiss them, but he really didn’t care. 

“Did you know,” Connor said, licking his tiny gelato spoon as they sat outside and ate their dessert, “That cats can have vitiligo?” 

“What?” Evan said with a laugh. 

“Yeah, I read something about it,” Connor said, smiling. “And it was this mostly black cat who turned mostly white as he got older.”

“Huh,” Evan said. “I thought that was only in humans. I remember in, like, fourth grade Alana Beck did a whole presentation on it?”

“Yeah,” Connor said. “I remember that too. The asshole kids in the back wouldn’t stop asking if she thought Michael Jackson really had that.”

It was such a mundane and weird and normal conversation but it filled Evan up with love and this weird sense of hope that like. They could do this. They could have this. They could be together and love each other and all of the shit in the past didn’t have to consume them. 

“Do you want to come back to my place?” Connor asked as they got up to leave the gelato shop. “I know you have work tomorrow but -”

Evan nodded, kissing Connor softly. “I’d like that a lot. I’d love that a lot.”

“I love you a lot,” Connor said, smirking. 

“Oh my god,” Evan said, rolling his eyes. “You are such a fucking dork I love you.”

They walked hand in hand back to the bookstore and headed up the steps together. Without even talking about it, they headed into Connor’s bedroom, their lips crashing together, almost frantic. “I love you,” Evan murmured desperately, his hands in Connor’s hair and Connor closed his eyes, pulling Evan in closer. 

And Evan… almost couldn’t believe it. How lucky he was, to be here, to be loved like this, to have found his way back to Connor. He was overwhelmed, amazed. Connor kissed him again, pulling away and saying, sounding almost frustrated, “Your glasses by the way? Unbelievably hot.”

Evan laughed. “You think? I kind of feel like a dork when I wear them.”

“I love them. I love you,” Connor said. But then he was gently easing the glasses off of Evan’s face. Placing them carefully on the bedside table. “I was smudging them with my nose,” he said, his cheeks rosy. 

“I love you,” Evan said with a smile.

* * *

There’s a part of Connor that doesn’t feel like this is real. That this is really happening. 

He’s kissing Evan, really kissing him, and it’s almost overwhelming, how much he’s missed this, how much he’s missed feeling Evan’s lips on his, his warm hands on his body, the sound of his breath hitching as Connor bites his bottom lip. 

Evan pulls him closer and Connor can feel his body reacting, his heart racing, blood pumping fast fast fast, and it’s like a dream, like the filthy dreams he’d had about Evan back in July, and he lets out a noise that’s halfway between a laugh and a sob because this is…

This is everything. 

Evan’s lips leave his and Evan looks at him, something almost embarrassed in his expression. “Sorry,” he says in a rush. “Sorry, is this too much? We said we’d take it slow, I don’t want to-”

“I love you,” Connor interrupts. He laughs a little. Evan looks at him, eyes wide and cautious. “I just… I didn’t think we’d have this again. That I’d get to be with you like this again. It’s…” He closes his eyes. Opens them again. “I don’t want to disappoint you.”

Something flashes across Evan’s face. “You could never disappoint me.”

Connor kisses Evan again. Evan takes a moment but he relaxes into it, sighing a little bit, and Connor, encouraged, pulls his lips away to press a kiss to Evan’s jaw, to the junction where his neck meets his chin, then down to his collarbone. 

He’s always loved Evan’s collarbone. 

Evan gasps, and Connor pulls back to look at him properly. “You with me?” he asks. 

“Always,” Evan says immediately. Something crosses his face. “I… I just need you to know that I love you. That this is… that I love you and I want you to feel good and I don’t want to rush you and if you’re not ready...”

Evan’s voice trails off, like he’s asking a question. 

He is, in a way. 

Connor’s always been someone who reacts. Who jumps into things without thinking too hard about the consequences, but this time he needs to be careful. 

With his body. 

With his heart. 

No, he realizes as he thinks that. He can trust Evan with his heart. 

Evan has  _ always _ had his heart. 

Connor reaches down and pulls off the t-shirt he’s wearing, then stands up by the side of the edge, looking Evan in the eye. 

“This is me now,” he says carefully, gesturing to his chest that’s still too scrawny, his abdomen covered in pink lines that used to be an angry red. “Scars and all. I know it’s not… it’s not what you remember. I’m not… I’m different, to how I was when we… when we first started doing this.”

Evan blinks, never taking his eyes away from Connor’s scars. But it’s not like he’s staring, like he’s transfixed by how gruesome they are. It’s like he’s… taking them in. 

Taking it all in. 

Connor feels… seen. 

Evan’s hands are shaking as he takes off his own shirt. 

Connor takes him in. Takes in how he’d made himself less, how he’d tried to make himself disappear, how he’s thin where he used to be broad and pale where he used to be tanned. It’s not as bad as it was back in February. It’s so much better, so much more like the Evan Connor remembers, but it’s still…

“I’m different, too,” says Evan softly. “And I understand if you don’t-”

Connor kisses him gently. Runs his fingers along Evan’s shoulders, almost reverently. His arms, then his sides, then across his stomach. Taking it all in, like he’s trying to see Evan by touch alone. 

“I love you,” Connor says, his voice gentle and firm. “I loved you then and I love you now.”

“And tomorrow?” Evan asks, in this voice that’s a little too desperate to be truly teasing. “Will you love me then?”

“Yeah,” Connor says, almost breathlessly. “I’ll love you then. I’ll love you forever.”

“Forever is a long time,” Evan says, trying to smile, his eyes glassy. 

Connor tries to smile. “I’m a patient man,” he jokes. 

Evan rolls his eyes. “No you’re not.”

Connor actually does smile at that. “I am when it counts,” he says matter-of-factly. He swallows, hard, as he realizes something. “I think I was waiting for you. To come back to me.”

Evan tears up immediately. “I’m so sorry I-”

“None of it matters,” Connor interrupts fiercely. “It’s the past, and we can’t change the past, no matter how much we wish we could.” 

He kisses Evan’s cheek, damp and salty, then kisses him on the lips. Evan responds immediately, his lips parting, and soon Connor can’t think about anything else but the feeling of Evan’s hands on his bare chest, Evan’s lips on his, Evan Evan Evan.

“I love you,” Evan says, breathing heavily. 

“I love you,” Connor replies, because it’s true and it needs to be said. “I want you.”

“You have me,” Evan says, then kisses Connor again, maneuvering him so they’re both lying on the bed, wrapped up in each other. 

Pressed up against each other, like they’re trying to fill up any space between them. Like they can’t get close enough, no matter how hard they try. 

Connor can feel Evan’s body react, feel Evan gasp against him, and kisses his neck, all the way down to his collarbone. 

“I want you,” he says again. “I just want you.” He kisses Evan’s neck again. “Please?” 

Evan gasps against him, then presses his lips to Connor’s in a searing kiss.

* * *

Evan’s heart felt like it might beat out of his chest. Connor kissed him hard, and he rolled so that he was on top of Evan, pressed against him, chest to chest. Evan threaded his fingers through Connor’s hair, gently tugging and Connor sighed against Evan’s lips, his breathing a little ragged. 

“I love you,” Evan said, smiling. “I love you so much.”

“I love you too,” Connor said. He pressed his lips against Evan’s neck, and Evan felt his body erupt in goosebumps. “I love you so much.”

“You’re beautiful,” Evan said, pushing Connor’s hair out of his face, and just… looking at him. “You’re so fucking beautiful.”

Connor’s skin was deliciously pink. But then his eyes dulled. “No I’m… I know I’m not.” 

Evan’s eyebrows knit together. “Yes you are,” He said, his voice hard. “Yes, Connor, you are.”

“I love you,” Connor said softly, kissing Evan softly. “You don’t have to say that just because… I know what I. I’m all, like, scarred and broken and -”

“Broken?” Evan repeated, his voice catching on the word. 

Connor frowned, rolling off of Evan. 

“You’re not broken,” Evan said, his voice soft but steady. “You are… so strong. So unbelievably strong. You survived something terrible and you… Are so fucking beautiful.” He turned so he was leaning over Connor. “You are the strongest, most beautiful person I know. You’re not broken, Connor, not even close.” 

Connor’s face and chest were flushed. “You don’t have to say that.”

“I wouldn’t say it if it wasn’t true,” Evan said, pressing himself up onto his elbows. “And you are. Unbelievably gorgeous.” He kissed Connor’s cheek. “And brilliant.” He pressed kisses along Connor’s neck, and Connor shivered against him. He kissed his way down Connor’s chest, fingers gently tracing patterns along his ribs, and Connor’s hips arched and he sighed restlessly. “And kind. Passionate. Caring. You have the biggest heart of anyone I know.” Evan eyes reached the pink incision scars on Connor’s abdomen. He stilled for a moment, just a second, looking at them, and then tracing over them gently with his fingers. Pressing warm, soft kisses to the raised pink skin. “Beautiful,” he said. “Strong.” He kissed Connor’s scars again. “And definitely, definitely not broken.” 

Connor gasped as Evan kissed Connor’s stomach, again and again, soft and gentle. He looked up, at Connor, at his face. “You still with me?”

Connor nodded. “Yes,” He said softly. 

“I love you so much,” Evan said, his voice ragged. “All of you. And I think you are genuinely the most wonderful, beautiful, and strong person in the entire world. In every reality.” Connor sighed again as Evan pressed another kiss low on his stomach. “Can I take off your pants?”

Connor nodded eagerly. “Yes. Please.” 

Evan took a steadying breath. “Okay.” He smiled at Connor, then reached his fingers, shaking slightly, to push open the button of Connor’s jeans. He could feel that Connor was hard and his heart skipped a beat. Evan slowly unzipped the fly. “Can you lift your hips up for me?” Evan asked. 

“Yeah,” Connor said, sounding breathless. He lifted up his hips and Evan gently tugged the jeans down his legs, until Connor was on his back in just his boxers. His face and chest were flushed. Evan could feel Connor’s legs were trembling. “You… uh. You too. Take off your pants?” Connor was looking at Evan, really looking at Evan, like he was important or special, and Evan felt like he was being X-rayed. He wanted to stand up and cross his arms over his chest for a moment. 

He felt fucking scared. Nervous. But underneath it he… wanted this. Wanted Connor. All of him. And he wanted to give all of himself to Connor too. Even the ugly, broken parts. 

So he swallowed hard. 

And stood up. Unzipped his pants. Pushed them down his legs. He felt… shaky. Unsure suddenly. Because Connor said he loved him but… he was looking at Evan now and maybe. Maybe he might change his mind. Maybe he’d see all of the ways that Evan was… damaged and realize it was too much to overcome. Scar tissue was tougher after all. 

“Hey,” Connor’s voice was soft. He was sitting up. Taking Evan’s hand and pulling him back onto the bed to sit beside him. “You still with me?” He asked, kissing Evan’s shoulder. 

“Are you sure?” Evan asked, his heart galloping too fast in his chest. “That I’m… I mean that you want. Me?”

Connor cupped Evan’s face with his hand, turning it until they were looking directly into each other’s eyes. “Yes,” Connor said. “I want you. I only want you.” 

They laid back down on the bed, legs entangling, Connor half on top of him. Before, when they had sex it was. Easy. Casual almost. They laughed and joked and it was fun but this… this time it was different. It wasn’t a joke anymore. 

Evan swallowed hard. He was losing his nerve. He felt… exposed. Embarrassed. Terrified. He could fuck this up so easily, he could ruin it all with one wrong move, he -

Connor took Evan’s hand. Turned it so that his wrist was facing up and then gently, softly, he kissed him there. The simplest, softest kiss. Kept pressing kisses up Evan’s forearm, to his shoulder, then his neck, his cheek, the shell of his ear. “I love you,” He murmured. “I love you so much.”

Evan turned his head to kiss Connor properly.

“You with me?”

Evan nodded. “I love you,” he murmured against Connor’s lips. “I love you so much.” 

Connor smiled, pulling back slightly. “I love you,” he said, looking Evan in the face. Connor then pulled Evan close to him, arms wrapping around him. Tight. Secure. They were chest to chest, their hips pressed together and Evan arched into it, trying to find a way to get closer to get more of this. “If you want to stop -”

No, no, Evan did not want that. “No. I don’t want to stop.” Evan shook his head, kissing Connor again. “Please I… I love you. I want you I… I want this.” 

“Okay,” Connor said, smiling. “Okay.” He kissed Evan’s cheek. Connor’s were flushed and beautiful and he was so fucking breathtaking, so amazing, and his hand was slowly sliding up and down Evan’s arm, slow and soothing and nice. “I love you.”

“I love you too.”

They were facing each other now, and Connor, always slightly bolder than Evan, always slightly more reactionary, mumbled fuck and was dragging Evan’s boxers off of his hips. “Are these new?” He asked, sounding curious, and Evan let out a slightly frustrated little laugh and said, yes, but didn’t elaborate, didn’t explain that when you suddenly dropped several pant sizes your underwear got to be too big for you too. 

“I like them,” Connor commented, tossing them to the floor, his eyes fixated on Evan. Taking him in. Something in Connor’s expression seemed to suggest that there was something about Evan spread out before Connor that was desirable, wantable. 

Evan was naked. And that… wasn’t fair. He should definitely not be the only naked one. He reached out, propping himself up, and tugged at the waistband of Connor’s boxers, and he was quick to dispose of them before climbing on top of Evan, pressing himself and his hard cock against him and Evan gasped, reaching on instinct to touch Connor. He had to touch him. Connor groaned when Evan’s hand wrapped around his erection, kissing Evan’s collarbone in a way that made Evan feel like his knees were made of jello and rubbing his thumb over the head of Evan’s dick, and Evan’s hips bucked sort of helplessly against Connor. 

Fuck if they weren’t careful this would be all they’d accomplish tonight  _ fuck _ . 

Connor seemed to be thinking along the same lines. He rolled off of Evan, propped up on one elbow and breathlessly asked, “How uh. Do you want to do this?”

Evan bit his lip considering what he wanted. 

“Do you think… uh.” Evan swallowed hard, trying to redouble his nerve because he knew exactly what he wanted, but he had to actually say it. Words were. Hard. He was so fucking distracted because Connor was tracing little circles on his shoulder with his fingers and. Stupid. Evan couldn’t think. He hated words. “Um. Do you… you think that you could uh. That maybe you could…” For fuck’s sake he was a thirty year old man. He could fucking say this, it was just that his heart was pounding and his voice was shaking. “Could you fuck me? Please?” 

He swallowed hard, suddenly very nervous about how Connor might respond. 

“Oh,” Connor kissed him softly. He seemed surprised. “If you… Are you sure? Because I know before. Sometimes. Uh. Bottoming made you feel kind of… like. Vulnerable? And with this… I just want to be sure.”

Evan nodded. “I know,” He said, his face flushed. “I was kind of weird about it before. Don’t worry about it, forget I said anything, you don’t have to I just -”

“Evan,” Connor said gently, his eyes big and wide but. Clear. Certain. “I love you. I don’t want to do anything you’re not going to feel okay about later. So I just wanted to make sure. So. Are you… sure?” Connor asked. 

Evan nodded. 

Connor eyed him seriously, like he was trying to assess what Evan was thinking. And Evan realized Connor was biting his lip. Hard. So hard the skin under his teeth had gone white. Maybe he was just trying to think of a way to say no. Maybe he wasn’t interested in that or he was too tired or. 

Connor exhaled shakily, pressing a kiss to Evan’s cheek. 

_ Oh _ , Evan thought, feeling stupid, it was because he  _ wanted _ it. Connor wanted to fuck him. He was just… making sure. 

Fuck he loved Connor so much. 

“Yes. I’m sure. Please. I’m sure. I’m really, really sure. Fuck, I want you so much Connor-”

Connor kissed Evan again, harder this time, deeper, more intense, and Evan pulled Connor back on top of him, needing to feel his weight, needing contact, needing it so much because he was so fucking in love with him. They kissed for a long time, hips grinding against each other, refamiliarizing themselves with the things that the other liked. Evan pulled Connor’s hair gently, scratched his short fingernails against his scalp. Connor kissed Evan’s neck, his collarbone, made Evan go totally weak when he pulled away and kissed a hot, wet trail down Evan’s chest and stomach to his hips. He gently nipped at Evan’s left hipbone where it jutted out slightly and Evan gasped, his eyes shutting tight, as Connor’s hot breath ghosted over the head of his cock as Connor moved to press a soft kiss to his other hip. 

“Focus,” Connor muttered to himself, his eyes fixed briefly on Evan’s leaking erection. He shook his head slightly, like he really had to work hard and it was so fucking cute, so adorable, and Evan let out a small little laugh as Connor genuinely let out an irritated groan and pulled himself away to fetch a condom and lube from the bedside table. 

“Should probably make sure these haven’t expired,” Connor mumbled, his cheeks so red and Evan sat up with him, smiling and pressing a kiss to the back of Connor’s shoulder, peering at the condom in question. 

“They’re normally good for, like, three or four years,” He said reasonably. 

“I know,” Connor said, flipping it over to read the back. “I just. I think these are the ones we bought when we were really desperate last year? From that bodega because we ran out and I just…” He trailed off. “Sorry. If that’s. Sorry.”

Evan shook his head. “Yeah, I remember. We went through like. An embarrassing amount over Memorial Day weekend.” His cheeks got hotter. “And that’s not even counting the handjob I gave you in the store room after you sold out of copies of that YA novel after the sequel was announced. Or when you blew me in the kitchen that night as payback.”

Connor looked at Evan, his face a little sad. 

“I wasn’t sure if I was… like. Allowed to talk about. Before.”

Evan kissed him. Slowly and deliberately. Because Connor was precious and beautiful and strong and he needed to know that Evan saw him that way. “Of course you can,” Evan said. “I love you.”

“I love you too,” Connor said, his eyes soft and warm. He squinted down at the condom in his hand, muttering that he didn’t know why they had to print the expiration date in such a light font. “Oh good. They don’t expire until 2024.” 

“See?” Evan said, kissing Connor’s bare shoulder. “Plenty of time.”

Connor kissed him again, properly. His tongue explored Evan’s mouth, his fingers pulled gently at Evan’s hair. He broke away to say, “I meant to tell you that I like your hair,” He said, breathless. “It’s… I really like it like this.”

“You think?” Evan asked, suddenly self conscious. 

“I love it,” Connor said, smiling brightly. He kissed Evan again, and Evan just. Let himself be kissed, hard. Let Connor gently push him back onto the mattress. “All wavy on top. It’s seriously. Adorable.”

“H-how do you want me?” Evan asked him softly. 

“Wanna see you,” Connor said, kissing him again. “I love you.”

“I love you,” Evan echoed, overwhelmed because this was… really happening. 

Connor poured some lube onto his fingers and slowly, carefully, started to work Evan open. Evan sighed, closing his eyes, trying to will his body to relax. Connor kept kissing his neck, saying how beautiful he was, murmuring that he loved Evan. “I love you so much,” He said softly. “Just relax. I love you. Want you to feel good.” 

Evan sighed and then the sighs quickly turned to soft whimpers as Connor worked him open with a second finger, brushing teasingly against Evan’s prostate. Evan whined when Connor finally pressed against it properly, his eyes slipping closed, and he could hear Connor take a shaky breath. 

“You look,” He said, breathlessly. “So hot like this.”

“I love you,” Evan mumbled, kissing Connor briefly. “I love you so much.”

“Fuck you’re beautiful,” Connor said back. “You still with me?”

Evan nodded. He was right here. “With you. Right here. I love you.”

“I love you,” Connor replied, kissing him again. “You ready?”

Evan nodded. “Yeah.” 

“Okay.” 

He pulled his fingers out of Evan carefully, then frowned slightly at how slick with lube they were as he tried to open the condom package. “Fucking. Lube fingers,” Connor complained, smiling a little awkwardly, wiping his hand against his thigh to no avail. 

“Here,” Evan said, taking it from him and ripping the plastic open. He handed Connor the condom, and he smiled gratefully, rolling it onto himself while Evan disposed of the wrapper. 

They paused for a second. 

Evan laughed kind of awkwardly. 

“What?” Connor said, his eyebrows knitted in concern. 

“Oh just… We were all ‘oh we’ll be responsible and wait because we’re grown ups,’ and like. We didn’t even make it forty-eight hours.”

Connor laughed. He kissed Evan happily, saying, “You are so fucking weird I love you so much.”

“I love you too,” Evan said. 

And then Connor pushed Evan’s legs open and settled between them. One of his hands held onto Evan’s hips. “If anything, like, feels weird or you just, like, want to stop…”

“I know,” Evan said, nodding. “I love you. I know you’ve got me and I… I want you. I just want you. I’m okay.”

“Okay,” Connor said, positioning himself so his dick was pressed against Evan’s hole but not pushing in. “You’re sure?”

“Oh my god Connor,  _ please _ ,” Evan practically whined. 

Connor nodded and slowly, so fucking slowly, pushed himself inside Evan. Fuck it was… amazing. Fuck. Evan thought, just for a second, that he might actually die because this was the highlight of his existence, this was fucking everything. “You good?” Evan nodded frantically, pressing his fingers into Connor’s hip to urge him on. Fuck it was amazing. The best. Fuck, Connor felt incredible. 

But then Connor rolled his hips and Evan took that back, that was the best thing in the whole fucking world, fuck. 

“I love you so much,” Connor gasped. “Fuck, you’re… you’re amazing.”

“I love you,” Evan returned, breathless and overwhelmed by how true it was. “Holy fuck I love you.”

Connor began to move, slow at first, adjusting the angle a few times, kissing Evan’s lips, his neck, his chest as he went. Evan arched his back, tried to match Connor’s thrusts, his entire body feeling electric, every sense heightened, every nerve overloaded and sensitive. 

They moved together, clutching each other tightly, Evan’s fingers digging into Connor’s back, Connor resting his forehead against Evan’s, his mouth hardly an inch above Evan’s, his warm breath ghosting across Evan’s lips. This was… so much better than any random fucking hookup Evan had in the past. It meant so much more he feared his heart could burst with it. Connor was so incredible, so amazing, and he was here, he was real, and he was the one making Evan feel this good, this loved. He had fucking missed this, being connected like this, feeling good this way, he had missed it so much and Connor was so wonderful and amazing and he was fucking Evan so perfectly and Evan was utterly overwhelmed. “You’re so beautiful,” Evan gasped, looking at Connor’s flushed cheeks, his long beautiful neck, his arms which Evan turned to kiss when Connor pushed into him harder. “Fuck, you’re so gorgeous. You’re so perfect. Oh my god, Connor,  _ Connor _ , fuck.”

“I love you,” Connor gasped, his fingers grasping until they found Evan’s, their hands tangling together, fingers locked together. “Fuck I love you, you feel amazing, forgot how fucking tight you are, fuck.” 

“I missed this,” Evan said desperately. “Fuck I missed this I missed you so much.” 

“I know,” Connor said. “I love you. I missed you so fucking much. Fuck.” He thrust harder then, his hips at the perfect fucking angle, and Evan was going to fall apart, he was going to absolutely come undone, there was no question in his mind that he was going to dissolve on the spot. “God I love you so much.” 

“I l-love you,” Evan stuttered, his blood pounding hard in his ears, and fuck he loved Connor more than anything. He reached down between them, stroking his leaking cock and fuck he was so close already, he was so fucking close but he didn’t want it to stop, he didn’t want this to ever fucking stop. He mumbled “fuck” as Connor fucked him harder, his eyes closing, his hips snapping more rapidly. “Fuck, Connor, please,” Evan gasped, the words bubbling up from inside him almost without his knowledge. 

“Are you close, love?” Connor asked him, kissing Evan’s neck, his teeth nibbling at Evan’s earlobe. 

“Yes,” Evan said, overwhelmed, utterly overwhelmed. 

“Do you think you can come for me?” Connor asked him. 

“I love you,” Evan gasped. “I love you so much, please Connor, fuck, fuck, please, can I-?”

“You’re so beautiful,” Connor groaned, pushing in harder. “Fuck. Come for me. Just let go, Evan, I’ve got you, you can let go.” 

Evan’s body couldn’t refuse that. With one final stroke of his cock, he was spilling into his hand, crying out Connor’s name, murmuring, “Connor fuck I love you Connor  _ Connor  _ I love you I love you I love you I love you.”

“Fuck,” Connor moaned, his eyes closing, “Fuck, Evan, you’re so fucking amazing fuck fuck Evan,  _ Evan _ .” And his hips snapped harder, desperately, before shuddering to a stop and then he was resting his forehead against Evan’s, his skin warm and pink and a little damp with sweat and Evan’s eyes prickled with tears suddenly as Connor gingerly eased out of Evan. 

“Hey,” Connor said, his eyes big and concerned. “You okay? Fuck, I -”

“I love you,” Evan said, blinking rapidly, horribly embarrassed by the tears that had escaped. “I love you so fucking much and I… I just. I really, really love you and-and you’re amazing and I…I just really fucking missed you?” He looked away, wiping his eyes. “Fuck, sorry, this is really embarrassing… I’m just. A little overwhelmed.” 

Connor kissed him gently. Wiped his tears away. Evan noticed his eyes were shiny with unshed tears of their own. “Okay. It’s okay. I love you.” He pressed a kiss to the top of Evan’s head. “Are you okay?”

Evan nodded, because he was. He was so beyond okay. He was amazing. He was… overwhelmed. He was in love. “I’m great,” He said, smiling. “I’m… you’re wonderful. I am so fucking in love with you.”

Connor smoothed Evan’s hair back off his face. Kissed his cheek. “Give me one sec? I just want to clean up quick. One second, promise.” 

Evan nodded, trying to keep it together, to calm down a little, to gather himself. He just… loved Connor so fucking much. So much he couldn’t contain it. 

Connor returned with a warm washcloth and he gently wiped Evan’s stomach and hips up before settling beside Evan, pulling him in close, and kissing him. “Was that… was that okay?”

Evan laughed, a wet but happy laugh. “Okay? It was… fucking perfect. You are. So fucking amazing. I love you so much.”

“I love you too,” Connor said, pulling Evan in tighter. He kissed Evan’s head, sighing contentedly. “I’m keeping you, okay?”

“Okay,” Evan said softly, desperately hoping he meant it, that he would keep meaning it, because it was all he wanted. “I’m gonna… hold you to that.”

Connor laughed softly, his breath warm against Evan’s skin. He shifted slightly, grabbing the blankets they had abandoned and pulling them up. Evan turned, snuggling closer to Connor, his head buried in the crook of Connor’s neck. He sighed. 

“Was that… that was okay?” Connor asked tentatively. “You’re sure because… you like cried and I-“

Evan smiled against Connor’s soft skin. “That was… incredible. Fucking hell, you are amazing.” He kissed Connor’s neck. His collarbone. His jaw. “Was it… was it okay? For you?”

Connor laughed. “Are you kidding? That was… fucking hell. That was. Kind of. Perfect?”

Evan smiled, pulling Connor in tighter. “I just. I really love you, okay?”

Connor kissed the top of his head. “I really love you too.”

Evan wound his arms tighter around Connor, breathing him in, taking it all in. They were here. This was real. Connor loved Evan. Evan loved Connor. And they’d just had sex for the first time in over a year. It had been a little awkward and fumbling at first but… so fucking amazing. Perfect. “I love you,” Evan said, his eyes slipping closed because he was warm and safe and content and exhausted. “I love you I love you I love you so much and I’m… I’m not gonna ever stop, okay?”

“Okay,” Connor said, his voice muzzy, like he was fading too. He pulled Evan to him tighter. “I love you.”

Evan resisted but he felt himself drifting off, safe and warm in Connor’s arms. 


	176. EPILOGUE: PART TWO

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> “Maybe you idiots _are_ meant to be."

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Hi... sorry for the extremely long wait! No promises when you'll get the next bit, but we are working on it! 
> 
> As a reminder, this fic is explicit. That means there will be explicit sex scenes. Please be advised. :)

The idea occurred while Evan was at Andi’s apartment because she had sent him a text that just said,  _ “Pineapple upside down cake 5:30.” _

When Evan had texted her back, Andi hadn’t responded, so he gave up and called. “Aren’t you coming over tonight? I swear I texted to say I was in a baking mood. I also made macarons.” 

Evan smiled. “Okay. Should I bring anything?”

“Any chance you could bring mayonnaise?” 

“Mayonnaise?” Evan repeated, amused. 

“For grilled cheese. It’s the secret to making them the best.” 

“Yeah, I’ll pick some up,” Evan said. 

So he brought a jar of mayo over to Andi’s that evening. She (naturally) answered the door topless, and pulled Evan into a huge hug. “You look great,” She said, patting his cheek gently. 

“So do you,” Evan said, trying to make sure he was looking her in the face. She had bounced back insanely fast after the birth of the twins. “How are you feeling?”

“Oh, you know, still a little sad not to be pregnant anymore,” Andi said, patting her tummy with a frown. “But my friend Mo and his husband have been trying to find a surrogate, so I might be able to make another person pretty soon.”

Andi made them grilled cheese on homemade bread and tomato soup. 

“So how are things with Connor?” Andi asked him, wiping a drop of soup up that had landed on her boob somehow. 

“Good,” Evan said, his face breaking into a slow smile. “Uh. Really, really good? I just… I’m really happy.”

“I am so glad to hear that, babe,” Andi said grinning. 

Evan felt himself smiling back. “I just… I really love him?”

Andi smiled so hard and launched herself across the table to grab Evan into a bone crushing hug. “I am just… so glad you two figured it out.”

“Thanks Andi,” Evan said, gently patting her back. The front of his shirt felt wet suddenly. “Are you… crying?”

“No,” Andi said, even though her eyes were totally glassy. “It’s just. When I get emotional, sometimes I lactate?”

Evan looked down to discover that, yes, he did in fact have breast milk on his shirt. He pulled her back into a tight hug because it sort of felt like she needed it. “Just to be clear,” Evan said after a moment. “You didn’t make any of the food with breastmilk… right?”

Andi laughed. “No, no, I save that up to give to baby Zeb and baby Dinah. Why, did you want some? I might have some extra in the fridge.”

“I…” Evan said, laughing a little. Andi was just… so Andi. “No thanks. I’m good.”

Andi wiped her eyes and hugged Evan again. She headed into her bedroom, returning with a new shirt for him to wear and a breast pump. Evan insisted she relax while she pumped, and he cut them each slices of the pineapple upside down cake she had made. 

“Don’t forget to take a macaron,” She said. 

“You want one?” Evan asked, taking a bite out of his while he grabbed them forks. 

“Better wait until I finish pumping so the kiddos don’t get stoned.”

Evan had just swallowed his bite of the macaron. He almost laughed. “There’s weed in these?”

“In the frosting, yeah, why?”

Evan normally might have freaked out because he did not fuck with weed. But honestly, this just seemed pretty par for the course at this point. He didn’t have any history with abusing marijuana and he’d only eaten the one cookie. 

Besides, Oliver kept telling him he didn’t have to be quite so strict with what he allowed himself to do. 

So. 

One weed macaron wasn’t going to kill him. Probably. A lot of weird shit had killed him before. 

Andi’s cake was unbelievably good. The pair of them ended up eating two slices a piece, sitting and chatting. Evan realized that was, in fact, a bit stoned after a while because he was sort of… rambling about how much he loved Connor. 

“He’s just… He’s so amazing, Andi. Like. He is genuinely better than. Most things. Everything. And I. I dunno. Like. I want to like, do something nice for him? He’s kind of been, like, the steadiest and kindest person and… I really don’t deserve it. I just. I was a huge dickhead and… I just feel like. He deserves something kind of special.”

“You could throw him a birthday party?” Andi suggested. “But that’s not until February.”

Evan nodded sadly. “Also I’ve like. Ruined two of his birthdays the last three years so… I dunno how well that would be received.”

Andi smacked Evan hard in the arm, “Oh my god, babe, Connor’s  _ half  _ birthday. It’s at the end of the month. We could, like, have a little party!”

Evan smiled broadly. “Oh my god, you… Andi you are fucking brilliant.” But then the elation began to fade, just a little. “Nobody will come if I’m planning the party,” He said a bit sadly. “Because… pretty much everyone Connor loves hates me. Present company excluded.”

“That’s not true.”

“Fine,” Evan sighed. “Zoe and Jax hate me, and Maureen tolerates me, and Leslie probably doesn’t hate me but that might just be because Camille has that tongue ring so she’s, like, constantly basking in post-coital bliss.”

Andi’s eyebrows went up. “Are they monogamous?”

Evan rolled his eyes, “I am not helping you to set up a threesome right now.”

“Spoilsport,” Andi said, poking Evan in the side. He giggled. “Okay, tell you what. I will send the invites and we’ll talk to the bookstore kids together, eh? We’ll get all of Connor’s A-list people. Zoe. Andre. Dave and Mikhail. Otis and the bookstore kids… And ooh, it could be a surprise!”

Evan wasn’t totally sold on that. “He might hate that.”

“Or, he might think that it’s super adorable and great,” Andi said. “You two could like. Have the day together. And then you bring him back and there’s, like, a party.”

Evan bit his lip because the last time Andi had thrown Connor a party, he had died twenty times. “Like… a party-party, or like, ‘there is some alcohol and also a cheese plate and there are maybe twenty people here tops?’”

“B, definitely B,” Andi said. “I will admit that Connor is an option B kinda person. Okay, this is perfect, I’m so excited. I’ll make more macarons!”

Andi ate three weed macarons herself and then insisted, for some reason, that they watch a few segments from Mr. Rogers’ Neighborhood starring Daniel Tiger and Lady Aberline. Andi was just… kind of wonderful. She just… It wasn’t that she babied Evan. She was just pretty gentle with him, which Evan appreciated a lot. And Andi still treated him like he was a person. She didn’t act like he was an irredeemable asshole. She didn’t act like he might fall apart. She just… was exactly the same as she always was toward Evan. Maybe a little more affectionate, but Evan supposed that might be because he was more affectionate with her. 

Andi sent Evan home with a few more weed macarons for Connor (as well as a quarter of the pineapple upside down cake), and when Evan texted to ask if Connor was around for him to drop them off, he said he was just getting in from a meeting with an author at Leatherbird and Evan should stop by. 

It was weird, Evan thought to himself, to think that their conversations hadn’t really changed all that much when they were broken up to now, but they landed a lot differently. Because subtext was important. 

Language was weird. 

“Hey,” Connor said in greeting when he opened the front door of the bookstore to let Evan in. He leaned in and kissed him. “How was dinner with Andi?”

“Good,” Evan said, smiling and following Connor inside. “She made me take cake for you too.”

“That actually sounds awesome,” Connor said, taking the container out of Evan’s hands. He rearmed the alarm and headed back up the steps, Evan following closely behind. “I like that the two of you hang out now.”

“She’s great,” Evan said with a loose sort of shrug. “I kinda just… fucking adore her? Like don’t get me wrong, she is  _ super _ weird, like… but in an awesome way. But like. If it was the 1600s, I would be extremely concerned about her being tried for witchcraft. However, it is not the 1600s and I think she’s fantastic.” Evan took a breath. “Did you know that pretty much everyone executed at the Salem Witch Trials were hanged? Except Giles Corey, he was pressed to death. But nobody was ever burned at the stake in America for witchcraft.”

Connor looked at Evan, an amused smile on his face. 

“Also I’m a little stoned. Sorry,” Evan said, his cheeks heating up. “But don’t worry, I have no bad history with pot and also I only had the one macaron so… You’re laughing.”

“You got stoned and came over to tell me about the Salem Witch Trials,” Connor said, giggling. “You are fucking adorable.”

“Am not,” Evan said, standing up and wrapping Connor in a hug. “I’m just… weird. Socially inept. I memorized fun facts. Or whatever. Shut up, I love you.”

Connor kissed the side of his head. “I love you too,” He said. “I know you don’t normally fuck with weed…” 

He trailed off, the question unspoken but still clear: Unless that changed when Evan was off being a full-time crazy person.

It hadn’t.

He had been more interested in uppers and booze. Great combination there. 

“I don’t,” Evan said. “But I’m okay. Kinda thirsty and I’m not like, you know, not paranoid. But no more than normal.” He frowned. “Unless I’m being super weird?”

Connor shook his head, kissing Evan’s cheek. “No. You’re okay.” 

“Probably because you’re here,” Evan said in what he hoped was a reasonable voice. “You always make me feel safe.”

Connor looked at Evan for a long moment. 

“Is that weird to say?” Evan asked quietly. “Shit. I’m sorry I…”

“I love you,” Connor said. “I’m glad you feel safe.”

“I love you too,” Evan said, kissing his cheek. 

“What are you wearing by the way?” Connor asked, pulling on the fabric of the shirt Andi had let Evan borrow (which was deep red with a screen printed black and white photo of a person with a sunflower blocking their face and the words COPING SKILLS written across the chest). 

“Oh, Andi accidentally lactated on me,” Evan said. “So she lent me a shirt to wear home.”

Connor looked like he really wanted to laugh but he was trying not to, so his face was pink and he was biting his lip, and Evan kissed him because he just loved him so much.

* * *

It’s a weird feeling, being back together with Evan. Not in a bad way, just… familiar and foreign, all at once, because things are different after so much time spent apart from each other. 

At first, it’s a bit like a dream. An  _ amazing  _ dream, but a dream, because it doesn’t quite feel real. And then somehow it starts to feel too good to be true and Connor finds himself doing things like pinching himself, literally pinching himself, to make sure he’s awake. To make sure this is actually happening. 

That he and Evan have somehow, despite everything, found their way back to each other. 

They’re different to how they were, both of them. They’re both thinner than they should be, for one thing. They’re both still healing from damage.

And Connor feels like he’s… waiting for something. 

He can’t shake the feeling that he’s waiting for something. 

It’s unsettling and strange, like the moment just before you fall in a dream, except that it keeps on going, it persists and doesn’t stop, and it leaves him feeling like there’s something about to happen but he doesn’t know what the fuck it is. 

The week after he and Evan get back together, he sees Praveed and tries to explain this weird, unsettling feeling he can’t get rid of. Praveed listens attentively, then tilts his head and looks Connor straight in the eye. 

“Do you think it’s possible that you’re waiting for something to go wrong?”

It clicks into place. 

That’s exactly what this is.

“Yeah,” he says, his throat dry. “Fuck. I’m… fuck.” He feels his heart start to speed up. “What if… what if Evan changes his mind? What if he leaves again?”

Praveed just looks at him, something sympathetic in his expression. “You can’t control what Evan does,” he says, ever so gently. “It’s possible. I don’t think it’s likely, but it is possible.”

“I didn’t see it coming last time,” Connor admits, feeling almost sick at his own words. “I didn’t see it coming and it… fuck, I nearly let it… I nearly let it destroy me. I don’t know what I’d do if he left again, I don’t… I don’t know if I’d survive it.”

Praveed blinks. “Do you think that’s true?” he says, his voice still gentle. 

Connor considers. 

Stops and thinks back at the past year, at everything he went through. 

“I…” 

He bites his lip. 

Shrugs. 

“I’d survive it,” he says quietly. “If Evan left again, I would survive it, I know I would. I survived it before. I just… I don’t want to go through that again. That kind of pain.”

“That’s the risk we take,” Praveed says, smiling sympathetically. “Do you think it’s worth the risk?”

“Yes,” Connor says, without even thinking about it. “Yes, of course it’s worth it.” Connor runs his hand through his hair absently. Cracks his knuckles. Doesn’t look at Praveed for a long moment, just… considers. “Evan is the only person I have ever loved. He’s… he’s my best friend and the love of my life and just… I am so fucking in love with him and I don’t want to lose him again. The idea of losing him again after everything just… terrifies me.” 

“That makes sense,” says Praveed. Connor finally looks up at him to see his therapist nodding. “It makes sense that given your history, you’d be worried Evan might leave again. But I think it’s worth remembering that what happened last year was… pretty fucking awful, dude. Some really heavy shit that definitely took a toll on both of you.” Praveed pauses, then continues, leaning in a little. “Look, from our discussions, I know that Evan’s been working really hard on managing his BPD. When he left, he was undiagnosed and he ended up in pretty bad shape. You also mentioned before the two of you decided to give things another shot that he said he regretted leaving, that walking out on you was a mistake.”

“After I got out of a coma,” Connor feels compelled to point out. “He feels bad because he left pretty much right after I got out of a coma. That’s… kind of a dick move in anyone’s book. And why, like, a whole bunch of my friends and family still kinda hate him. It’s not about leaving, it’s about  _ when  _ he left.”

Praveed looks at him intently. “Do you really believe that?”

Connor thinks back to the night of the bookstore party. 

_ “I never stopped loving you. I was stupid and selfish when I left, but I didn’t stop loving you.” _

He closes his eyes. 

It’s quiet for what feels like forever. 

“I don’t know,” he confesses quietly.

When he opens his eyes and looks at Praveed, Praveed looks genuinely sad. “This is rough, dude. I’m not gonna lie. It’s hard to get trust back when it’s been broken, you know? But I’d encourage you to maybe question some of these thoughts. Sit with them and figure them out. Is it what you really believe or is it based on fear?”

“Okay,” Connor says, nodding. He bites his lip again. “I just… what do I do? How do I stop waiting for things to go wrong?” He shrugs a little helplessly. “I mean… if I’m just sitting here waiting for things to go wrong, of  _ course  _ they’re going to go fucking wrong,  _ Jesus. _ But I don’t… I don’t know how to turn that off.”

* * *

True to her word, Andi was exceptionally helpful in organizing everything to put together a surprise half-birthday party for Connor. Leslie in particular seemed very tickled by the idea, and together she and Andi seemed to have moved Zoe to agree to come despite the fact that Evan was the one planning the event. And Andi and Jax had talked, and Jax was shockingly on board and even helped them or organize the catering and a few other important details. 

Progress. 

Andi outright refused to let Evan order a cake from a bakery, instead insisting she would make the cake herself and Evan made a mental note to be sure to check if the frosting had weed in it before he partook in any. 

Evan naturally had spent ages trying to come up with a gift to give Connor. He knew that presents on half-birthdays were not a tradition most people participated in, but since Evan had 1. Not gotten Connor a gift for his thirtieth and 2. Had also attempted to kill himself on that day, he was really hoping to come up with something that made for a decent present. Something Connor would actually like and wouldn’t just get for himself because he had millions of dollars just sitting untouched in his bank account. 

The thought actually occurred to Evan when he and his boss Natasha met with a few representatives from the city council and Evan bumped into Alana Beck. 

“Evan! Wow it’s so wonderful to see you, I was so surprised to hear you had moved to nonprofit work, I do hope you are doing better these days Marisol heard from your old roommate Mattie that you were quite ill this winter -”

Evan nodded at her. “Yes, thanks. I’m doing a lot better. How are you?”

“Swamped,” Alana said with a slightly awkward smile. She rattled off at least twenty different projects she was involved with, dropped in the fact that she and Marisol were thinking about getting married, and then finished with, “And I’m trying to find somewhere within my district that played a significant role in LGBT history because one of my campaign promises was more mainstream recognition of LGBT historic landmarks.”

Evan felt a little like he had been zapped. “I might have a place for you.” 

That night Connor came over to Evan’s apartment, which Evan thought was mostly just perfunctory since they both knew they would rather be at Connor’s place above the bookstore. But they were in this weird place where their relationship was new and well established at once and so the rules were… muddled. 

So. 

Thai food at Evan’s apartment. Hidden away in his bedroom while Cody and Alice loudly played techno music which Evan had come to know meant they were having sex. 

Connor raised his eyebrows as the music reached a crescendo that did not cover the sound of the headboard banging against the wall. 

“Yeah, okay, this is stupid,” Evan said, shaking his head. “You want to go?”

“We could go to my place,” Connor said, smiling sort of awkwardly. “I feel like we’re always at my place… but.”   


“Mine sucks,” Evan said, laughing a little. “Yeah, let’s go.” He winced when he heard Alice and Cody’s headboard banging hard and rhythmically against the wall even louder. 

“Want to stay over?” Connor asked, his cheeks pink. “At least then you might get some sleep?”

“I love you,” Evan said, relieved, kissing Connor’s cheek. “So much.”

On the walk to Connor’s apartment in the warm evening air, Evan asked, trying to sound casual, “So what are you doing next Friday?”

Connor blinked. “Uh. I dunno. Probably some admin work?”

Evan nodded. Still trying to keep a casual tone, he said, “My boss is sort of on me about taking some personal time? I have a lot of personal days now.” He bit his lip for a moment. “Would you maybe want to, like, do something during the day?”

Connor looked at Evan suspiciously. “Is everything okay?”

Evan tried to smile, to laugh it off. “Oh yeah. I just know myself too well. If I don’t make plans for that day, I’ll spend most of it on my laptop trying to covertly answer emails. I’m terrible at doing nothing, you know?” 

Connor gave him a slightly pinched smile. “You’re asking me to, what, hold you accountable for actually taking the day off?”

Evan felt his cheeks heat up. “When you put it that way, it sounds less charming and more… horribly dorky.”

Connor laughed at him, this happy little laugh. “I don’t know how to break this to you Evan, but… You sort of are horribly dorky.”

Evan felt his cheeks heat up more but he smiled at Connor. “I mean. I know.” 

“I can do that,” Connor said thoughtfully. “Have anything in mind?”

Evan smiled at Connor a little slyly. “A few things come to mind.”

“Oh?” Connor said, his voice a parody of innocence. “Finally thinking of taking a cooking class?”

Evan couldn’t help it, he grabbed Connor’s arm and pulled him in for a kiss right there on the damn street. “You are such an ass,” He mumbled when they pulled apart. “I love you so much.”

“You also love my ass,” Connor said cockily as they headed into the bookstore which, to Evan’s mortification, had three customers and Leslie milling around. 

“Well, yes,” He admittedly a little begrudgingly, his face hot. “Hey Leslie.”

“Hey you two,” She said with a friendly wave. She winked at Evan as he followed Connor up the stairs. 

“You just love embarrassing me in front of people,” Evan said with a mostly fake pout. 

“You bet I do,” Connor said with a little teasing smile. He pulled Evan in for a kiss. “So… now that we can’t hear your roommates’ techno fucking….?” He raised his eyebrows. 

Evan wasn’t ashamed to admit he got on his knees right there in the entryway and blew Connor. He couldn’t help it. He wanted to make him feel good so badly that it was all he could focus on doing.

* * *

Connor’s trying really hard to deal with the feeling that everything’s about to go wrong. 

He really is, because he wants things to work out with Evan. Wants it more than he could possibly express or explain, wants it more than is probably healthy. It might be the only thing he’s ever wanted this much. 

He has no interest in making the fear he’s carrying around into some kind of self-fulfilling prophecy, so he’s really fucking trying. Trying to trust Evan, trust that he means what he says, that he loves Connor and isn’t going anywhere. 

It’s just…

There’s something not right. 

Something doesn’t feel right. It feels like Evan’s hiding something and Connor can’t figure out if it’s just the fear talking or if there’s actually reason to be worried. 

Thanks to Evan’s roommates inconsiderately fucking to techno music, Connor gets to wake up next to Evan the next morning, which is one of his favorite things in the world. There’s just something about having Evan next to him, pressed up against him, warming him through, that makes Connor feel safe and loved and like everything’s alright. 

Evan’s breath is warm against Connor’s neck. Connor feels heat run all the way through him as Evan presses a kiss to his collarbone. 

Then another. And another. Soft kisses that get deeper, that climb up Connor’s neck, to his jaw, then finally settle on his lips. 

Fuck. 

The minute Evan’s lips are on his, Connor’s kissing him like a drowning man, like his life depends on it, and Evan melts against him, his body pressed up against his, and Connor can feel him getting hard and fuck, fuck, fuck, he’s missed this, he’s missed this so fucking much. 

“I love you,” Connor says. Gasps. The words fall out of his mouth unbidden, like they’ve been sitting there for months, like every _ ‘I love you’ _ he’s held back has been waiting patiently to escape the moment it was safe. “I love you I love you I love you.”

“I love you,” Evan replies, and he sounds like he means it. 

God, Connor hopes that he means it. 

Evan grabs Connor’s hips and pulls him closer, his other hand climbing up Connor’s torso, tracing lines on his stomach, lines that cross over his scars, that send shivers through his entire body. He kisses him fiercely, passionately, like there’s nothing else he wants to be doing, and Connor loves him so fucking much, has missed him so fucking much, wants him to stay so, so, so fucking much. 

“I love you,” Evan says again, something desperate in his voice, more urgent, and Connor knows, deep in his bones, that he’s telling the truth. 

“I love you so much,” Connor gasps as Evan kisses his way down Connor’s body, hooking his fingers over the edge of Connor’s boxers. Barely seconds later, Evan’s mouth is on his dick, surrounding him in warm, wet heat that’s fucking perfect, the most fucking perfect thing in the whole fucking world. “Fuck, your mouth, holy shit Evan, I love you so fucking much.”

Evan looks up at him, his eyes brimming with something Connor can’t describe, but doesn’t let up, swirling his tongue over the top of Connor’s cock, touching and licking and sucking and Connor arches his back, leans against the pillow and closes his eyes, he’s not going to last much longer and no doubt Evan’s going to pull away and tease him, draw it out, make Connor beg for it, fuck. 

“Please-” Connor begins, and Evan doesn’t let up, and Connor feels himself fall over the edge, completely unexpectedly, completely without warning, and it’s the most fucking amazing thing, it’s so completely amazing, he can’t lose this he can’t he can’t he can’t.

Connor doesn’t realize he’s shaking until Evan’s all of a sudden next to him, head on the pillow beside him, pulling him close. “Hey,” Evan says, his eyes concerned. “You’re shaking.”

“I’m okay,” Connor manages to say, trying to look like he’s not completely overwhelmed. “I love you so fucking much?”

“I love you, too,” says Evan, and his grip on Connor gets even tighter. “I love you so, so fucking much. More than anything.”

“Don’t go,” Connor blurts out, holding onto Evan tighter. “Please don’t go. Okay?”

He hates himself for saying it out loud, hates himself for sounding so desperate, hates himself for begging, because all of a sudden it’s a year ago and they’re sitting at a kitchen table and Evan’s eyes are dull and Connor is begging Evan not to leave and Evan is leaving. 

_ “I’m sorry, I’m sorry, I’m so fucking sorry please just don’t go just don’t please  _ please  _ I love you I love you. I love you please. Please we can… we can fix this, can’t we? Just  _ please  _ don’t-” _

“I’m not going anywhere,” Evan says, his voice firm. “I’m not, I swear.”

“Okay,” says Connor, nodding, trying to get his heart rate back under control. “Okay.”

Connor’s got to get out of his head about this. 

Evan’s not going anywhere. He said he wasn’t going anywhere, and Connor needs to trust him. Needs to trust that this is real, this is really happening, to let himself be happy. 

It’s a busy day, given that it’s a Wednesday, which is Soup Day in winter but Curry Day in summer. There’s nowhere near as big a crowd as there is in winter, but there are still regulars who’ll come along for a cheap meal and take advantage of the air conditioning and the water filter. About halfway through serving, Connor realizes that the rice cooker isn’t working anymore. 

He bought a new one, he remembers. It’s in the spare room. 

He heads upstairs to get it and finds himself face to face with Evan’s dresser. 

The dresser he and Evan picked out together a year and a half ago. 

The dresser Zoe and Jax helped him move into the spare room after Evan left. 

Connor stares for a long moment. 

Should he put it back in his room?

Does Evan want that?

How does he even ask?

Connor eventually heads back downstairs with the new rice cooker, but he can’t get the idea of moving the dresser out of his head. Once everyone clears out and Curry Day is over, Connor puts everything back where it lives and heads back to the spare room to stare at the dresser, considering. 

He could just move it back. 

He could. 

It’s like a leap of faith. A tangible sign that Connor’s in, that Connor wants this all back, wants all of this back. 

His bedroom feels wrong without it, anyway. 

Okay. 

He can do this. 

Connor pulls the dresser out from against the wall, then maneuvers it so he can slide it across the carpet, out the door of the spare room and around the corner into his bedroom. It’s a surprisingly simple process to get the dresser exactly where it used to be. 

Like nothing had changed. 

Is that too presumptuous, though? Is it wrong for him to act like nothing had changed? Is putting the dresser back like erasing the last year?

Connor shakes his head. 

Of course not. 

Nothing can erase the last year. 

He looks at the dresser for a moment, this awful, tight feeling in his chest. 

With shaking hands, he pulls it out again, then slides it back through the doors and into the spare room, where it’s been since Zoe and Jax moved it last August. 

Connor sits on the spare bed. Runs his hands across the blanket Martha made. Admires the work that must have gone into it, the love and care. 

It was supposed to be for the two of them. 

For he and Evan. For their future. 

The future Connor thought they’d never have. The future he thought they’d lost. 

The future they haven’t lost, because Evan loves him. 

Evan  _ loves  _ him. 

Connor pulls the dresser out of its place again, then slides it back through the doors and back into where it’s supposed to be in his bedroom. 

Stares at it for a while, then heads out of the room and into the kitchen, leaving the dresser where it is. 

Where it belongs. 

There’s a recipe for quesadillas he wants to try. If he makes them with beans instead of chicken, they’ll be kosher. Connor pulls his phone out of his pocket and flicks Evan a text. 

**Want to come over for dinner? I’m making quesadillas**

**Well, I’m going to try this new recipe and hope for the best**

**They’re kosher, don’t worry**

He puts his phone on the counter, then starts pulling out ingredients so he can start cooking. Maybe twenty minutes later, his phone buzzes and he looks at the screen to see there’s a message from Evan. 

**Sorry, I can’t tonight :( another time?**

Connor tries to ignore the cold feeling that goes through him. He sends a text back. 

**Everything okay?**

There’s a reply almost immediately. 

**Everything’s fine, I’ve just got a thing. Enjoy your quesadillas!**

Then there’s a follow up text. 

**I love you**

Connor feels the cold feeling moving further through him. His hands shake a little as he replies. 

**I love you, too**

Connor puts his phone down, then tries to focus back on cooking, to no avail. He eventually gives up, puts everything in the fridge then orders a pizza, too tired to care. 

He eats three slices then puts the rest in the fridge. 

Stares at his phone for a long while. 

Then goes back into his bedroom, pulls the dresser away from the wall and once again slides it into the spare room. 

* * *

The morning of Connor’s half birthday, Evan woke up in Connor’s bed as the sun was just coming up. His brain immediately went “too early” and he started to close his eyes again when he realized Connor was not curled up beside him but instead sitting up in bed, frowning with a book in his hands. He clearly wasn’t actually focused on the book though, because he was looking across the room absently. When he frowned he got a line between his eyebrows. Evan wanted to kiss it. Edgar was curled around Connor’s shoulders like a living fur wrap, purring. 

Well that was not acceptable in Evan’s mind. 

“What are you doing up?” He asked Connor, moving to sit up. His voice was scratchy still. 

Connor looked embarrassed. Caught. “I… Fuck.”

“Can’t sleep?” Evan asked. 

Connor sighed. “Look, is… Is something going on?”

Evan blinked in surprise. He wasn’t quite awake yet. “What?”

“You’ve been a little, I dunno. Weird? Skittish and… the other day when I invited you over for dinner you said you had a thing and didn’t tell me what it was and… Is everything okay?”

The other day Evan had been with Andi, buying some silly half birthday party decorations and picking out a gift from her for Connor. She was insistent that she buy him a book but admitted she wasn’t much of a reader, so she and Evan had spent several hours browsing at a used bookstore looking for something they could agree he would like. It took a bit of persuading for Evan to convince Andi not to buy Connor a collection of Kafka works. 

“Connor, I am so sorry,” Evan said softly, reaching out and taking his hand. “I’ve just been a little busy and distracted but I’m sorry.”

“I just… if we’re going too fast or you’re not sure about -”

Evan kissed him softly. “No,  _ god no _ , that’s not. That’s not at all what it is,” He said. “I love you. I am staying right here and you’re not scaring me away okay? I…” he didn’t want to ruin the surprise party, but he figured he ought to give Connor  _ something  _ or he would just keep freaking out. “I just. Today’s your half birthday.”

Connor blinked, his face going pale. “Oh. Fuck I didn’t realize, are you okay -” He reached for Evan’s hand, startling Edgar who took off running out of the room. 

“I’m fine,” Evan said trying to be reassuring, trying to smile. “I’m  _ totally _ fine. That’s not - I’ve just been busy and distracted because, like, I wanted to do something  _ nice _ for you today? Since I wrecked your actual birthday. I was just trying to, like, plan something that might be fun and I didn’t want to tell you about it because I wanted to surprise you and now I see that I fucked up and I’m so sorry.”

Connor stared at him. “What? You… What?”

“I wasn’t trying to be, like, distant or distracted or whatever. I was just trying to take some time to plan out a nice day for you? And I’m so sorry, fuck, I really didn’t even think it might - I’m sorry -.” 

“You… you made plans for us today?” Connor said in a sort of small voice.

Evan nodded. “Yeah.” He shrugged. “It’s dumb, forget it, I -”

“You made plans for us today,” Connor repeated, a small smile on his face. “And you wanted to surprise me. Because it’s my half birthday?” He sounded a little disbelieving.

“Well… Yeah. Obviously. I mean. I love you and wanted to, like, give you a good day? Give us a good day to try to make up for me ruining your birthday. A couple of times.” He shrugged sheepishly. “I love you. So much. And I hate that your birthday is… such a thing. That you don’t get to enjoy it? But we don’t have to do anything, and I am so sorry that I scared you or worried you. Really. I didn’t mean to freak you out. I clearly fucked up. I just… sort of wanted to surprise you?”

Connor looked thoughtful. “Well… it’s my half birthday now,” He said, sounding a little impatient. “What’s the plan?”

“It’s dumb,” Evan said, his cheeks heating up. “It’s super fucking dumb -”

Connor kissed him to stop him from talking. He kissed him like he was starving, like he needed it, his lips lingering for a long time and when he broke away they were both panting. He looked so fucking relieved and Evan hated that he had stressed Connor out. He hated it so much. He loved Connor so much. “So. What’s the plan?”  
Evan smiled a little bashfully. “Well. I thought maybe I might try to seduce you.”

Connor grinned. “Oh yeah?”

“Yeah,” Evan said. “And after I’d done that, I was thinking maybe I’d take you to breakfast?”

“Uh huh,” Connor said, his eyes bright and teasing. He pulled his shirt over his head and kissed Evan again, deeper this time, a heated, burning kiss that left Evan breathless and desperately hard. “And then what?” Connor asked, kissing Evan’s neck. 

“I think I said I was going to be seducing you,” Evan complained, mostly joking. “Not the other way around.” 

Connor laughed softly, placing a kiss on Evan’s cheek. 

“I thought maybe we could go exploring? See some parts of New York that we don’t normally spend a lot of time in?” Evan said when he and Connor broke apart again. “And just… spend the day together?” 

“I love you,” Connor said, kissing Evan again. 

“I love you too,” Evan groaned, grabbing Connor around the middle and pressing him back against the mattress. “Now I believe I said I’d be seducing you,” Evan said, kissing Connor’s neck. “And I fully intend to make good on that promise.”

“Fuck,” Connor breathed.

“Sound alright to you?” Evan asked, nipping lightly at Connor’s collarbone. 

“Yes please,” Connor said, his voice ragged. 

Evan smiled. He continued pressing kisses down Connor’s neck and over his collarbone, his hands gently touching Connor’s chest and shoulders and stomach and hips, his fingertips disappearing ever so slightly into the waistband of Connor’s sweats. “Fuck you’re so beautiful,” Evan said softly, kissing Connor’s lips again. “I love you.” 

“I love you too,” Connor said, his cheeks flushed, his pupils huge. “I love you so much.” 

Evan kissed Connor’s neck, dragging hot kisses up to the shell of his ear, to his jaw, to his lips, and Connor was holding onto him to tightly, his fingers gripping the back of Evan’s hair and Evan sighed into Connor’s mouth as he grabbed even harder when Evan bit Connor’s lip. Evan broke away, panting, to kiss Connor’s neck again and make him writhe. “Wanna make you feel good,” he said, his voice ragged. “Can I touch you please?”

Connor nodded, consenting, and Evan smiled. His hands trailed lightly over Connor’s hips, over the swell of his hard cock under his thin sweats, and Evan was so fucking turned on by the sight of a small wet spot had formed at the tip of Connor’s erection. Fuck he was beautiful like this. “I love you,” Evan said, kissing his way down Connor’s body, his lips traveling over the scars on Connor’s abdomen before he mouthed gently at Connor’s cock through his sweats. Connor swore, his hips jerking, and Evan smiled to himself. 

And then Connor was pulling Evan up for a kiss, practically ripping off his t-shirt and kissing Evan hard, his hands roaming Evan’s chest and his breathing hot and irregular. “Fuck,” Connor said. 

“I want to blow you,” Evan said softly. “Can I please? Please?” 

Connor nodded and Evan made quick work of pulling off Connor’s sweatpants, freeing his hard cock and immediately taking it into his hand, stroking him gently. Connor groaned and Evan immediately took Connor into his mouth, greedily sucking the tip of his cock before taking more of him. 

“Holy fuck,” Connor gasped as Evan swirled his tongue over the crown. Connor’s fingers curled in Evan’s hair, not tugging or guiding so much as just hanging on, like he needed to anchor himself. Evan looked up and met Connor’s eyes briefly before breathed deeply through his nose and swallowed Connor down. Connor’s eyes went huge and he gasped, his hips jerking as Evan continued to blow him, his eyes watering a little at the feeling of having all of Connor in his mouth. Mostly, Evan was feeling a little triumphant in the face of his recently defeated gag reflex and wildly turned on by the noises Connor was making as Evan kept blowing him. 

“Wait,” Connor groaned, and Evan could feel his legs were starting to tremble, he could tell from the change in Connor’s breathing that he was getting close. “Wait, hang on,” Connor said and Evan pulled back immediately, his lips slipping off of Connor with a slick pop. 

“You okay?” Evan asked, his voice raw. 

“I just,” Connor panted, his hands in his own hair. “I don’t… I don’t want to come yet.”

“Oh?” Evan said, not following, because he was perfectly content to make Connor come again later if he was interested. 

“Yeah I…” Connor looked at Evan with these blazing eyes, “I… Can you fuck me? Please?” 

Evan felt like his heart might have given out for a moment. 

Connor pulled Evan in for a filthy kiss, their tongues colliding wetly, and Connor pressed himself against Evan, his naked body flushed and warm and beautiful against Evan. “It’s been… way too fucking long since you’ve been inside me,” Connor said, his voice low and dark with want. 

“Fuck,” Evan gasped, feeling almost lightheaded. “Are you sure because when we talked about it before you were nervous and I -”

“Yes,” Connor said, a little desperate sounding. “Please.” He smiled, sort of cocky, and said, “It’s my half-birthday.”

Evan laughed, kissing Connor again. “You are such a dork fucking hell,” Evan said kissing him all over his face and chin and neck and ears. Then he kissed his way back down to Connor’s hips, his teeth gently grazing Connor’s hip bones which stuck out slightly, and continued down, over his balls to lick him broadly. Connor’s hips jerked and Evan kept going, Connor moaning as Evan licked him again, desperately loving how Connor reacted. 

Evan kept going, eating Connor out, licking him and then fucking Connor’s hole with his tongue. Connor swore and moaned, his fingers returning to Evan’s hair, his lips loose with want, a mantra of “fucking hell Evan Jesus fuck.” Eventually, Evan pulled away, placing a few kisses up Connor’s inner thigh, his mouth briefly brushing the head of his cock, before he fully tore himself away to grab the lube and a condom from Connor’s bedside table. 

“You still sure?” Evan asked him softly, kissing him where his jaw met his neck. Connor tilted his head to give Evan more access, more neck to kiss and caress and bite gently. 

“Yes,” Connor said softly. “Want you. Please.” 

Evan smiled and poured some lube out onto his fingers. He started by gently teasing Connor, fingers rubbing against him while he ran his tongue up the side of Connor’s cock, hoping that the sensation of Evan’s mouth would help keep Connor relaxed. 

Evan pressed a finger inside of Connor slowly, carefully, and Evan could feel how tightly Connor’s body was gripping onto just one finger already. He knew that nobody had fucked Connor in the interim, but there was something about knowing it like this, knowing it like biblically that made Evan’s stomach flip and his insides burn with want. Fuck, Connor was so tight. He started to move his finger slowly, pressing it inside of Connor and pulling it out, Connor whimpering slightly and then, slowly, relaxing into the motion, his hips moving slightly with each thrust of Evan’s fingers. 

“That’s it beautiful,” Evan said, his lips still ghosting over the head of Connor’s cock. “Just relax. I’ve got you.” 

“Fuck Evan,” Connor groaned as Evan added a second finger inside of him, stretching him open wider. Evan’s fingers kept working, reaching and hooking until Connor jerked and swore loudly, and Evan smiled to himself, loving the slack jawed look Connor gave him as he worked his fingers against Connor’s prostate. 

“You look so good like this,” Evan said to him, looking up at Connor, and he did. He really did. His head was thrown back, eyes wild, his legs spread open wide as Evan’s fingers disappeared inside of him, his hard and throbbing cock proudly on display. “I love you.”

“I love you,” Connor hissed as Evan pressed a third finger inside of him. Connor was so fucking tight and the last thing Evan wanted to do was to hurt him. So he was being extra cautious with prepping Connor to be fucked. He suckled the tip of Connor’s cock, adding more lube and fingered Connor’s ass with three fingers until Connor was open and trembling and begging Evan almost desperately to be fucked. 

Evan gently removed his fingers. He kissed Connor, slow and nice and deep, and asked him again if he was sure about this. 

“Yes,” Connor said desperately. “I love you. Please.”

Evan didn’t need to be told twice. He kissed the side of Connor’s head, whispered that he loved Connor too, and then went to work grabbing the condom from the tangle of sheets and stripping out of his pajamas quickly. Evan rolled the condom over himself, then rubbed lube over himself and Connor’s hole again. He kissed Connor slowly, softly, his fingers brushing his hair off of his face. “You ready?” Evan asked him softly. 

Connor nodded. “Please. Please Evan.”

Evan kissed Connor again, long and slow and deep, and then slowly, cautiously, pushed himself inside of Connor. Connor let out a low moan, his eyes slipping closed, and Evan held his hips still despite the overload of pleasure he was feeling, because Connor was so hot and tight and slick and beautiful. It took everything in him to hold still, let Connor adjust and relax to accommodate him, but then Connor was kissing him and begging him to move and Evan couldn’t hold back. He rolled his hips the way Connor had always liked, his thrusts angled up to insure he was always hitting Connor’s prostate, and Connor let out this breathy little “fuck” as Evan did it again. 

It was incredible. Connor’s fingers dug hard into Evan’s skin, his own hips rolling and moving to meet him, and together Evan and Connor found a rhythm. “Fuck, I missed this,” Connor said softly, his hand resting against the back of Evan’s neck, at the place where his hair was shortest and softest. “I missed you.”

“I missed you too, I missed you so much, fuck,” Evan said back, kissing him and adjusting slightly so he could fuck Connor deeper and watch the way his face flashed with pleasure. “God I love you, I love you so much, you look so good like this,  _ fuck  _ Connor  _ fuck _ .”

“Fuck,” Connor echoed, “Fuck, harder, please go harder I -”

Evan kissed him, shifting slightly and pushing in harder, his hand reaching between them to stroke Connor’s cock, jerking him off and fucking him hard and deep and Connor was gasping and moaning and his eyes were huge and dilated and he kissed Evan hard, his voice raw and fucked when he said, “I’m… fuck I’m so close.”

“That’s it love,” Evan said, kissing him again. “Do you want to come?”

“Yes,” Connor’s voice desperate with want. “Please.” 

“Then come for me love,” Evan said still stroking him and fucking him hard, his own orgasm barely contained. “I want to see you come for me.” 

Connor’s eyes closed tight and his mouth dropped open, his hips jerking desperately, and then he was spilling over Evan’s knuckles, his cock twitching in Evan’s hand, his muscles so fucking tight around Evan he feared he might pass out from pleasure and fuck he was so close, and Connor looked so damn blissed out as Evan fucked him through his orgasm, kissing him softly, slowly, gently, until Connor’s hips came to a stop. 

“Fuck, I love you,” Connor slurred and Evan kissed him hard, his balls aching, his body thrumming with the need to finish, and he kissed Connor again and again. “Keep going,” Connor moaned, “Please I want you to feel good please fuck please wanna make you come-” 

And Evan couldn’t say no to that, so he kissed him again and resumed fucking Connor, loving the tight slick slide, knowing he wasn’t going to last long at all, knowing it was a matter of seconds, really, and then Connor kissed Evan’s neck and softly said, “I love you so much,” and that was it, Evan was spent, coming so hard and so immediately that it left him genuinely breathless and weak at the knees. 

“Fuck,” Evan rasped when he finally came back to himself. Connor was looking at him, eyes half lidded, looking so fucking blissed out, and Evan loved it so fucking much. “You’re incredible,” He said softly, kissing Connor’s cheek, tucking a strand of hair behind his ear. “I love you so much.”

“I love you too,” Connor said, his voice soft. “That was… fuck. How do you keep getting better at this?” Connor said with an awkward laugh. 

Evan kissed him hard then, needing Connor to know it was only a desperate need to prove to Connor that he loved him and wanted him to feel good that kept him decent in bed. He kept kissing him, softly, lavishing attention on his neck and jawline and collarbone and slowly, carefully, pulling out of Connor who winced and muttered “fuck” quietly. Evan didn’t move, staying on top of Connor, kissing him more, slower now, less heat to it, just slow lazy kissing until Connor’s eyes looked less unfocused, until Connor sighed contently and kissed Evan’s cheek and pulled him in tightly, so Evan’s face rested in the crook of Connor’s neck, until they were chest to chest and their breathing steadied. 

Eventually, Evan and Connor pulled themselves apart. Evan fetched the washcloth they had used the night before to clean up the mess of lube and semen that was decorating Connor and Evan’s chests and abdomens. When he was done, Evan curled himself around Connor and kissed his cheek. His neck. He gently stroked Connor’s long hair, now damp with sweat, and kissed him again, his shoulder, the nape of his neck, the spot behind his ear that was home to a tattoo of an intricate feather. 

“I love you.”

“I love you too,” Connor said sleepily. “Best half birthday… ever.” 

“And it’s still early,” Evan smiled. “Wanna sleep a little more?”

Connor nodded. “Yeah… you. Wore me out.”

“I love you so much,” Evan said softly. “I’m not going anywhere Connor, I swear. I know I said that before and fucked it all up, but I promise you. I promise. I love you and I’m here to stay. As long as you’ll have me.”

* * *

They sleep a little longer, and wake up intertwined. Wrapped up in each other like vines, like they’d been trying to get as close as they could get in their sleep. Like they’d both been trying to close up any space between them.

Connor loves it. 

He loves it so fucking much. 

Evan looks really, really good like this. Naked in Connor’s bed, his hair tousled from sex, his body warm and soft and alive, gloriously alive, pressed up against Connor. 

Fuck. 

Fuck, he’s missed him so much. 

“Hey,” Evan says softly, his voice thick with sleep. He presses a kiss to Connor’s neck. “I love you.”

Connor leans down to kiss Evan properly. “I love you.”

They stay like that for a while, leisurely kissing and exploring each other. Evan tangles his hands in Connor’s hair and he’s so warm and so alive and Connor loves him so fucking much. 

After a while, Evan pulls away, albeit reluctantly. “As much as I’d love to spend all day in bed with you,” he says, something a little teasing in his voice, “I do actually have things planned.”

Connor’s immediately intrigued. “What kind of things?”

“Things that require both of us to get out of bed,” Evan replies with a grin. “So we gotta get up.” 

“Shower first?” Connor suggests. 

Evan’s eyes darken. He pulls him into a kiss. 

When they make it to the bathroom, turn on the shower and get under the water, Evan drops to his knees and takes Connor in his mouth almost immediately. 

Connor thinks about Evan’s promise to blow him in the shower every day after he got home from the hospital. 

Better late than never, he thinks to himself before Evan moves his fingers to where Connor’s ass is still slick with lube and starts fucking him, causing Connor to completely lose all semblance of rational thought. 

Needless to say, they’re in the shower for a lot longer than strictly necessary. 

Once they’re both showered and dressed, they head out of the apartment. Jax, Maureen and Leslie are all there, and seem to stop their conversation the minute they see Connor. 

Weird, but not exactly uncommon. Connor caught the three of them stopping their conversation like this plenty of times when he first came back to work after his trip back home. He hasn’t seen them do it for a while, though, so it’s a little unusual, but…

Well. He knows they worry. And things with Evan are still new, so it would make sense if they have concerns. 

He knows damn well that Jax still isn’t convinced, but at least they’re slightly more chill with Evan these days. That’s a start. 

“Hey guys,” Leslie says brightly. She grins at them. “Where are you off to?”

“Breakfast,” Evan replies with a grin of his own. “Then I have secret plans.”

“I love secret plans,” Leslie says instantly. There’s something about the way she’s smiling that makes Connor a little suspicious. 

But then Evan takes his hand and squeezes it and he forgets all about any suspicious employee behavior and lets Evan guide him out of The Little Book Nook and a few blocks away to The Diner Where They Didn’t Die. 

They get their usual table. 

It makes Connor smile. He loves that they have a usual table. 

He loves that they’re here together. 

_ Together  _ together. 

Fuck. Fuck, Connor had been so scared that Evan had changed his mind or was pulling away or fuck knows what, and he’d been planning something for Connor’s half-birthday? That’s…

That’s the cutest fucking thing holy fuck. 

Connor just loves him so much. 

So, so much. 

They look at the menus, even though they’ve both got them pretty much memorized by now. Evan looks at Connor and sighs dramatically. 

“Because it is your birthday,” he says, this exaggerated weariness in his tone, “if you want to get scrambled eggs you can get some fucking scrambled eggs.”

“But Evan,” Connor replies immediately, “that would be fiscally irresponsible.”

Evan throws a napkin at him in disgust. Connor bursts out laughing. 

He’s missed him so fucking much.

Connor ends up ordering pancakes with turkey bacon and Evan orders French toast. They hold hands across the table while they’re waiting for their food. Evan rubs his thumb over Connor’s knuckle in slow, soothing circles and it makes something in Connor unwind a little. Soften out. 

It makes some of the fear go away. Some of the fear that this is only temporary. 

That Evan might leave again. 

Connor hates that he’s still afraid. Hates that there’s still a part of him that can’t quite bring himself to fully trust Evan. 

He’s trying, though. 

He’s working on it. 

And that’s important. It’s important he’s not just… giving up. 

He won’t. 

He can’t. 

Connor never really gave up on Evan. Not really. 

He doesn’t think he ever will.

* * *

After breakfast, Evan and Connor headed to the subway to travel to their first stop. It took them two trains, and Connor held Evan’s hand the whole time, their fingers entangled and Evan just. Really fucking loved him. 

Evan hadn’t been to The High Line since before he moved to New York. His first trip had been solo. He had come to New York over Spring Break his final year of undergrad with Sabrina, exploring the city, trying to find a neighborhood they wanted to live in, deciding how they could afford the move to the city. Sabrina had been doing something that day, meeting with a friend or a mentor, Evan couldn’t remember. But he had come to this park alone, walked the whole thing in the weak March sunlight, and it was there when he decided that coming to New York was absolutely what he wanted to do. 

So Evan wanted to take Connor there. To retrace those steps with his partner by his side, to reaffirm that he had made the right choice coming here to stay, even considering all of the bullshit they had gone through. It was warm and sunny, but not overly hot, and Connor was wearing this pair of sunglasses that Evan thought made him look so fucking hot. Evan himself had recently invested in a pair of prescription sunglasses, and Connor kept telling him how fucking cute he thought they were. 

“I’ve never actually been here,” Connor said as they took in the grasses growing over the old train tracks, the buildings tall and imposing all around them. “I’ve lived in New York for over ten years and this is the first time I’ve been here.”

“What do you think?” Evan asked him. 

Connor smiled widely, pulling Evan in for a kiss. “I think it’s… exactly the sort of place you would like. A park above a city. It’s awesome.” 

They kept walking, enjoying the warm sun, their steps meandering and slow. Connor turned to Evan and laughed, saying nobody had ever taken him on a “romantic stroll” before, and that made Evan’s heart leap because truthfully he never really had any idea about how to be romantic. It always seemed like not enough or way over the fucking top cheesy, so it was sort of perfect that Connor was enjoying himself. 

Connor laughed brightly when they stopped to sit for a little while, his fingers gently brushing against the bridge of Evan’s nose, the skin right below his eyes. “You’re so freckly,” He said happily. 

Evan smiled. “Yeah, I get like that.” He grinned harder. “Probably means I need some more sunscreen though.”

Like dutiful adults, both Evan and Connor reapplied some SPF, laughing a little about how the kind Evan had bought specifically boasted it’s “anti-aging” properties. “I think you’re calling me old,” Connor said, teasing, as he rubbed some of the sunscreen onto his arms. 

“Oh yeah, you’re soooo old,” Evan returned. “That month and a half. Oof, can’t believe I’m dating an older man.”

“Fuck off,” Connor said with a smile. 

“Do you think you can keep walking, gramps, or do you need to go have a nap?” Evan went on, teasing. “We could stop off and get you an early bird special for dinner.”

Connor kissed him, laughing happily, and then kissed him again. “It’s like. One in the afternoon. For fuck’s sake.” His finger gently rubbed against Evan’s cheek, and Connor said, “You missed a spot.” 

“Thanks,” Evan returned, smiling so hard he thought his face might crack. 

“Besides, really, I think you need the anti-aging lotion more than me,” Connor went on with a teasing smile. “You’ve had worry lines since you were twenty-six.” 

Evan laughed at that. “I’m a very worried person.”

“I fucking know,” Connor said, his tone suddenly more serious. He grasped Evan’s hand. “I… I wish I could just like. Take that away? Sometimes? Just… it’s not fair that you have a part of you that makes you feel that way.”

Evan’s heart swelled at the words. He leaned in and kissed Connor softly. “You have no idea how much less of a worrier I am with you around,” Evan told him. “You… you make so much of that shit easier, okay? You just… you make everything in my life so much better.” 

“I love you,” Connor said. 

“I love you so much,” Evan returned. 

On their way out of the park, Connor insisted that they stop and take a photo. “I want to remember this,” He said, and Evan dutifully pulled out his phone. They snapped a few selfies, joking around and struggling a little with angles so that both of their faces were properly in the frame, and in the last one Connor turned his head and kissed Evan’s cheek just as his phone captured the image. 

“I kind of love this one?” Evan said, showing it to Connor. 

“Me too,” Connor said. “That shit should be online. Gross people out with how cute we are.”

Evan looked at him questioningly. “You sure?” He said. “We’ve only… It’s only been, like, three weeks? I don’t… I mean… You don’t even like social media-”

Connor took Evan’s hand and looked at him, his expression serious. “I love you,” Connor said, his voice firm and unwavering. “I loved you before and I love you now and… I know that us being back together is still, like, new, but. I’m not really interested in, like, pretending I don’t feel the way I feel about you. Okay?”

Evan felt like he might cry, like Connor had handed him something so precious and special but also tenuous and fragile and he was terrified he might break it or not handle it with the appropriate level of care, but also he wanted it, he wanted all of it, so much. “Okay,” He said, squeezing Connor’s hand. “I am… so in love with you. And I just want you. I’m… I’m all in here? I just don’t. I don’t want you to feel like I’m pushing you or pressuring you or anything.”

“I don’t,” Connor said. “At all. I love you.”

Evan posted the selfie on Instagram. Captioned it “Happy Half-Birthday!”

Literally a second later, Evan’s sister Amy had commented with, like, twenty five heart emojis. All in rainbow order. 

“She has an Instagram?” Connor asked, amused. “She’s like… nine.”

Evan shrugged. “I’m not her parent, not my call.” He looked at Connor then. “She and I email like two or three times a week. She’d been harassing me all through July to ‘get over myself’ and tell you I loved you.” 

“Glad you listened to the nine year old,” Connor said. “I love you.”

* * *

The train ride to Coney Island wasn’t short but Connor didn’t seem to mind all that much. He held tight to Evan’s hand the whole time, smiling and talking and not even getting annoyed when Evan told him stupid facts about how it was actually a peninsula these days. 

Connor never seemed bothered by Evan’s useless facts. In fact, if Evan’s brain could calm the fuck down, Evan might have even thought Connor  _ liked  _ them. Found it endearing or something. 

Evan didn’t know. 

But he was happy Connor continued to indulge his weirdness. 

When they emerged from the subway and made their way to the park, Connor looked at Evan with this huge cheesy grin. “This is some real romantic comedy shit, you know that right?”

Evan laughed. “Oh I know. I’m gonna make a big show of winning you a stuffed animal and everything.”

Connor laughed softly and kissed Evan’s cheek. 

“I love you,” Evan said. Less goofy now. More serious. Because it was the damn truth and he didn’t want Connor to think for even a minute that it wasn’t ever again. 

Connor smiled bigger. It made his eyes crinkle just a little. “I love you too.”

They strolled the park for a while. Strolled. Like old people. Maybe they  _ were  _ old. Considering how many times they’d died, you could argue they’d lived several lifetimes. 

Connor insisted that they weren’t coming to Coney Island without riding at least one ride where they risked their lives. Not to be one upped, Evan insisted that they buy an unlimited ride wristband each and they laughed their asses off in line for the roller coaster, surrounded by day camp kids and long suffering tourists. 

Connor was an absolute terror on the Cyclone, insisting they take the front car and leaning over and shouting “almost at the top” at Evan when he realized Evan had his eyes closed. Evan snapped his eyes open only to take in a sign at the top of the hill that read, “Remain Seated” and he turned to Connor and said, “Is that really necessary?”

And then they plunged down the hill and Evan couldn’t stop himself from laughing, maybe a little hysterical, when they  _ didn’t  _ die. Connor threw his arm around Evan’s shoulders as they made the concerningly tight turns. 

But it was honestly  _ fun.  _ Evan tried to remember how to have fun. He felt a little as if he’d forgotten. 

They naturally raced to get in line for another thrill ride. Another after that. The last one they lined up for was called the Thunderbolt and it had a 90 degree incline and then a 90 degree drop and Evan was glad he was already pretty sure he was actually insane because it made climbing into the seat feel less stupid. 

Evan gripped the handles tightly and Connor laughed at him and grabbed his hand. Pressed a kiss to his knuckles. Evan beamed at him, his heart thumping so hard in his chest which was stupid because Connor was  _ just  _ holding his hand and they’d literally had sex  _ twice  _ today already but it just gave Evan butterflies whenever Connor looked at him so softly. He was  _ so gone  _ for him. 

The ride took off. 

“Fuck,” Evan whispered as they began the steep climb. 

Connor squeezed his hand tighter. Rubbed his thumb across Evan’s thumb. 

And then they were rocketing down, basically flying, the ground horrifyingly right in front of his eyes and Evan didn’t  _ like  _ roller coasters but he was here and riding rides with Connor because he loved him and wanted to participate in some relatively safe recklessness. 

They were both hoarse from laughing and screaming after the rides. They decided it was an absolute necessity to get ice cream because it was a scorching hot day, and Evan basically melted faster than his cone when Connor handed him a Lactaid. 

Fuck. Evan just. Love him so much. So fucking much. 

They strolled some more, hand in hand, looking out at the ocean while they ate their ice cream. 

“You didn’t have to do this, you know,” Connor said after a while. 

Evan turned to look at him. “I wanted to,” He said softly. “I… I know I’m never going to actually be able to make up for ruining your birthday… twice.” He flinched at the words. “I know that. And it breaks my heart that your birthday is, like, the anniversary of some of the most fucked up shit to ever happen to you. I just… You deserve a good day. A dorky, cheesy, rom-com level good day…”

Connor smiled at him, then pulled him in for a soft kiss. His lips were still cold from the ice cream. He tasted sweet. He fit perfectly against Evan. 

“I just… I love you okay?” Evan said. “I love you so damn much and I… I wanted to make sure you knew just how much I appreciate you. Everything you’ve done for me. Everything you’ve given up for me… I just love you.”

Connor kissed him again. They ditched their napkins from the ice cream and decided to go and play a few of the games. Connor kicked Evan’s ass at Whack-A-Mole, and Evan dominated at skeeball. They both tried their hands at Pyramid Smash, the game where you knock over a pyramid of cans. Connor missed on his second throw, and to both of their great surprise, Evan knocked all six cans down on his first throw. 

“What?” Evan sputtered when he was told he was allowed to pick a stuffed animal from the prizes hanging above the game. He had never won anything like this before. Connor kept laughing and Evan rolled his eyes and said that  _ he  _ had to pick the prize. 

Naturally, Connor picked a giant stuffed Bulbasaur and the two of them laughed gleefully about how the fuck they were going to get that thing on the subway home. 

“I guess we could just take a Lyft,” Connor mused. “Kind of expensive to take all the way from Brooklyn though.”

Evan rolled his eyes. “It’s so hot when you forget you’re a multimillionaire.” 

“Fuck off,” Connor joked. 

Evan was keeping an eye on the clock. They needed to be back at the bookstore in an hour and a half. A Lyft would probably take most of that time, he mused, pulling out his phone. 

“What are you doing?” Connor demanded. 

“Calling a Lyft?”

“You  _ just  _ reminded me that I’m a fucking millionaire. I’m paying for the Lyft.”

“But it’s your half birthday!” Evan protested. 

As they made their way toward the rideshare zone, Evan and Connor observed a little girl laughing and pointing at the giant, silly Bulbasaur. 

“Sorry,” her dad said. “She loves Pokemon. Come on, sweetheart, we need to get going home.”

“Wait,” Connor said suddenly. “Why don’t you take this?” He held out the stuffed Pokemon. 

The dad looked surprised. “No, we couldn’t -”

“Seriously, take it! She should have it.”

The little girl looked up at her dad, eyes big. “Alright,” He relented, and Connor handed the Bulbasaur over to her. 

“THANK YOU MISTER!” She shouted, hurrying off with the giant Pokemon to show her mom. 

Evan looked at Connor and his heart almost just. Burst everywhere. It was just… Such a fucking Connor thing to do. 

“What? I don’t need a Bulbasaur. And if I decide I want one, I’ll just buy it -”

Evan kissed him hard on the mouth, kissed him like he meant it, because he did, he meant it so much because he just fucking loved this man more than he ever thought was humanly possible. “I love you,” He said, holding onto Connor tightly. “I love you so much I love you I love you I love you -”

Connor smiled at him, kissing him back. “You are such a dork, oh my god.”

“I fucking love you.”

* * *

The Lyft driver seems a little surprised when he picks them up, and more than a little gobsmacked at the estimated fare and distance, but he greets them with a big smile. “Looks like we will ride together for some time,” he says, in an accent Connor can’t quite place. “You would like to pick music?” 

It’s over an hour long trip, so Connor agrees. He ends up plugging in his phone and putting on a playlist of stuff he likes to listen to when he’s in a good mood, or when he’s in a bad one and doesn’t feel like wallowing in it. 

Sometimes it helps to wallow. He did a hell of a lot of it after Evan left last year. He remembers spending hours just lying on the sofa in his living room with the curtains drawn and the lights off, listening to melancholy music on the completely ridiculous sound system his sister had sneakily had installed while he was recovering back home. Zoe has bought him this whole entertainment system, complete with surround sound and an ostentatiously large flatscreen TV, reasoning that he was still recovering and needed something to help him relax and unwind. 

Distractionary tactics, Connor knows. 

Something intended to help take his mind off… everything. 

Zoe wasn’t exactly thrilled the one time she showed up at Connor’s place to find him lying on the sofa in the dark listening to Phoebe Bridgers, staring at the ceiling and trying not to cry. “This is so not the point of this sound system,” she’d said, opening the curtains and turning on the lights and turning off the stereo. “You’re just making yourself feel worse.”

Connor disagreed then and he still disagrees now. Sometimes it helps if you just… let yourself feel it for a while. 

But this isn’t last year, he reminds himself. The months he spent without Evan, devastated and worried, are over. And Evan’s here, with him in this Lyft, and it requires a whole other playlist. 

The Lyft driver seems to approve of Connor’s taste in music, at least. He sings along tunelessly to Janelle Monae and Robyn and Queen and David Bowie, which seems to entertain Evan. He keeps looking at Connor and smiling really big, this bright smile that makes the sun look dull, and Connor loves him so much. 

He just loves him. 

He still can’t really believe that this is happening. That they’ve just spent the day together because it’s Connor’s half-birthday and Evan wants to do something nice for him. It seems unbelievable sometimes, like a whole different universe. 

Connor dreamed about different universes when he and Evan were broken up. Dreamed about them all the time. Dreamed about he and Evan being together and happy, like they are now. And sometimes that freaks him out. 

What if he’s in the wrong universe?

What if he’s slipped over somehow? It’s happened before, what’s to say it hasn’t happened again?

And if he has… 

Does that matter?

Does he want to go back to a reality where Evan left? Where Evan is sick and suicidal and barely a person anymore? Where Connor feels like he’s had his heart ripped out? 

Connor holds Evan’s hand in a Lyft for an hour and tries not to let these thoughts consume him. Tries not to let them fester, get under his skin, but the longer the drive goes the weirder it feels because today has been perfect and amazing and wonderful and there’s a part of Connor that’s irrationally terrified that the minute they get out of this Lyft, it’s going to snap back to the way it was and he’s going to be alone again. 

Fuck. 

It’s not like he can talk about his paranoia about alternate universes with his therapist. 

With anyone. 

Evan keeps checking his phone and Connor wants to tease him about working too hard, like he used to, but he knows that this new job is completely different from his days in corporate law. There’s this weird buzzing sensation in his brain every time Evan checks his phone. 

What if he’s leaving?

What if he’s done? What if he’s… 

_ Stop it,  _ Connor tells his brain.  _ You’re not fucking helping. _

The Lyft driver pulls up outside The Little Book Nook just as David Bowie lets out the final line of Suffragette City. He grins at them and tells them to have a good night. Connor gives him a ridiculous tip and Evan just grins at him. 

It’s like Evan’s smile releases something in Connor’s chest and the paranoia and fear he’d felt throughout the Lyft ride ebbs away. 

Evan takes his hand and squeezes it. They walk toward the front door and into the bookstore, where Maureen is sweeping up near the travel section. 

“Hey,” she says with a smile. “How was your day?”

“Really great,” Connor says honestly, trying to shake off the weirdness of the ride home. “Evan won me a stuffed Bulbasaur.”

“Which you then gave to a child,” Evan says immediately, rolling his eyes. 

“I was always more of a Charmander kind of guy,” Connor jokes. 

“Squirtle, all the way,” says Maureen immediately. 

Connor looks around. “Where’s Jax? Shouldn’t they be here still?”

Maureen’s eyes go a little wide. “They, uh, had to go get something,” she says immediately. Her cheeks are a bit pink. “It was, uh… unexpected. That… time of the month thing.”

Connor nods, a little sad that Maureen’s so obviously uncomfortable about it all. “There are pads in the stockroom,” he reminds her gently. “It’s not like folks with uteruses decide to bleed or whatever. You can let them know for next time.”

Maureen nods, her face still pink. 

Evan tugs on Connor’s arm. “Let’s go upstairs,” he says, and there’s something anticipatory in his voice and Connor feels a rush of heat go through him because he’s got a feeling that he’s absolutely getting laid again. Evan leads him up the stairs and Connor’s debating just getting on his knees and blowing Evan the minute they get into the apartment. He kisses Evan firmly, then reaches for his keys and fumbles with the lock. Connor’s pushing Evan through the now-open door and is about to reach to take off his shirt when he hears a sudden noise.

“Surprise!”

Connor turns in shock to see his kitchen full of people. There’s Leslie and Camille, Zoe, Mariah, Andre and Andi, all standing there with these huge smiles on their faces and cans of silly string which quickly end up all over Connor and Evan.

“Happy half birthday!” Andi says brightly, pulling Connor into a hug. It’s tight and bone-crushing like always. She kisses his cheek, then pulls away and looks over at Evan, who is grinning widely. “Evan decided you needed a real celebration.”

Connor feels his heart clench. He looks at Evan. “You did this?”

“I helped,” Evan says, his cheeks going pink. 

“Maureen and Jax are setting up the food downstairs,” Leslie says happily. “But we wanted a proper element of surprise, so… surprise!”

It’s taking a while for Connor’s brain to catch up with what’s happening. “Wait, seriously?”

“Yeah dude,” says Andre, clapping a hand on Connor’s shoulder. “Come on, let’s get downstairs. Your staff fridge is full of beer that isn’t going to drink itself.”

The whole group head down to the shop floor, where Maureen, Jax and Otis have made quick work of setting up a party. It’s genuinely impressive how they’ve fast managed to get things organized - they’ve moved some of the shelves, there are tables set up full of food and the sound system is playing more David Bowie, which makes Connor smile. 

Almost immediately, he feels his eyes start to sting. Evan’s still holding his hand and he squeezes it tightly, then leans his head on Connor’s shoulder. 

“I can’t believe you did this,” Connor tells him, his voice shaking a little. “Holy shit.”

“The bookstore kids did most of the work,” Evan says, but Andi is at their side, shaking her head. 

“Bullshit,” she says cheerfully. “Evan did all the groundwork. It was all his idea, all of his hard work.” She grins. “He even made a spreadsheet.”

“Oh my god.”

“I liked the spreadsheet,” offers Jax, something a little sheepish in their voice. “It made it nice and easy to figure everything out.”

“And it was color-coded,” Maureen chimes in. 

Connor wipes his face in what he hopes is a subtle enough way to not make it super obvious that he’s having a damn emotion about all of this.

Fuck.

Just… fuck. 

This is overwhelming and wonderful and completely crazy, and he’s surrounded by people he loves and there’s food and booze and music and the sunshine spot is lit up with late afternoon sun in a way that makes it almost glow and this…

Is real, he realizes.

It’s one hundred percent, absolutely, genuinely really happening. 

Connor pulls Evan into a tight hug and doesn’t let go for a long time. Just holds onto him, breathing it all in - the way he smells a little different since he’s quit smoking, the way he’s still thinner than he was but he’s still solid and warm. 

The way the traces of what came before are there, the evidence of everything they went through is right there for Connor to see. So he knows he’s where he should be. 

So he knows he’s home.

* * *

The party was well underway, and Evan started to relax a little bit. Everyone he had invited had shown up. There was plenty of food and booze and someone had put on some music. It was going well. 

And Connor seemed happy. He seemed genuinely happy. 

But Evan had one last thing he needed to do before he could afford to relax a little. He looked at Leslie to turn down the music, and she did immediately. Evan had spotted Alana Beck outside of the store, about to make her way in. 

“There’s uh… one last thing I wanted to do before we partied the rest of the night away,” Evan said to Connor softly. Connor looked confused. Even more so when Evan headed to the shop door and let Alana Beck inside. 

Connor looked very lost by the appearance of Alana. Evan cleared his throat and introduced her to the crowd, explaining that Alana Beck was on the city council. 

“Thank you for the introduction,” Alana said swiftly and efficiently. “When I first began to campaign to be a city councilmember, one of my initiatives was to make sure that the history of queer and trans people in this city were being formally recognized as historical landmarks. I’ve partnered with a number of community organizations, and we are proud to announce that today, August 26th, 2022, we are designating The Little Book Nook an official LGBT Historic Landmark.”

Connor looked at Evan, his face bright and smiling but also bewildered. “Are you serious?”

Alana nodded. “Yes… Evan said he was the attorney for the bookstore so I assumed it was alright-”

“He is. It is. Oh my god,” Connor said, grabbing Evan tightly and kissing him. “You… you made my bookstore a historic landmark.”

Evan nodded, a little embarrassed. “I know how important this store is to you and… I wanted to make sure that no matter what, the legacy of The Little Book Nook won’t go anywhere.”

Connor looked at Evan like he didn’t quite know what to make of him. Evan could see that his eyes were brimming with unshed tears. He grabbed Evan tightly again and kissed him full on the mouth in front of everyone. When they broke apart, Evan gently wiped a few of Connor’s tears away. “Was that… this is okay? Right?”

Connor nodded hard and kissed Evan again, his cheeks damp and his eyelashes wet and Evan held on to him tightly, not caring that people were watching. He just wrapped Connor tight in his arms and let him cry a bit, softly repeating that he loved him over and over. Until Connor took a deep, shuddering breath and laughed a little. 

“I love you,” Evan said. “And I just… wanted to make sure you had a really good day. I owed you a really good day.”

Connor laughed a little wetly and smiled hard. 

“You okay?” Evan asked, a little sheepish. “I didn’t mean to, like, totally ambush you.”

Connor smiled even wider. So wide that Evan thought his face must hurt. “I love you. Thank you.” 

They stayed in their own little world for a few minutes longer, smiling stupidly at one another while conversations happened around them. Evan leaned in and kissed Connor softly one more, then took his hand and squeezed it. “I love you, I love you, I love you.”

“I love you too,” Connor said with a grin. 

“Okay, enough of the lovefest,” Andre said with a laugh. “This man needs a drink!” He looped an arm around Connor’s shoulders and led him toward the staff room to grab him a beer. Evan looked over to see Andi having pulled Alana into a conversation where she was leaning in very close to her. 

Evan cleared his throat, a little awkwardly, and Andi immediately wrapped her arms around him in a bone crushing hug. “Hey babe,” She said. “I think your gift was a hit.”

“Thanks,” Evan said to Andi, kissing her cheek. “I appreciate all of the help. Really. Both of you.” He looked at Alana. “I think he’s happy? I think I… that I did okay.”

Andi laughed softly. “He’s over the moon,” She said with a fond smile. 

Evan felt his face color a bit. Connor had returned with a beer in hand, and he immediately took hold of Evan’s hand. “Hey.”

“Hey,” Evan said back. “You doing okay?”

Connor nodded, but he still seemed super overwhelmed. He was holding tight to Evan’s hand and Evan, thinking quickly, gently pulled Connor away to look at the sunshine spot under the guise of figuring out where they wanted to hang up the historical marker certificate. 

“I’m sorry,” Evan said gently. “This was… this was too much, obviously, and I shouldn’t have -”

“No,” Connor said immediately, shutting Evan up with a kiss. “No. I just… Is this real?”

Evan blinked a few times. “Yeah. I’m… I’m pretty sure.”

Connor nodded and swallowed. “It’s just… how do I know?”

Evan took in a sharp breath. He wrapped his arms around Connor tightly and kissed the side of his head. “I love you. I love you so much. And I know it’s real because… you have a tattoo of a feather,” Evan said softly, gently tucking his hair behind his ear and tracing it. 

Connor nodded. 

“And I... “ Evan said, trailing off to roll his sleeve up slightly. He pressed the tips of Connor’s fingers to the scars on the inside of his wrist. “Have scars.”

Connor’s eyes looked sad, but he kissed Evan fiercely and nodded. “I love you, okay?”

“I love you too.”

“And this is real?”

Evan nodded. “It’s real. I swear.”

Connor hugged him tightly and kissed his cheek. “Thank you, thank you, this…. This is so… wonderful.”

Evan shrugged, a little embarrassed. “I just… I love you and. I wanted to make sure you had a good day. Since I… kind of fucked up your birthday.”

“You didn’t do it on purpose…” Connor practically whispered. 

“I know but I… you deserved a proper celebration. You deserve… everything. And I know that I’ve fucked it all up but… I love you and. I wanted to at least try to do something special?”

Connor smiled at him. Kissed his cheek softly. 

“Did I do okay?”

Connor smiled brightly. “More than okay,” he said. And it filled Evan with so much warmth and love that he didn’t know where to put it all. “I love you.”

The party kept going. Jax and Maureen put on some music that Connor liked and before long, Andi was dancing with them. Mariah and Andre were talking to Zoe and Connor about something, and Evan found himself talking to Alana, thanking her again for her help. 

Alana smiled. “I was glad to help. It’s important to recognize our history.”

Evan couldn’t deny that. 

Alana drifted off to get herself something to drink. Evan thought maybe he should get something too, see if he could find some water but he stopped in his tracks when he realized Zoe was coming toward him. 

Evan stopped. Waited. 

He anticipated being shouted at. 

Zoe was clearly a bit drunk. Her face was flushed and her stride wasn’t as decisive as Evan knew it to be when she was sober. He thought about that night in May when he’d run into her at the bodega, the night he promised not to tell Connor about and still hadn’t, when Zoe gloated about Nate and Evan walked her home. 

She walked up to him. 

“This is nice,” she said tersely. 

Evan tried to smile. “I barely did anything, it was all Andi and the bookstore kids.”

Zoe crossed her arms. “I don’t like you,” she said. 

Evan felt himself deflate a bit. “I know.”

“And I still don’t like that you’re with my brother.”

Evan sighed. “I know.”

“You two are like… fucking magnets,” she said, shaking her head.

Evan didn’t follow.

“Always stuck together. Whether you want to be or not,” Zoe muttered. “It’s like. You can’t pull away from each other.”

Evan frowned a bit. “Sometimes magnets repel each other,” he said gently. 

“Oh I know,” she said, irritated. “What do you call last year, huh? It was like you… reversed polarity or something.”

Evan nodded. That seemed about right. “I’m sorry. I’m trying to do better this time. Not fuck it up.”

Zoe shook her head some more. “Doesn’t matter. Not like he’ll listen to reason anyway,” she took a sip of her drink. “He thinks you’re like. Meant to be or some shit.”

Evan felt his heart leap. He looked over at Connor, still talking with Mariah and Andre, smiling and happy. He caught Evan’s eye after a moment. Smiled at him in a way that made Evan’s heart jump again. He smiled back at Connor. He loved him so much. 

Connor turned back to his conversation. Evan turned back to Zoe. 

“See? What did I say? Fucking magnets.”

Evan shrugged. 

“Maybe you idiots  _ are  _ meant to be,” she said, sounding irritated. She said it dismissively, like it was ridiculous and stupid but. 

Evan hoped she was right. 

He thought maybe he was. 

Zoe excused herself to go and talk to Leslie and Camille. Evan walked immediately to Connor. Took his hand. He didn’t even need to say a word. Connor took his hand and squeezed it tightly. 

And Evan was home. 

Where he was meant to be. 

**Author's Note:**

> Title from "World Spins Madly On" by The Weepies.


End file.
